He was lifted or pushed up the steps set against the rail and then he stood on the plank’s end.
“Walk!” came the hoarse order from a lean scoundrel.
The German hesitated and the command was followed by a thrust from a boarding cutlass.
Instead of walking to the end, he turned quickly. The convict’s face was within a couple of feet of the plank.
He looked down on the villain coolly while he measured the distance with his eye. Then he kicked out so fully that the convict dropped as if shot. Both of his eyes were ruined and he never could see well enough afterward to get about the deck alone.
Then the sailor walked slowly out over the side, while several convicts aimed their pistols at him. As he reached the farthest end of the plank he started to turn around. Several reports cracked out, and I saw him sway from the bullet-strokes. Then he fell with a splash and was gone.
O’Toole was led up next. His face was hard set and he walked with a firm step. He reached the steps at the rail and a crowd of men started to push him up.
“Bring him aft!” roared Benson, and the men hesitated.
The leader’s hand went to his belt, but he did not repeat the order.
His short henchman, who had stuck to his side, plunged his heavy-set body into the crowd and reached those nearest the second mate. Three more of the leaders then helped clear the way, while Benson stood there with his pistol out. The arms the convict ship had carried to control her cargo were the principal cause of her loss. A revolver, backed by a man like Benson, was an affair of authority that few men would care to dispute.