Nicky, rushing past Tew, who was steering the craft, its momentum increasing with every turn of the propeller, tried to trip Don Ortiga, but the other man leaped aside, thrust at him with a foot, and at that instant Senor Ortiga caught the wrist of his hand holding the knife and a battle ensued that made Nicky gasp.
Amid the shouts and the shots from the cutter, amid the cries of men being caught or being fired at in the water, with the craft making steady way under Tew’s guidance, those two brothers strove and strained, fighting wordlessly for the possession of that knife.
Nicky was held spellbound for an instant.
Then, with a cruel trick, Don Ortiga lifted a knee and caught the brother he hated in a vital spot and Senor Ortiga, with a groan, relaxed his hold on the knife.
Don Ortiga stepped back, his face a mask of hate and fury.
His brother began to recover, for the blow had not been delivered with enough force to be permanently damaging.
“And now, as I said, we settle old scores!” hissed Don Ortiga.
With a hand that shook he extracted a cigarette from a case in his pocket, staring in meditation on his evil plan while his brother, groaning and white, gained his balance.
Don Ortiga scraped a match roughly against its box, lit his cigarette and then, flicking his match carelessly, loosed it.
Nicky cried out shrilly.