Suddenly, and without shifting his gaze, he gave a quick, faint little whistle. Billy and I and Wilton leaped on to the cabin top, and at the same instant the launch swerved inwards towards the Seagull like a weasel darting on a rabbit. I heard a cry of dismay and surprise from the man who was steering as he shoved down his helm in a frantic effort to avoid a collision. At the very last moment, just when the crash seemed inevitable, Cumming again swerved, and as he did so we all three made one frantic jump for the Seagull's rails.
I missed with my left hand, and my other arm seemed to be almost wrenched from its socket with the shock. I clung on, though, and the next moment soaked and half blinded with spray, I was scrambling on to the deck. A swift glance round showed me that both Billy and Wilton had been equally successful.
Paralysed, apparently, at the suddenness of our onslaught, the two men who had been coiling the rope made no attempt to stop us until we were fairly on board. Then, as I leaped for the companion-way, they both dashed forward with a volley of questions and oaths. Only one of them reached me in time, and he got a smack in the jaw for his pains that sent him spinning against the rails. At the same moment Billy's voice, backed doubtless by his revolver, rang out in a harsh command, and the other stopped short and flung up his hands.
Without waiting for any further developments, I dropped down the companion, clearing the short ladder with one jump. There was a door in front of me—a white cabin door with brass fittings. I seized the handle and flung it savagely open, just as Wilton's figure appeared in the opening above.
Do you remember that hideous picture of "The Startled Robber" in Hogarth's "Two Apprentices"? It flashed into my mind then as, pale with amazement, terror, and rage, Sangatte started up at my entrance. He had evidently been sitting at the table, smoking and drinking, for there was a bottle of brandy and a half-empty siphon in front of him, and the air was thick with the fumes of his cigar.
The same glance that revealed his glaring, terrified eyes also showed me Mercia. She was on the sofa at the farther end of the cabin, crouching against the wall like some beautiful, desperate animal at bay. At the sight of me her face lit up with a joy too wonderful for words, and she too sprang to her feet, crying out my name.
Then, silent as a wolf, I flung myself on Sangatte.
He seized the bottle of brandy by the neck, and struck at me wildly as I came in. I dashed it aside with my left arm, and the broken glass and liquor showered over us both. The next moment, locked in each other's arms, we swayed clear of the table and crashed heavily against the opposite wall of the cabin.
He was a powerful man, nearly as big as myself, and fighting with the fury of absolute terror; but his strength was as nothing against my own mad rage. Freeing my right arm with a desperate wrench, I drove my fist full in his face, and I felt the bone and cartilage yield under my knuckles as if they had been made of crisp wafer. He clutched me by the throat, but at that smashing blow his grip relaxed, and a horrible stifled cry burst from his lips. With a supreme effort, I lifted him clear off his feet and flung him full length on the cabin floor.
There came a long-drawn, gasping sigh from Mercia.