“He fit ’em,” hooted the Captain, prancing deliriously, “he fit ’em all. Glory hallelujah, world without end, amen.” And with a halloo, he subsided, and walked from body to body, bending curiously over each, and dropping cheerful suggestions to the sufferers, as to the sort of medical treatment they would better employ.
“Bagasse,” panted Harrington, grasping the Frenchman’s hand, “I owe you this victory. Your training stood me in good stead with these fellows.”
“Ah, Missr Harrington,” returned Bagasse, tapping him on the chest with the hilt of the sabre, “you do me mush credit. Zat was done vair brown.”
“I’ll bet it was,” corroborated Wentworth. “They’ll remember it to their graves, the cowardly ruffians. Had they knives? They had, eh?” he continued, as Harrington bent his head in assent. “But why didn’t you shoot them?”
“I lost my pistol,” replied Harrington, breathing hard.
“And fought them bare-handed,” said Wentworth. “You infernal dastards,” he roared, turning toward the crawling wretches, “you deserve to be slaughtered, every hound of you. Yes, crawl off, you jackals of slavery. Curse you! I hate you.”
“Richard, Richard,” said Harrington, feebly, “don’t talk so. It’s enough to have half-killed the poor fellows, without abusing them. Heaven knows I wouldn’t have harmed them if it hadn’t been necessary. But let us not stain victory with insulting them in their misery.”
“Insulting them!” snapped Wentworth. “Come, I like that. Insulting kidnappers! By Jove, it’s not possible! Suppose they had killed you. I swear, Harrington, it was the merest chance that we came—though, to be sure, our coming was coming too late. We heard the running and shouting, and didn’t dare to leave the boat till we knew what it meant, and where you were. But if I’d only heard your pistol, I tell you I’d have been on shore, orders or no orders. Then the next thing, we saw you in the flash, with the scoundrels around you, and we put for the spot at once. The infernal ruffians!”
“Come, come,” murmured Harrington, ending this hasty colloquy, which had not occupied more than three or four minutes, “let’s be off. I am breathed a little, and I feel exhausted, and want to lie down.”
“But where’s Antony?” said Wentworth.