A dozen voices arose. "Give the gentleman a show—stand back—give him a chance. Let him fight Hawkins." And a score of men sprang out from among the throng. "Clear the deck!" they shouted. "All come back but Hawkins."
As the cry rose, those who had stood by the carpenter turned, and crept one by one back down to where their fellows stood, until only I and Hawkins faced each other. The fellow was no coward, whatever his faults; he knew that he was nothing like my match with the sword; knew that I would kill him without any mercy like a dog, and yet he stood his ground, his cutlass, which he had drawn, in hand. He would have retreated at that last moment, could he have done so without showing the white feather; but there was no way to do it, and retain the respect and admiration of his fellows, and losing these, his power would be gone. He had advanced too far to back down now, his only safety lay in fighting to the end. There was naught else left.
"I will end thy trouble for thee," he growled, as he made ready.
"Better men than thou have tried and failed," I answered. "The foul creatures of the deep shall feast upon thy body this night," and I moved forward to cross blades.
But as I did so, there was a quick rush of soft feet, a shout from White, and with a groan Hawkins fell, a gleaming hatchet buried in his skull; beside me stood Manteo.
A cry went up from the men, and then died away. White sprang upon the rail.
"I warn all to return to their duty," he shouted. "But fail for an instant to obey me, and I shall turn the culverins upon you. Those who escape them will hang in chains. Disperse instantly, or else a worse thing shall befall you."
An instant the mob wavered; they needed only a man of spirit to lead them upon us, but their leader lay dead, and there was none to take his place.
"Dost hear me?" roared White, "or shall I fire?"
They hesitated for an instant, and then broke and scattered, the sailors to their work, the rest to their tasks, whatever they might be. The mutiny had blown over.