"Let go, villain!" cried the man, striving to free himself.
Desmond clung on; there was a brief struggle, but he was no match in size
or strength for his opponent, who was thick-set and of considerable
girth. He fell backwards, overborne by the man's weight. His head struck
on the road; dazed by the blow he loosened his clutch, and lay for a
moment in semi-consciousness while the man sprang away.
But he was not so far gone as not to hear a loud shout behind him and
near at hand, followed by the tramp of feet.
"Avast there!" The voice was familiar: surely it was Bulger's. "Fair
play! Fourteen stone against seven en't odds. Show a leg, mateys."
The big sailor with a dozen of his mates stood full in the path of the
irate gentleman, who, seeing himself beset, drew his rapier and prepared
to fight his way through. A moment later he was joined by his companion,
who had also drawn his rapier. Together the gentlemen stood facing the
sailors.
"This is check, Merriman," said the last comer, as the seamen,
flourishing their hangers menacingly, pressed forward past the prostrate
body of Desmond. "The fellow has escaped you; best withdraw at
discretion."
"Come on," shouted Bulger, waving his hook. "Bill Bulger en't the man to
sheer off from a couple of landlubbers."
As with his mates in line he steadily advanced, the two gentlemen, their
lips set, their eyes fixed on the assailants, their rapiers pointed,
backed slowly up the street.
Pages:
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92