Sail Ho! Part 55

"Brute! Beast! I only wish--"

He stopped short as he vigorously wrenched himself round.

"I thought you were gone," he said blankly. "He told you to come away."

"I stopped to help you," I said. "I did not like to have you left when you were so bad."

"No, you didn't," he cried, with a vicious snarl. "You stopped to play the miserable, contemptible, cowardly spy. It's just like you, Dale.

You always were a beast!"

"If you call me a beast, I'll knock your head off!" I cried, for my temper was rising against him and against myself, for I felt that I had been imposed upon, and horribly weak and stupid in my sympathy for one who was shamming from beginning to end.

"It would take a better man than you," he snarled.

"Not it, though you are bigger and stronger," I cried. "Get up, and I'll show you."

"Get up," he groaned, "while I'm so weak and bad that I can't stir?"

"Can't stir," I said, as I realised how thoroughly the doctor had read him, and I understood now why Mr Frewen was so indifferent instead of being sympathetic. "Why, there's nothing the matter with you at all.

You can move as well as I can. Get up, sneak!"

"Oh!" he groaned, "you're as great a brute as the doctor," and he turned up his eyes till only the whites showed, making him look so ghastly in the dim light, that I was ready to fancy I was misjudging him after all.

But I recalled his manner and his utterance as soon as he had made sure that the doctor had gone, and thought himself quite alone.

"Get up," I said again, "and leave off this miserable shamming. There's nothing the matter with you at all."

He groaned again, and it made me feel so angry at the thought of his believing that he could impose upon me again, that I raised my right foot, whose toes seemed to itch with a desire to kick him.

"Get up!" I cried angrily again.

"I can't, I can't!" he groaned.

"Get up," I said, "or I'll lie down by you and punch your head that way!"

"Oh, you coward, you coward!" he moaned.

"No, it's you who are the coward, shamming being injured. Will you get up?"

"What," he snarled, changing his manner again, "to fight with a miserable coward who is armed?"

"I'm not armed now," I cried, s.n.a.t.c.hing the revolver I carried from my belt, and laying it on Mr Preddle's chest. "Get up, you miserable, cowardly, treacherous, shamming impostor! I'll give you some physic which will do you more good than the doctor's."

As I spoke, I gave him a heavy push with my foot.

He sprang from the bunk as if he had been suddenly galvanised, made a rush at me, and struck out with all his force, but I darted on one side, and he struck the bulk-head with his fist.

"Poor fellow, how weak he is!" I said, as I stood on my guard, and writhing now with bodily as well as mental pain, he came at me looking almost diabolical.

I forgot everything the next moment--the nearness of the dangerously wounded captain, and the alarm that would be felt by Miss Denning, and with fists feeling like solid bone I sprang at him in turn. For I was in a strange state of exaltation. My nerves had been stirred by the excitement of the past days. I had been horribly imposed upon, and in place of my pity I now felt something very near akin to hate for my treacherous messmate, whom I had been ready, to forgive everything. I felt as if the most delightful thing in life would be to thrash him till he was in such a condition that he would be obliged to have the doctor to see to him and put him right--if he did not half-kill me instead, for he looked capable of doing it then. But this last did not occur to me, as I made my fists fly at his head, no round-about windmill blows, but straight-out shots right at his face, chest, anywhere I could see a chance to hit, though in the majority of cases I missed him, and received his blows instead.

But these did not seem to hurt, only excite me, and give me strength.

They were like spurring to a horse; and as I hit out, my tongue was not idle, for I kept on taunting and gibing at him, asking if that one did not make him groan and this one did not need the doctor, while all the time he was perfectly silent, save that as he glared at me and fought savagely I could hear his teeth grinding together. He fought savagely, and so did I, for to use an old school-boy term, my monkey was up, and I was ready to keep on till I dropped.

Blows fell fast enough on both, and then we closed and wrestled and went down.

Then we were up, and crashing against the bulk-head on one side, then on the other. Then I sent him staggering against the door; and _en revanche_, as he recovered himself and came on again, he sent me heavily against the ship's side, where the back of my head gave a sounding rap close to the little circular window.

Of course it was a matter of a very few minutes. Boy human nature could not stand a prolongation of such a fierce struggle, even if our muscles were tense as so much elastic wood. And how that time pa.s.sed I can hardly tell. I was conscious of seeing sparks, and then of Walters'

eyes and gleaming teeth which were very hard to my knuckles. So was his head, and the boards, and cabin-floor; but I fought on, and wrestled and went down, and got up again, and the fighting was soon in perfect silence as far as our lips were concerned, till after one desperate round--the last--I struck out so fiercely with my left, adding to it the whole weight of my body, that Walters fell back over the chest in one corner, his head struck the bulk-head with a sounding bang, and he went down in a sitting position, but in an instant sprang up again, grinding his teeth.

The cabin was nearly dark now and my fists were up for the renewal of the contest, for Walters seemed to be about to spring at me; but he drew back, and as quickly as I could grasp what it meant, I heard almost simultaneously the clicking of my pistol-lock, the report, and the crash caused by the sudden wrenching open of the cabin-door.

"Hurt?" cried Mr Brymer, as I staggered back, conscious of a sharp stinging pain at the side of my head; and as he spoke he sprang at Walters, wrested the pistol from him, and threw him down.

"I--I don't know," I stammered as I put my hand to my ear. "Yes, I think so," for my fingers were wet with blood.

"You cowardly, treacherous hound!" cried the mate, with his foot upon Walters' breast.

"I--oh don't!--help!--I was only defending myself from Dale. I'm weak and hurt, and--"

"A cowardly, malingering liar!" cried Mr Frewen, hotly. "He tried to make me believe he was very bad, groaning and wincing, and thinking he had deceived me, but I saw through him all the time."

"No, no, I am bad!" groaned Walters, piteously.

"He isn't," I said, with my anger against him mastering a sensation of sickness. "He was shamming; I found him out, and we quarrelled and fought, and as soon as he was beaten he caught up the pistol and fired at me."

"It's all a lie!" shouted Walters, fiercely. "I was so weak and ill that I--"

"Jumped up well as I was, and called Mr Frewen a brute and a beast as soon as he was out of hearing."

"And the pistol c.o.c.ked itself, jumped up into his hand, and then went off and wounded Dale. Is it much, doctor?" said Mr Brymer.

"No, only his ear cut, fortunately," said Mr Frewen, holding a handkerchief to my head. "An inch more and our amiable, treacherous young friend would have had to be tried for murder. Who's that?"

"Me," growled Neb Dumlow. "Want help, sir?"

"No. Go and tell the captain there's nothing the matter, and Miss Denning that there's no cause for alarm. Lock up the wild beast, Brymer! I thought he was a little weak and wanted feeding up. Leave him to me, and I'll feed him down."

Mr Brymer gave a sharp look round, and then closed the door and locked it, while following Mr Frewen into the next cabin, he put a few st.i.tches in my injured ear and then strapped it up.

"Feel sick?" he said.

"Pretty well," I said, and I looked dismally at my knuckles.

"Like a light, and a gla.s.s to see your face?"

"Eh? No," I cried, as I recalled all that had taken place. "Does it look very bad?"