The Ocean Waifs Part 36

"Liar!" vociferated the Frenchman, with a menacing gesture. "Liar!"

"Kape cool, Frenchy. It isn't Larry the Galwayman that's goin' to be scared at yer bl.u.s.ther. I repate,--it was you yourself that putt that b.u.t.ton into the bag."

"How do you know that, O'Gorman?" "Can you prove it?"

"What proof have you?" were questions that were asked simultaneously by several voices,--among which that of the Frenchman's confederate was conspicuous.

"Phwy, phwat more proof do yez want, than phwat's alriddy before yez?

When I had me hand in the wallet, there wasn't only the two b.u.t.tons,-- the divil a more. I feeled thim both while I was gropin' about to make choice betwixt them; an if there had been a third, I wud a feeled that too. I can swear by the holy cross of Saint Pathrick there wasn't wan more than the two."

"That's no proof there wasn't three," urged the friend of Le Gros. "The third might have been in a wrinkle of the bag, without your feeling it!"

"The divil a wrinkle it was in, except the wrinkles in the palm of that spalpeen's fist! That's where it was; and I can tell yez all who putt it there. It was this very chap who is so pit-a-pat at explainin' it.

Yez needn't deny it, Bill Bowler. I saw somethin' pa.s.sin' betwixt yerself and Frenchy,--jest before it come his turn to dhraw. I saw yer flippers touchin' van another, an' somethin' slippin' in betwane them.

I couldn't tell phwat it was, but, by Jaysus! I thought it quare for all that. I know now phwhat it was,--it was the b.u.t.ton."

The Irishman's arguments merited attention; and received it. The circ.u.mstances looked at the least suspicious against Le Gros. To the majority they were conclusive of his guilt.

The accusation was supported by other evidence. The man who had preceded O'Gorman in the drawing positively avowed that he could feel only three b.u.t.tons in the bag; while the one before him, with equal confidence, a.s.serted that when _he_ drew, there were but four. Both declared that they could not be mistaken as to the numbers. They had separately "fingered" each b.u.t.ton in the hope of being able to detect that which was bloodstained, and so avoid bringing it forth.

"Ach!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Irishman, becoming impatient for the conviction of his guilty antagonist; "phwat's the use ov talkin'. Frenchy's the wan that did it. That gropin' an fumblin' about the bottom of the wallet was all pretince. He had the b.u.t.ton in his shut fist all the time, an'

by Jaysus! he's ent.i.tled to the prize, the same as if he had dhrawn it.

It's him that's got to die!"

"_Canaille_! liar!" shouted Le Gros; "if I have, you--"

And as the words issued from his lips he sprang forward, knife in hand, with the evident design of taking the life of his accuser.

"Kape cool!" cried the latter, springing out of reach of his a.s.sailant; and with his own blade bared, placing himself on the defensive. "Kape cool, ye frog-atin' son av a gun, or ye'll make mate for us sooner than ye expected, ay, before yez have time to put up a _pater_ for yer ugly sowl, that stans most disperately in nade ov it.

"Now," continued the Irishman, after he had fairly placed himself in an att.i.tude of defence; "come an whiniver yer loike. Larry O'Gorman is riddy for ye, an' another av the same at yer dhirty back.

_Hoch_,--_faugh-a-ballah_,--_hiloo_,--_whallabaloo_!"

CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO.

A DUEL TO THE DEATH.

The strange ceremonial upon the raft,--hitherto carried on with some show of solemnity,--had reached an unexpected crisis.

A second appeal to the G.o.ddess of Fortune was no longer thought of. The deadly antagonism of the two chief castaways--Le Gros and O'Gorman-- promised a result likely to supply the larder of that cannibal crew, without the necessity of their having recourse to her decrees.

One or other,--perhaps both,--of these men must soon cease to live; for the determined att.i.tude of each told, beyond mistaking, that his bared blade would not be again sheathed, except in the flesh of his adversary.

There was no attempt at intervention. Not one of their comrades interposed to keep them apart. There was friendly feeling,--or, to use a more appropriate phrase, partisanship,--on the side of each; but it was of that character which usually exists among the brutal backers of two "champions of the ring."

Under other circ.u.mstances, each party might have regretted the defeat of the champion they had adopted; but upon that raft, the death of one or other of the combatants was not only desirable; but, rather than it should not occur, either side would have most gladly a.s.sented to see its especial favourite the victim.

Every man of that ruffian crew had a selfish interest in the result of the threatened conflict; and this far outweighed any feeling of partisanship with which he might have been inspired. A few may have felt friendlier than others towards their respective champions; but to the majority it mattered little which of the two men should die; and there were even some who, in the secret chambers of their hearts, would have reflected gleefully to behold both become victims of their reciprocal hostility. Such a result would cause a still further postponement of that unpopular lottery,--in which they had been too often compelled to take shares.

There was no very great difference in the number of the "friends" on either side. The partisans of the Frenchman would have far outnumbered those of his Irish adversary, but ten minutes before. But the behaviour of Le Gros in the lottery had lost him many adherents. That he had played the trick imputed to him was by most believed; and as the result of his unmanly subterfuge was of personal interest to all, there were many, hitherto indifferent, now inspired with hostility towards him.

Apart from personal considerations,--even amongst that conglomeration of outcasts,--there were some in whom the instinct of "fair-play" was not altogether dead; and the foul play of the Frenchman had freshly aroused this instinct within them.

As soon as the combatants had shown a fixed determination to engage in deadly strife, the crowd upon the raft became separated, as if by mechanical action, into two groups,--one forming in the rear of Le Gros, the other taking stand behind the Irishman.

As already stated, there was no great inequality between them in point of numbers; and as each occupied an end of the raft, the balance was preserved, and the stage upon which the death drama was about to be enacted--set horizontally--offered no advantage to either.

Knives were to be their weapons. There were others on the raft. There were axes, cutla.s.ses, and harpoons; but the use of these was prohibited to either of the intended combatants: as nothing could be fairer than the sailor's knife,--with which each was provided,--and no weapon in close combat could be used with more certain or deadlier effect.

Each armed with his own knife, released from its lanyard fastenings in order to be freely handled,--each with his foot planted in front of him, to guard against the onset of his adversary,--each with an arm upraised, at the end of which appeared six inches of sharp, glittering steel,-- each with muscles braced to their toughest tension, and eyes glaring forth the fires of a mutual hatred,--a hostility to end only in death,-- such became the att.i.tude of the antagonists.

Behind each stood their respective partisans, in a sort of semicircle, of which the champion was in the centre,--all eagerly intent on watching the movements of the two men, one of whom--perhaps both--was about to be hurried into eternity.

It was a setting sun that was to afford light for this fearful conflict.

Already was the golden orb declining low upon the western horizon. His disc was of a lurid red,--a colour appropriate to the spectacle it was to illumine. No wonder that both combatants instinctively turned their eyes towards the west, and gazed upon the G.o.d of day. Both were under the belief they might never more look upon that luminary!

CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE.

HATE AGAINST HATE.

The combatants did not close on the instant. The sharp blades shining in their hands rendered them shy of a too near approach, and for some time they kept apart. They did not, however, remain motionless or inactive. On the contrary, both were on the alert,--moving in short curves from one side to the other, and all the while keeping _vis-a-vis_.

At irregular intervals one of them would make a feint to attack; or by feigning a retreat endeavour to get the other off guard; but, after several such pa.s.ses and counter-pa.s.ses had been delivered between them, still not a scratch had been given,--not a drop of blood drawn.

The spectators looked on with a curious interest. Some showed not the slightest emotion,--as if they cared not who should be the victor, or which the victim. To most it mattered but little if both should fall; and there were even some upon the raft who, for certain secret reasons, would have preferred such a termination to the sanguinary struggle.

A few there were slightly affected with feelings of partisanship. These doubtless felt a deeper interest in the result, at least they were more demonstrative of it; and by words of exhortation and cries of encouragement endeavoured to give support to their respective champions.

There were spectators of a different kind, that appeared to take as much interest in the fearful affair as any of those already described. These were the sharks! Looking at them, as they swam around the raft,--their eyes glaring upon those who occupied it,--one could not have helped thinking that they comprehended what was going on,--that they were conscious of a deed of violence about to be enacted,--and were waiting for some contingency that might turn up in their favour!

Whatever the crisis was to be, neither the spectators _in_ the sea, nor those _upon_ it, would have long to wait for the crisis. Two men, mutually enraged, standing in front of each other, armed with naked knives; each desperately desirous of killing the other,--with no one to keep them apart, but a score of spectators to encourage them in their intent of reciprocal destruction,--were not likely to be long in coming to the end of the affair. It was not a question of swords, where skilful fencing may protract a combat to an indefinite period of time; nor of pistols, where unskilful shooting may equally r.e.t.a.r.d the result.

The combatants knew that, on closing within arms' length, one or other must receive a wound that might in a moment prove mortal.

It was this thought that--for some minutes after their squaring up to each other--had influenced them to keep at a wary distance.

The cries of their companions began to a.s.sume an altered tone. Mingled with shouts of exhortation could be heard taunts and jeers,--several voices proclaiming that the "two bullies were afraid of each other."

"Go in, Le Gros! give him the knife!" cried the partisans of the Frenchman.

"Come, Larry! lay on to him!" shouted the backers of his antagonist.

"Bear a hand, both of you! go it like men!" vociferated the voice of some one, who did not seem particularly affected to the side of either.

These off-hand counsels, spoken in a varied vocabulary of tongues, seemed to produce the desired effect. As the last of them pealed over the heads of the spectators, the combatants rushed towards each other,-- as they closed inflicting a mutual stab. But the blade of each was met by the left arm of his antagonist, thrown out to ward off the strokes and they separated again without either having received further injury than a flesh wound, that in no way disabled them. It appeared, however, to produce an irritation, which rendered both of them less careful of consequences: for in an instant after they closed again,--the spectators accompanying their collision with shouts of encouragement.