A moment of silence followed, silence as complete as the darkness of
the night. On the ladder Pierce and I hung as if frozen to the rungs.
The tone of Betty’s call seemed to permeate the air; its pleading,
compelling notes lingered like a perfume. Oh, the power of woman! The
might of so slight a part of her as the nuances of her speech! For the
call of Betty was a command. Nay, it was a force, a law, as
indubitable as the law of gravity. It was surcharged with the thrill
and power of Nature’s will. It was Woman. And Brack would go. He must
go, in response to it. And Betty knew it.
Brack’s laugh, short and excited, sounded aft.
“Ah! Yes, yes; one minute.” His voice was exultant. “I’m coming.”
He must have leaped at the last words, for instantly there was a
clatter as he dropped into the boat. Then the creak of an oar as he
swung the boat clear.
“Where are you, Miss Baldwin?” he laughed.
And then, when it was too late, I recovered from the shock that had
congealed me. I cried out, an involuntary, agonized cry, and as if in
response a man come running swiftly to the ladder and peered over the
rail.
“Who’s dere; who is it? Speak, or I’ll shoot!”
Head and voice I recognized as one of the most vicious of Brack’s men,
and it was too late to attempt to retreat.
“It’s Mr. Pitt,” said I, and climbed upward.
“Hold on; stop right dere.”
I had thrown one leg over the guard rail. The man was a yard away, a
revolver pointed at my chest.
“’S all right, Joe.” From below the quick-witted Freddy sent up a
reassuring growl. “’S all right; let ’im go.”
“Hah?” The seaman, startled, bent forward to look, and I leaped,
sinking both hands into his throat and bearing him to the rail.
In the same second Pierce seemed to be on the rail. His rifle rose
over his head and came down on my man’s arm, knocking the revolver
from his hand.
“The gun—the gun! Get his gat’!” whispered Freddy.
I had it even as he spoke, and with a weapon in each hand I ran aft,
madly, unthinkingly, wishful only to follow whither Captain Brack had
gone. Riordan was the first man I met, and as he retreated at the
sight of me and tugged at his hip pocket, I struck at him, saw him
fall, and went on with scarcely a pause.
I heard Freddy pounding at George’s stateroom, but I ran past. Garvin
leaped at me from aft the main cabin. I fired twice at his right arm
and heard his weapon clatter on the deck.
On the after-deck Barry caught me about the hips and threw me down,
the violence of the fall throwing my weapons from my hands. I was
beneath him and the man was trying to stab me as I hugged him tight to
my breast. I felt the knife enter my thigh. Barry was the stronger,
and I cried out a curse of despair.
“Hang tough for a jiffy, sir,” came Wilson’s calm voice from a
companionway. He, too, was fighting. I heard the sound of two bodies
falling. “Hang tough!”
I put all my strength into a paroxysm of pressure, but Barry managed
to cut me once more ere Wilson, hobbling on one leg, came to my
relief.