Then
grasping me by the throat, he tried to force me over the taffrail, and
cried, exultingly, as he felt me give way under his brute strength,
"Now, you damn fool, shoot!" at the same time drawing his knife to
strike.
I could not speak, or even breathe, but my carbine spoke for me, and the
ruffian fell with the knife in his hand which had been raised against
me! Resolution had proved more than a match for brute force, for I then
knew that not only my own life but also the lives of others depended on
me at this moment. Nothing daunted, the rest came on, like hungry
wolves. Again I cried, "Go forward!" But thinking, maybe, that my rifle
was a single shooter, or that I could not load it so quickly, the order
was disregarded.
"What if I don't go forward?" was "Bloody Tommy's" threatening question,
adding, as he sprang toward me, "I've got this for you!" but fell
instantly as he raised his hand; and there on the deck was ended his
misadventure! and like the other he fell with the deadly knife in his
hand. I was now all right. The dread of cold steel had left me when I
freed myself from the first would-be assassin, and I only wondered how
many more would persist in trying to take my life.
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