Nothing short of violence would stop her now.
Tollemache darted out into the darkness, and she mounted the steps two
at a time. Christobal panted by her side. He was determined not to be
parted from her: if necessary, he would drag her away from any doubtful
encounter on the battle-field of the deck. But his blood was aflame
now with the lust of combat. He wished to die fighting rather than by
a suicide's bullet.
They were not yet clear of the doorway when an extraordinary burst of
cheering and shouts in English and Spanish assailed their wondering
ears. The sounds seemed to come from the sea, from some point very
near to the ship. A loud hubbub arose among the Indians; Courtenay,
clubbing his gun, rushed past, with the dog at his heels, and ran up
the bridge companion. They could follow his progress as he raced
towards the port side, and they heard his amazed cry:
"What boats are those?"
"Your own, captain," came the answering yell, plainly audible above the
din.
"That is Mr. Gray," screamed Elsie, and she, too, ran towards the
bridge, with the doctor close behind.
"Sink every canoe you can get alongside of, and knock those fellows on
the head who are swimming," roared Courtenay, who was so carried away
by the fierceness of the fight from which he had just emerged that he
would have given the same directions to the archangel Michael had that
warrior-spirit come to his aid.
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