The Argosy, April 1912 — page 43: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

AS THE DICE FELL. 29 I “touched” his shoulder, and a red spot widened on the white of his cambric shirt. My sword-point pierced his Ilcft arm in a lunge that was meant for his heart. Backward ever I forced him. Nor, de- spite his wildest efforts, could he resume the offensive. His bolt was shot. His great body, strong as it was, had begun to pay the penalty for the life it had led. His breath came in sobbing gasps. His eyes were glaring and bloodshot. He still fought ferociously. But I knew the end was not far off. So long as he stood face to face with me, and able to de- fend himself, I felt no shred of pity nor of compunction for what I was about to do. At any instant, now, one of my lunges or cuts must penetrate past his weakening guard with sufficient force to end the com- bat. Smith would be saved, and with him such future as might: possibly lie in store for the Virginia colony, and for the Ameri- cas themselves. And I pressed my foe the more relentlessly. I cut at his head, rising on my toes to give the greater force to my blow. He warded the stroke, yet so feebly that my blade came down upon his head glancing- ly, cutting away his leathern cap and staggering him. I leaped forward to follow up my advan- tage. One more such blow would stretch him lifeless. As I sprang my toe caught against the outflung, stiffening arm of one of the men who had been slain in the attack on the cabin doorway. The ship rolled jerkily as I strove to re- gain my balance, and down I went on one knee. Luckily the fall was not enough to send the sword from my hand. But it shook me, sickeningly. Before I could recover myself or make the first effort to rise Jerry Crowley was upon me. With a shout he had swung his blade aloft, and was bringing it down with every atom of remaining strength on my head. The slash would have cloven my skull in two, had it found its mark. But, as he struck, I flung myself sharp- ly to the right. Down whizzed the sword, barely grazing my left shoulder, yet with sufficient force to benumb my whole left arm. And, as the stroke sped downward, I thrust. I was still on one knee. But I thrust upward and threw the rising weight of my body into the lunge. It all happened in a second. Crowley was drawn forward by the force of his own blow. And my upward thrust’s force was redoubled by the fact that he involun- tarily came to meet it. Through leathern vest, through flesh and through bone, my good blade bit its way. Yes, and its point stood out a full three inches behind the man’s back. Crowley gave a convulsive start, whose force tore the sword-hilt from my wearied hand. Then, for a second, he stood stock- still, his hands upraised, a grotesque look of amazement on his purple face, and my blade transfixing his powerful body from chest to back. He stood there, I say, while all the spec- tators stared breathless. Then, slowly, as if his legs were turned to melting tallow, he began to sink. And he lay on a great, huddled, silent heap on the blood-flecked boards of the deck. | Panting, I stepped back to the doorway of the cabin. “TI will take your hand now, Captain Smith,” I said, “if you are still minded to offer it to me!” “Brave lad!” cried Smith, thumping me on the back in a fashion that may have been commendatory, but was assuredly most agonizing to my wounded shoulder. “Good, brave lad! I could scarce have done a neater job myself. But why did you spare him the time you had him down? You saw how he treated you in like case.” “Yes,” said I, dryly, “I saw. And it made my task the pleasanter. I—” “Trouble!” croaked Aquia, in the Indian tongue. He pointed at the mutineers. While one or two of them were fruitlessly seek- ing to revive Crowley, and to stanch the wound in which my sword-blade still re- mained, the bulk of them were eagerly jabbering together. A less keen judge of human nature than Aquia could have seen that their conference boded no good fortune to us. “Well!” called Smith, harshly. “ Your champion lost the fight. And you will abide by the terms. Back to your quar- ters, all.” Instead, they turned on us as one man, and again their blades flashed out. It was clear they had hastily decided to re- comicaoolks CO