Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1919-04-16

The Stricken Sailor Told the Whole
Story.
saules had vanished. On the deck lay
the strands of rope with which he had
been secured-they had been severed
with blood stains. l held these out to
Watkins.
"Cut since the MURDER" said, "and
by the same knife. What do you make
of it, TOMB"
swell, sir, the thing he'd most likely
try fer wud be ter release them lads
amidships. My idea is, sir, he thought
he'd have time ter git the bulkhead
door open, before anybody cum be-
low-he an the steward, who'd know
whar the tools wus. That wus the
scheme, only we busted in too quick.
That's whar they both are-skulkin'
back in them shadows"
He fitted the smoking lantern back
onto the shelf to have his hands free
for action, and drew a cutlass out of
the arm rack, running one leatherly
thumb along the blade to test its
sharpness. His eyes sought mine ques-
tioningly.
Probably your guess is the right
one" I said soberly. well give it a
trial."
Murder had been committed for a
purpose-it was the first step in an eff
fort to retake the ship. If we were
to retain our advantage there was no
time to be lost; we were pitted now
against Silva Sanchez, and he was. a
leader not to be despised or temper.
lied with; no cowardly, brainless. fool.
The passage leading forward was
wide enough to permit of our advanc-
ing together and for a few steps the
light dribbled in past US quite sufff-
cient for guidance. / had been down
this tunnel once before, and knew the
bulkhead was not far away, but the
few steps necessary plunged us into
profound blackneSS, through which we
advanced cautiously with outstretched
hands. No slightest sound warned of
danger and / was already convinced in
my own mind that the refugees were
not hiding there, when it happened
Within an instant we were fighting for
our lives, fronted not by two men, but
by score, who flung themselves ours
ing upon US. Their very numbers and
the narrowness OF the passage was
our only salvation. At first our resist
ance was blind enough, guided only by
the senses of. touch and sound. We
could see nothing of our antagonists,
although their fierce rush hurled us
backward. / fired into the mass as
Watkins slashed madly with his cut
lass, both managing in some way to
keep our feet. Hands gripped for. us,
a bedlam Of oaths splitting the air !;
yet, even in that moment of pande-
monium, I was quick to realize the fell
lows were weapenless, seeking only to
reach and crush us with bare hands.
The same discovery must have come
to the mind of the sailor, for he yelled
it out defantly, every stroke of his
blade drawing blood. / joined him,
striking with the butt of the pistol. We
killed and wounded, the curses of hate
changed into sharp cries of agony, but
those behind pressed the advance for
ward, and we were inevitably swept
back into the light of the cabin lamp.
Then / saw faces, hideous in the
glare demoniacal in their expression of
hatred-a mass of them, unrecogniz-
able, largely of a wild, half-Indian
type, with here and there bearded
white. Nor were they all bare-handed;
in many a grip flashed knife, and
directly fronting me, with meat
cleaver uplifted to strike, Sanchez
yelled his orders. Ignoring all others
1 leaped straight at him, crying to
Watkins as / sprang.
"Back lad; dash out that light; TIL
hold these devils here a minute!"
/ did-God knows how! It was like
no fighting ever / had done before,
mad, furious melee, amid which lost
all consciousness of action, all guild
ance of thought. struggling as wild
brute, with all the reckless strength of
insanity. 1t is dim, vague recollec-
ton; 1 am sure felIed Sanchez with
one blow of my pistol butt; in some
way that deadly cleaver came into my
hands and trod on his body, swing
ing the sharp blade with all my might
into those scowling faces. They gave
sullenly backward; they had to, yelp-
ing and snarling like pack of wolves,
hacking at me with their short knives.
/ was cut again and again. / stood on
quivering flesh, crazed with blood, and
seeking only to kill. saw faces