The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-03-29

mer of light at our backs. The first rush was reckless and deadly, the in furiated devils not yet realizing what they faced, but counting on force of numbers to crush our defense. Man ueI led them yelling encouragemen and sweeping his cutlass, gripped with both hands, in desperate effort to break through. DeLasser caught it's point with his blade while my cleaver missing him with Its sharp edge, nev- ertheless dealt the fellow q blow which hurled him back into the arms of the man behind. I saw nothing else in de- tail, the faint light barely revealing in- distinct figures and gIeam of steel. It was a pandemonium of blows and yellS, strange faces appearing and dis appearing, as men Ieaped desperately at us up the steps, and we beat them remOrselessly back. I saw nothing more of Manuel in the fray, but his shriu voice urged on his fellows. l. was strike and parry, cut and thrust. Twice l kicked my legs free from hands that gripped me and DeLas~ ser fell, pike thrust through him. Who took his place I never knew, but stout fighter the lad was, yielding his cutlass YtciousIy, So that We held them, with dead men littering every step to the cabin deck
 But they were of a breed trained to such fighting, and the lash of BIanuel's tongue drove them into mad reckless ness- And there seemed no end of them, sweeping up out of those black | shadows, with bearded or lean brown l savage faces, charging over the dead bodies, hacking and goUging in vain effort to break through. l struck until my arms ached. until my head reeled, scarcely conscious of physical action, yet aware of b1anuel's shouts
 "NOw you hell-hOunds-now. once ! more, and you have them. Santa Ma i ria you've got to go through, bulIies i there is no other way to the deck. | Rush 'em! That's the way! Here ! you-gO in outside the rail- Broth of l heHl Now you have him, PedTor r' | For an instant believed it true i; I saw Jim Carter seized and hurled side | ways, his cutlass clashing as it fell, while q dozen hands dragged him | headlong into the ruck beneath. But
 
 | charging devils could pass me, huge ! figure filled the vacant space, and the ! butt of a gun crashed into the mass. ! It was the Dutchman, SChmitt, fight 1 ing like a demon, his strength that Of an OK. They gave way in terror be 1 fore him. and we went down battering | our way, until the stairs were clear to l the deck, except for the dead under i foot When we stopped, not a fight | ing man was left within the sweep of our arms. They scurried back into the darkness like so many rats, and we | could only stare about blindly, cursing 1 them, as we endeaEOred to recover breath. Schmitt roared like a wild l bull, and would have rushed on, but for my grip on his shirt.
 'fGet back, men !'' ordered sharply. 'There may be fifty of them wonder. 1 Our only chance is the stairs"
 We flung the bodies on one side, and formed again from rail to rail. Below us there was noise enough, a babel of angry voices, but no movement of as- sault. What they would do next was answered by a blaze of light, revealing the silhouette of a man, engaged in touching flame to torch of hemp It 2ung forth a dull yellow flare, and re- vealed a scene of horror. Our assail- ants were massed halfway back. Be- tween us, even ten feet from the stairs, the deck was filtered with bodies, ghastly faces staring up, with black stains of blood everywhere. Ii was Manuels hand which had kindIed the light, and the first croak of his voice told his purpose.
 ''Now you skulking cowardG," he yelled pointing forward, do you see what you are fighting? There arc only five men between you and the deck To hell with 'emi Come oni I'll show you the way !"