by Ross Kay
CHAPTER VII
A DESPERATE STRUGGLE
"Sit down, Sam! Sit down!" cried Fred, who was placed nearest him."What's the matter with you? Are you crazy?"
Sam, however, made no answer. He strode forward toward the object of hishatred, paying no attention to Fred's words and showing an absolutedisregard of the danger of falling overboard. Fortunately in this perilthe boat was heavy and very steady.
"Get back there!" cried Fred in alarm, trying to grab Sam's arm.
"Lemme go," said Sam roughly, knocking Fred's hand aside.
"Grab him, John. Grab him," shouted Fred as the excited negro made hisway past the seat where he was located.
"Lemme go," said Sam darkly, and seeing the look on his face John drewback instinctively.
"Hold him, Grant! Grab him, Pop!" shrieked Fred, at the same time risingto his feet and attempting to catch Sam from behind.
He was too late, however. Sam, seeing that he might be balked in hispurpose, took no more chances. He made one flying leap almost over theheads of Grant and George, who were waiting to seize him. This was doneso unexpectedly that the two boys were taken by surprise, and thoughthey tried to do as Fred had begged them, they were unsuccessful. Samtripped and fell forward, but when he landed he fell squarely on top ofhis enemy.
The boat rocked dangerously. Fred was thrown from his feet and fellheadlong to the bottom of the boat. In falling his head struck one ofthe thwarts, so stunning him that he was unable to move.
"Separate 'em, Grant!" cried John. "Stop that fight!"
Grant threw himself upon the contestants and tried to pinion Sam's armsbehind his back. The negro and the sailor were both powerful men,however, and Grant was thrown violently backward as though he had been amere fly. George caught him just in time to prevent his going overboard.
"I can't stop them," he gasped.
"Hit him on the head," cried John. "Do anything. Make 'em stop. Here,let me get down there," he begged.
"Sit down," shouted George. "Sit down, John, or you'll have us allupset."
"No, I won't, either. Let me get by."
"Sit down, String," begged Grant. "Keep your seat."
"Take this oar, then," cried John. "Hit that coon on the head with it."
"It's too big," exclaimed Grant. "Give me something smaller and I'll hithim all right."
The two men in the stern of the boat were locked in each other'sembrace. Sam had had the advantage, for he had landed on top of hisadversary. Petersen, however, had muscles of steel, hardened by years ofservice and labor on shipboard. He tried to grab the black man by thethroat. The two slipped to the bottom of the boat, where they struggledfor the mastery until the veins stood out on their temples and the sweatrolled from them in streams. Their breath came in gasps. It was astrange sight that the early tropical sun looked down upon.
They wrestled and writhed about on the bottom of the boat, first one ontop and then the other. It seemed miraculous that they did not gooverboard. The space in which they struggled was so limited that it wasnext to impossible for any one of the boys to get himself in a positionto separate the fighters. Several times Grant tried, but he was alwaysdriven back, and after several narrow escapes from falling into thewater he gave up the attempt. Fred still lay quietly in the bow, toodazed to be of assistance.
"We must stop this," cried John. "They'll kill each other."
"I know it, String," agreed Grant, "but what can we do?"
"Hit Sam over the head. He's the one that started it."
"I can't get to his head. His feet are pointed this way and every time Itry I get a few swift kicks and nothing more."
"But we must do something to stop them," urged George.
"All right, Pop," said Grant grimly. "You suggest something."
"Isn't there a club in the boat?"
"I don't see any."
"Throw water on them."
"We might do that," exclaimed Grant. "Hand me that canvas bucket,String."
Grant filled it to the brim with water and then soused it as nearly ashe could into the faces of the fighters. The only effect it seemed tohave was to revive them both and the struggle was continued with renewedfury.
"That won't do," cried Grant.
"It seems to be a question of who will weaken first," remarked John,grimly. "I guess we'll have to sit and watch until that time."
"Not at all," exclaimed George. "I say we all pile on and make themquit."
"And all go overboard if we try that," said Grant. "You forget thatwe're in a boat, Pop."
"Let me up there, then," urged George. "I'm sure I can end the fight."
Grant gave way to his comrade, only too willing to let some one else tryhis hand at the problem. They changed places carefully and Georgeprepared to put his plan into execution.
"You better stay here beside me, Grant," he exclaimed suddenly.
"What for?"
"We'll each grab a foot and pull for all we're worth."
"What good will that do?"
"If we can pull one of them away it ought to stop the fight, oughtn'tit? A man can't fight with himself."
"All right," agreed Grant. "We'll see what we can do, anyway."
"Be careful now," advised George as Grant took his place beside him."This is pretty ticklish business."
The two boys knelt side by side on one of the seats. They leanedforward, eagerly waiting for a chance to seize the infuriated negro byhis feet. This was no easy task, however, for his feet flew in alldirections and kicked viciously backward, so that a few bruises were thesole results of the first attempts of the two boys.
"Hit him on the shins," advised John. "That'll fix him."
"We'll try this first," said Grant doggedly. His knuckles were bleedingand his forearms were sore from the treatment he had received from Sam'sboots. The pain made him angry and more determined than ever toaccomplish his purpose.
The fight was now desperate, even more so than before. No human beingscould continue at such a killing pace for long, however. Sam still hadthe advantage which he had held from the beginning. His great powerfulhands were now feeling for Petersen's throat, and from the expression inthe Finn's eyes it was evident that he could not hold out much longer.Help must come to him and come quickly.
"I've got him," cried Grant suddenly as he caught hold of one of Sam'sfeet. "Grab the other one, Pop. Quick."
George grabbed all right, and held on, too. He received a blow over aneye which opened up an ugly cut, but still he hung on desperately.
"Now, pull!" shouted John. "Pull with all your might!"
Both boys exerted themselves to the utmost. They braced themselves andpulled with all the strength that was in them. It was difficult for themeven to hang on, however, for Sam struggled desperately and the two boyswere thrown all about. Still they retained their hold.
"You've got him," encouraged John. "Hold him."
Suddenly Sam doubled up his legs, drawing both Grant and George forward,almost on their faces. Then quick as a flash he shot out with both feet,striking the two boys each full in the chest. Their grip was torn looseand they were sent sprawling backward, over the seat onto John, who toowas bowled over so that all four boys lay in a heap on the bottom of theboat.
Grant was the first to regain his senses, and a strange sight greetedhis eyes. Sam and Petersen were now on their feet, still locked in eachother's arms. Suddenly the Finn wrenched an arm free and drawing backstruck the negro a stunning blow squarely between the eyes. Sam's armshalf dropped to his sides and he reeled drunkenly. Then quick as a flashhe once more seized his enemy in his embrace and a moment later the twomen went overboard.