us backward.  I fired into the mass, as Watkins slashed madly with his cutlass, 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 pandemonium, I was quick to realize the fellows were weaponless, 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 defiantly, every stroke of his blade drawing blood.  I joined him, striking with the butt of the pistol, feeling within me the strength of ten men, yet the very weight of them thrust us remorselessly back.  We killed and wounded, the curses of hate changed into sharp cries of agony, but those behind pressed the advance forward, and we were inevitably swept back into the light of the cabin lamp.

Then I saw faces, hideous in the glare, demonical in their expression of hatred—­a mass of them, unrecognizable, largely of a wild, half-Indian type, with here and there a bearded white.  Nor were they all bare-handed; in many a grip flashed a knife, and directly fronting me, with a meat cleaver uplifted to strike, Sanchez yelled his orders.  Ignoring all others I leaped straight at him, crying to Watkins as I sprang.

“Back lad; dash out that light; I’ll hold these devils here a minute!”

I did—–­God knows how!  It was like no fighting ever I had done before, a mad, furious melee, amid which I lost all consciousness of action, all guidance of thought, struggling as a wild brute, with all the reckless strength of insanity.  It is a dim, vague recollection; I am sure I felled Sanchez with one blow of my pistol-butt, stretching him apparently lifeless at my feet; in some way that deadly cleaver came into my hands and I trod on his body, swinging the sharp blade with all my might into those scowling faces.  They gave sullenly backward; they had to, yelping and snarling like a pack of wolves, hacking at me with their short knives.  I was cut again and again, but scarcely knew it.  I stood on quivering flesh, driving my weapon from right to left, crazed with blood, and seeking only to kill.  I saw faces crushed in, arms severed, men reeling before me in terror, the sudden spurting of blood from ghastly wounds.  Oaths mingled with cries of agony and shouts of hate.  Then in an instant the light was dashed out and all was darkness.

It was as though my brain snapped back into ascendency.  I was no longer a raging fury, mad with the desire to kill, but cool-headed, planning escape.  Before a hand could reach me in restraint, I sprang backward and ran.  In the darkness of the cabin I collided with the table, and fell sprawling over a stool.  The noise guided pursuit, yet, wedged together as those fellows still were in the narrow passage, fighting each other in the black gloom, gave me every advantage and so unhalted, I stumbled up the stairs leading to the companion.  The vague glimmer of daylight showing through the glass, revealed the presence of