"This is mutiny!" he shouted aloud. "Every man-jack
will hang for it by the ship's articles! I'm for you, Mr. Madden!" and
he made a surprising assault from the rear.
Madden and Caradoc squared away at each other. The Englishman headed his
men, his long face sinister in the lamplight. But he had hardly taken a
step when an absolute pallor whitened his countenance, he halted,
shaking, gasping, then flung back an arm to Galton.
"I--I'm fizzled out!" he stammered with twitching lips. "Go
ahead--fight!"
"You'll hang--you'll hang for it!" bawled Greer, mauling at the men
behind.
Caradoc crumpled down on the floor. The navvies, with an English dread
of legal authority, hesitated, thinking perhaps Caradoc had deserted
them purposely to clear his own skirts in the mutiny.
Madden instantly caught up the loose ends of his raveling authority.
"Lay him on the bunk, Galton!" he commanded.
Galton obeyed instinctively, half carrying the long sagging form to the
bunk.
"Hogan!" he thundered at the cyclone on his right, "you and Mulcher stop
that! Stop it, Mulcher!" he turned to some of the men. "Part 'em there!
Stop 'em!"
Six navvies, three to the man, jumped and grabbed the combatants.
"Just look, will you?" Madden pointed to Caradoc on the bunk.
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