The Englishman looked down on the stubborn fellow, with his
chopped, bleeding face and blackened, defiant eyes. A hard swing at
unprotected jaw would stretch him out in broiling heat, but he did not
make the blow. Instead he pushed the frothing fellow away from him.
"Go to your corner and cool off," he panted. "Yes, I'm a thief. Go on
away; I don't want knock you out."
He turned his back deliberately and walked to his own awning. The crowd
stared, absolutely dumfounded by this unexpected turn of affairs. Greer
himself stared, then moved forward automatically to continue his
onslaught, when Hogan grabbed him.
"Come on back," cried the Irishman. "Th' scoundrel has lift ye no ixcuse
to fight him any more. He says he's a thafe, but I don't belave Come git
a wash and let's wrap up yer hand."
At that moment the dignified voice of Gaskin came from the forward
pontoon. The crew hushed their hot comments on the fight to listen.
"A sail," called the cook. "A sail to th' sou'west, sir!"
Instantly every man moved forward. The fight was forgot in the great
hope of a rescue. Even the gory looking principals hurried forward to
see if such welcome news could be true.
CHAPTER XII
THE RETURN OF THE _VULCAN_
Etched against the horizon lay a stumpy masted vessel that seemed as
still and dead as ocean that rotted around it.
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