The three fell with a dull thumping on the deck. The guard
tore at Madden's fingers which crushed in his throat. From underneath,
Caradoc panted in sharp whispers:
"Overboard! Down the ladder! Quick!"
As he snapped out his orders, the Englishman was working his hold up
past the floundering guard's waist. Madden's grip was about to break
under the strain the Teuton put on it, but his fingers clung desperately
to the fellow's throat, for one shout would bring a hornet's nest around
the fugitives. Just then Malone whispered hoarsely:
"They're all overboard, sir."
Leonard caught the soft stir of oars in the water below.
"Shall Hi stick 'im, sir?" whispered Malone, grabbing the guard's
bayoneted rifle. "Yonder, comes the new guard!"
Caradoc, who had been willing to blow up a whole shipful of men, panted
out a sharp "No!" Just then the Englishman's long fingers slipped up on
the tendons that ran down the guard's neck from his ears. He pinched
them sharply. The struggling man suddenly gasped and lay still. Caradoc
leaped to his feet. Madden scrambled up. Both were dripping with sweat.
A man with a rifle was running down the deck toward them. The fellow
raised his rifle.
"Overboard!" gasped Caradoc and took a sudden leap over the rail into
the night.
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