Adventure stories; British -- Portugal -- Fiction; Lisbon (Portugal) -- Fiction; Love stories
Later on, one of the noisiest of the hysterical women drifted our way
and the girl instantly left her place and began to try and comfort
the woman. There must have been magnetism in her touch and eyes, for
the effect was remarkable. The other’s cries ceased and her sobbing
subsided, and she soon regained a measure of composure.
She was a good-looking woman and her face attracted the attention
of a drunken brute of a bully who shouldered his way up and with a
coarse oath tried to put his arm round her waist to kiss her. Without
a second’s consideration of her own risk, the girl thrust herself in
his way and pushed him back with all her little strength, and stood
guarding the woman like a young lioness at bay.
The beast swore viciously, glared at her and raised his hand for a
blow; then his look changed, his eyes blazed with animal passion and he
tried to seize her, swearing he would kiss her instead of the woman.
I shouldered my way to her rescue, but before I could reach her, the
big woman intervened. She grabbed the brute from behind and dragged him
off, with a voluble torrent of language which, “ministering angel” as
she afterwards proved, had very little of the minister and nothing of
the angel in it.
The drunken bully, powerful though he was, had much difficulty in
shaking her off, and by the time he had succeeded, I had reached the
girl and stood in front of her. Finding a man to deal with and one much
slighter than himself, he elbowed himself clear of the throng round him
and prepared to knock me into the next world. But I knew how to use my
fists and he did not; and as he struck at me I easily parried the blow
and gave him an undercut on the jaw which sent him staggering back, a
very much surprised bully indeed.
A fight being a welcome recreation for the prisoners, we were
immediately surrounded by a yelling, oathing crowd, and a sufficient
space was cleared for us to settle matters. It is no credit to batter a
half-drunken man, and I would gladly have avoided the thing if it had
been possible. But it was not. My antagonist was regarded as a sort
of champion by those who knew him; and as they were anxious to see me
mauled, they hounded him on with shouts and cheers of encouragement.
Five minutes finished it; and established a reputation for me which
proved of infinite value for the rest of that terrible night.
His friends led him away to the other end of the place; and when I
turned to go back to my corner, I found that the girl and her big
companion had taken possession of it for the benefit of the other
women. They had cleared a sufficient space to enable the women to lie
down; and by some magic of womanhood had comforted and soothed them
until comparative quiet had been restored.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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