The Hero of Panama: A Tale of the Great CanalBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
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The Hero of Panama: A Tale of the Great Canal
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
Panama Canal (Panama) -- Juvenile fiction
"I've got more of that for the likes of you," said the captain, stepping
swiftly forward and meeting the man with a terrific blow from his fist.
Indeed the Spaniard turned a half-somersault, and landed with a thud on
the deck. But his mates were too desperate to notice his discomfiture;
they came at the little band in a mob, and in a moment Jim and his
comrades were fully engaged. A little active man bent low and ran in at
our hero, while the latter caught the glint of something bright in his
hand. Crash! The staff with which he had provided himself fell on the
Spaniard's head and sent him sprawling. Bang! Sam's ponderous weapon
missed the mark at which it was aimed and struck the deck heavily. Next
instant the negro was locked in the arms of one of the attackers and was
rolling with him on the decks.
But Jim had no time to watch him, nor opportunity of assisting, for the
horde of men threw themselves on him and his comrades furiously. One
managed to come to close quarters with him and struck with his knife;
but the blade did not reach his person. A quick leap to one side saved
him. Then the staff swung downwards and the man collapsed.
"A rare blow, lad. A rare one!" shouted the captain. "Boys, we'll be
moving forward."
But the command was easier to give than to obey. Not all the efforts of
the little party could make an impression. It seemed as if the captain
would be defeated in his efforts to control the boats. But suddenly
others arrived on the scene. It was the engine hands, headed by an
enormous negro. Was it wonderful that Tom should itch to join in the
fray? He had seen his mistress into a place of safety and had left Ching
to guard her. Then, realizing that instant victory in this struggle
could alone save everyone on board, he had led the engineering staff
down the companion.
"By de poker! not stand quiet and 'low boats to be hoisted out," he
bellowed, forcing his way to the front. "Not 'bey de captain and help
when de ship sinkin'. By de poker, but dis not go on! Yo, what yo
doin'?"
He seized a man who rushed at him, as if he were merely a child, twisted
him round till his feet were in the air, and threw him back at his
comrades. Then, smiling all the while, he rushed at the attackers,
regardless of their knives, striking them down in all directions.
"Hooray! Now, boys," shouted the captain, "that darkie's done it for us
fine. Beat 'em back; there's still time to mend matters."
Bunched together, and led by Tom, the little party threw themselves upon
the Spaniards, striking right and left remorselessly. And in the space
of a few seconds they had borne them back as far as the bulkhead, above
which was the poop.
"If some of you men don't drop those knives precious quick I'll know
why," commanded the skipper.
"By de poker--yes! Tom know why, yo bet!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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