She was silent for a moment, during which time I marveled at her self-possession. “Do you, Captain? Do you have us? How many of those men out there will remain loyal when they realize what has happened?”
Under my feet I felt the deck tilt ever so lightly. The boat was adrift! Surely, Macklem would notice it!
“To be guilty of such a plot as this,” Tabitha said, “a man must be both a great egotist and an optimist. He must believe himself more shrewd and intelligent than anyone else. My father would never have put money in such an operation as this, Captain. It has too many loopholes. You must need, very desperately, to believe in it.”
I was watching them now.
“One need not be shrewd to outwit a pack of fools. And those who are not fools are asleep. This land lies ready for the taking.”
She smiled. “Every crackpot adventurer in the Western Hemisphere has believed that.”
“Within forty-eight hours, it will be mine,” he said complacently. But I knew her talk was reaching him.
“No,” she replied, “you are wrong. You cannot win.”
He got to his feet. “You are very sure of yourself, Tabitha,” he said gently. “All of which makes bringing you to your knees more pleasant.” He turned toward the door, then glanced back. “Tabitha, do you know where Charles is now?”
She turned sharply toward him, and he laughed. “Amusing how tender a woman can feel toward her brother. We’ve decided to use Charles as an example, especially for you. We—”
Suddenly, he felt the movement in the deck and lunged for the door. At the same instant, there was a yell of alarm from aft, then a shot, followed by the rush of feet and the sound of clashing arms.
As Macklem reached the cabin door, I stepped into it.
He reacted instantaneously and struck out hard. I took the punch coming in. It struck with numbing force, but I’d driven hard, and we both staggered back into the cabin.
His left fist caught me over the eye with a blow like a club, and he threw a high right that I instinctively ducked, hitting him under the heart. Piling in close, I smashed away with both fists at his body, but was shoved off and hit again over my eye. I felt a trickle of blood from a cut, slipped inside his next punch, and slammed home two more.
His body was like iron, and he neatly turned aside, throwing me off balance. Before I could turn, he hit me just below the ear, but I took the punch standing and turned on him. I think he was shocked. He had expected me to fall. Instead, I looked at him and laughed.
I was hurt. I was badly shaken—had he known how badly, he could have killed me. We came together then, punching with both hands, and every blow he struck shook me to my heels.
He jerked his knee toward my crotch, but I brought a knee up across my other leg to block it. He shook me with a right to the head and stepped in, his fingers clawing for my eyes. I sank my face against his shoulder and ripped short, brutal punches to his gut.
He shoved me off, and for an instant we faced each other.
“You can fight,” he said contemptuously, breathing hard. “You can fight just a little. Now I am going to kill you!”
He came in fast, and I threw a right hand punch at his face. He went under it and grabbed my left leg, lifting it high as he jammed his palm against my face. As he did so, he slid his leg behind mine, and I went over it backward to the floor. He followed in immediately, but he had not figured on my coming up fast. I had hit the deck hard, but hit it rolling, and was quickly on my feet moving into him.
He slipped on the rolling deck, and I caught his left arm in a hammerlock, pushing it toward his shoulder. He turned, throwing his right across my two arms, locking them behind his back. Then he threw me over his leg to the deck.
This time I was slower getting up, and he caught me in the wind with a vicious kick. I felt a stab of pain and gasped for breath, on my knees. He tried to step back to get distance, but I threw myself forward, grabbing his legs.
They were like iron, and he stood over me, laughing. Then he smashed his knee against the side of my face and knocked me sprawling under a table. He kicked me twice before I could get out, the second kick on the side of the neck and shoulder as I was coming up.
My right caught him on the chin, a short, wicked hook from close in, and it shook him. He stepped off, measured me with a left, missed a right as I came in close, and he tried to rabbit-punch me behind the neck. Strong as he was, I began to realize I was stronger still, and I bulled him back against the bulkhead, where I hit him twice in the body.
Suddenly, there was a terrible concussion from above as a gun was fired, then a second and a third. From Bonhomme Island there were wild yells … another shot.
My face was bloody. There was blood running into my eyes. His own face was smooth and hard as iron, unblemished. Yet, I could see there was no longer the same supreme self-confidence. I had him fighting for his life … as I was.
He sparred a moment. He jabbed at my face, and I went under it. He had half stepped back and was waiting with his right cocked for me to come in. Instead, I feinted, then smashed him on the chin with a right. His eyes blinked, and I hit him again.
Now he circled warily. For the first time, I think, he fully realized he might not win. In the narrow confines of the cabin, we moved toward each other.
Tabitha, who had drawn back into a corner, was watching wide eyed. My pistols lay near her, where they had slipped from my belt as I’d gone to the floor.
There was the pound of rushing feet on the deck outside. A cannon roared again. By the feel of the boat, we were now well into the current. Suddenly, Macklem half crouched, his hand went to his boot and came up with a knife. “Sorry!” he said. “But I’ve business aloft!”
He lunged with the blade, not slashing as he should have, but using his knife like a sword.
Slapping his knife hand with my left to push it away from my body, I grabbed his wrist with my right and, stepping across in front of him, punched him to the deck. Yet a sudden lurch of the vessel threw me, and I fell along side and facing him.
My two pistols were there. He grabbed for one, I for the other. We both fired.
I felt a sudden burn as from a red-hot iron across my shoulder, and he was staring at me, his mouth open and his lower jaw gone. I fired again, and he slumped on the deck. I got slowly to my feet and fell back against the bulkhead.
Somebody loomed in the doorway, and I turned, half blind with blood and sweat.
“Don’t shoot!” It was Jambe-de-Bois. “It’s all right. It’s all over.”
I was gasping for breath as though I’d never get enough in my lungs. I tilted my head back against the bulkhead.
McQuarrie came over and began to wipe the blood from my face. “We found Charlie. Butlin got him loose and brought him to us. Then we opened fire on their camp. We shot into their campfire. It scattered them.”
“Is anybody hurt?”
“A few scratches. We’ve been very lucky.”
“Macklem is dead,” Macaire was saying, and there was a lot of confused talk. LeBrun and Yvette were safe. So were Mrs. Higgs and Edwin Hale.
Tabitha was standing where she’d stood during the fight. She was still staring at me, only now she was trembling.
“You’d better sit down,” I suggested, and she crossed over and sat down beside me.
“Macklem was Torville?” I asked, and she nodded.
“Where to?” asked Jambe-de-Bois.
“Pittsburgh,” I said. “I’ve got a boat to build.” I looked around at Tabitha. “Want to come along?”
“Yes,” she said, “I’ve never built a boat.”