"YOU can make it all right," he urged her, roughly. "You'll get
hurt if you stay here. Run along and don't mind us. We've been
thirty days on shipboard, and were praying for something to
happen." His voice was boyishly glad, as if he exulted in the fray
that was to come; and no sooner had he spoken than the sailors
came out of the darkness upon them.

During the space of a few heart-beats there was only a tangle of
whirling forms with the sound of fist on flesh, then the blot
split up and forms plunged outward, falling heavily. Again the
sailors rushed, attempting to clinch. They massed upon Dextry only
to grasp empty air, for he shifted with remarkable agility,
striking bitterly, as an old wolf snaps. It was baffling work,
however, for in the darkness his blows fell short or overreached.

Glenister, on the other hand, stood carelessly, beating the men
off as they came to him. He laughed gloatingly, deep in his
throat, as though the encounter were merely some rough sport. The
girl shuddered, for the desperate silence of the attacking men
terrified her more than a din, and yet she stayed, crouched
against the wall.

Dextry swung at a dim target, and, missing it, was whirled off his
balance. Instantly his antagonist grappled with him, and they fell
to the floor, while a third man shuffled about them. The girl
throttled a scream.

"I'm goin' to kick 'im, Bill," the man panted hoarsely. "Le' me
fix 'im." He swung his heavy shoe, and Bill cursed with stirring
eloquence.