Fiction > Book editions > London, 1886 - Kidnapped

86                                     KIDNAPPED.
"That's him that killed the boy!" I cried.
"Look to your window!" said Alan; and as I
turned back to my place, I saw him pass his sword
through the mate's body.
It was none too soon for me to look to my own part;
for my head was scarce back at the window, before five
men carrying a spare yard for a battering-ram, ran past
me and took post to drive the door in. I had never
fired with a pistol in my life, and not often with a gun;
far less against a fellow-creature. But it was now or
never; and just as they swang the yard, I cried out,
"Take that!" and shot into their midst.
I must have hit one of them, for he sang out and
gave back a step, and the rest stopped as if a little dis-
concerted. Before they had time to recover, I sent
another ball over their heads; and at my third shot
(which went as wide as the second) the whole party
threw down the yard and ran for it.
Then I looked round again into the deck-house. The
whole place was full of the smoke of my own firing, just
as my ears seemed to be burst with the noise of the
shots. But there was Alan, standing as before; only
now his sword was running blood to the hilt, and him-
self so swelled with triumph and fallen into so fine an
attitude, that he looked to be invincible. Bight before
him on the floor was Mr. Shuan, on his hands and
knees; the blood was pouring from his mouth, and he
was sinking slowly lower, with a terrible, white face;
and just as I looked, some of those from behind caught