fell dead. Three of the _Sovereign's_ own men who
had intended going back with us were now in the fracas also, and as I
started in two more joined.

I saw Phillippi's knife flash for an instant. Then came a fierce oath
from Andrews, followed by a snort of rage and pain. Another shot followed
instantly, and Phillippi was lying outside the swaying figures with a
bloody hole through his forehead.

The only thing I remember as I forced my way into the group and struck at
the scoundrel was that he had one more shot, and I wondered if he would
land it before we had him.

He warded off my knife-stroke by a desperate wrench, but the blade ripped
his right arm to the bone from shoulder to elbow, laming it absolutely.
Even as it was, he lowered his weapon and fired it instantly as it was
seized. An Englishman named Williams was struck through the body and
lived but a moment afterward. Chips now had the weapon by the barrel, and
just as I was about to drive my knife into the murderer over the shoulder
of Johnson, a heavy hand seized my collar and I was dragged back.
Wrenching myself around, I found that I was engaging the tall sailor,
Daniels, and as I did so, Journegan, England, Dalton, Jenks, and our
third officer fell upon the crowd which had borne Andrews to the deck.

All of the English sailors who had started to leave the _Sovereign_ were
now fighting with Chips, Johnson, and myself, making eight men as against
six. But the six were of the strongest and most determined rascals that
ever trod a ship's deck.

As every sailor carries a sheath-knife, the fight promised to be an
interesting one if the men of the _Sovereign's_ crew saw fit to fight it
out. England, however, who was stronger than any two of our men, did not
like going into the matter with the same spirit as Journegan, Daniels,
and Andrews. After he had received a severe cut and had cracked the
skull of the sailor who had given it by knocking him over the head with
an iron belaying-pin, he began to retreat along the deck. Chips had
planted his knife in Andrews's thigh, and had cut Dalton and Journegan
badly in the mix-up.

The Irishman was unharmed save for a few scratches, and being aided by
Johnson, he soon had the men backing away toward the break of the poop,
the third mate crying out shrilly to stop fighting. The queer young man
was defending Andrews mightily with a knife, and for this reason alone
the scoundrel managed to get to his feet and retreat wit