Adams went down, and we two only were left.

"Save yourself! Jump!" cried Jones. "I'll keep 'em back! Avast there,
you black-hearted swabs, or I'll chop you to pieces!" And as five of
them, the soberest of the lot, came rushing on us in a body, he laid
about him right and left with a large cutlass, much heavier than I
should have believed he could use, and the beggars rolled over, slashed
and mangled beneath his strokes.

I never before or since have seen a man fight like Atlantic Jones did
then. Stripped to the waist, his long hair flying in the wind, his
hands red with blood, his body bespattered, too, he looked more like a
fiend than a human being, much less a very bad play-actor; but all the
while he fought he never once ceased yelling out the silly gibberish he
thought was sailors' talk.

They fell back at last enough to allow us to reach the boat, and we
pushed off. They fired on us then, furiously, and I did all I could to
make Jones lie down, to be out of harm's way, but he would not--
continuing to yell defiance and wave his cutlass. Those left alive were
too drunk, fortunately for us, to make any decisive effort to stop us;
and we drifted away, for the oars had fallen into the water.

This would be a longer tale--and it's long enough now, I'm sure--if I
were to tell you what we suffered those four days we drifted in the open
sea. Then, more dead than alive, I was taken on board a passing ship;
and Jones, who had tended me the while with every possible care, though
his own sufferings were at times intense, nursed me through a long
illness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I told you I never could tell a tale. My tale ought to have begun where
it's left off, pretty nearly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The last time I saw Jones he was at his play-acting again at the Hull
Theatre. He was a sailor once more, and had a deuce of a set-to with
some Lascars. But the audience didn't seem to think much of it. They
goosed him, and shied orange-peel.

Very low-spirited he was, poor chap, when I met him at the stage-door
afterwards, and he didn't cheer up much when I stood some beer.

Next day I picked up with a skipper, and got off on a whaling voyage.
Rare game it was, ketching the big fish, I can tell you, only one day
they put me ashore on an iceberg to pick a hole for an ice-anchor, so as
to get the ship on th