withdrew
it, the wild abhorrence of the thing came upon me.

I stood up, and there, within ten feet of me, was that sneering ruffian
standing coolly, with his pistol in his hand.

It was such a cold-blooded, horrible thing, done without warning, that I
was speechless. Chips stood near my side, cursing softly, and looking
with fierce eyes at the assassin. Jim came up the companionway, but saw
that all was over. My three sailors were like statues, Phillippi
muttering unintelligibly.

For nearly a minute after the thing happened I stood there gazing at
Andrews and the rest, paralyzed for action, but noting each and every
movement of the men as though some movement on their part would give me a
cue how to act.

All of a sudden the piping voice of our third mate rose in a laugh, while
he cried, "He's gone to heaven."

It was as though something gave away within me, and before I fairly knew
what I was doing, I was rushing upon Andrews to close.

I remember seeing a bright flash and feeling a heavy blow on my left
side. Then I found myself in the scuppers looking up at a struggle upon
the _Sovereign's_ quarter-deck.

At the signal of my rush for Andrews, Jim, who was somewhat expert at
tackling persons, dashed at him also from starboard. Chips instantly
followed on the other side, and then, our men seeing how things were to
go, closed from the rear. All six of us would have met at Andrews as a
converging point, had it not been for the scoundrel's pistol.

His first shot struck me fairly under the heart. It knocked me over, and
I rolled to port, deathly sick. Thinking for a moment I was killed, I
made no immediate effort to recover myself, but lay vomiting and
clutching my side. Then in a moment the weakness began to leave me, and I
was aware that I was clutching the heavy knife I carried in my breast
pocket. I drew it forth, and as I did so, something fell to the deck at
my side, and I saw it was a piece of lead. Then I saw that Andrews's
bullet had jammed itself into the joint of the hilt, smashing flat on the
steel and breaking up, part of it falling away as I drew it forth. The
knife had saved my life; for the shot had been true, and would have been
instantly fatal had it penetrated.

I started to my feet and saw Jim lying motionless just outside the
swaying crowd, which had now closed about the murderer. At that instant
Andrews fired again, and Hans, who had tried to use his knife, staggered
out of the group and