The whole thing happened
in a second of time, for the first Italian was cutting the rope and
Charley was clutching the skiff when the second Italian dealt him a
rap over the head with an oar, Charley released his hold and
collapsed, stunned, into the bottom of the salmon boat, and the
Italians bent to their oars and escaped back under the ship's
stern.
The Greek took both tiller and sheet and continued the chase around
the Lancashire Queen, while I attended to Charley, on whose head a
nasty lump was rapidly rising. Our sailor audience was wild with
delight, and to a man encouraged the fleeing Italians. Charley sat
up, with one hand on his head, and gazed about him sheepishly.
"It will never do to let them escape now," he said, at the same
time drawing his revolver.
On our next circuit, he threatened the Italians with the weapon;
but they rowed on stolidly, keeping splendid stroke and utterly
disregarding him.
"If you don't stop, I'll shoot," Charley said menacingly.
But this had no effect, nor were they to be frightened into
surrendering even when he fired several shots dangerously close to
them.
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