The long barrel of Master Blythe's pistol slapped that startled face, smashed it back over the rail.
Master Blythe bounced to the deck: right in the middle of the Scorpion's crew. A big blackamoor darted for the mainmast and a rack of cutlasses. His big hand wound around a hilt. Master Blythe leveled his cocked pistol and smoke gushed around an orange flame. The blackamoor's hand turned red.
The Newport seamen stormed over the rail: Old Ben in the van. His wild yell and headlong charge scattered the stunned crew!
The blue-coated officer of the watch roared from the quarterdeck. "Damme! The blighters are rebels!" His commands lashed the Scorpion's crew into action. The deck swarmed. Knots of men, fighting savagely, swirled against the rail.
Master Blythe's small sword was in his hand. He saw the officer on the quarterdeck dash for the small swivel cannon mounted on the rail. The swivel gun was used on boarders. It was effective and it was exceptionally handy.
That swivel gun in the hands of the officer would clear the deck!
"No you don't," Master Blythe muttered. He sprinted along the rail. A cutlass swiped out of nowhere. Master Blythe's hat and his wig sailed into the bay, but Master Blythe's small sword streaked out. The wielder of the cutlass clawed at his bloody throat and sprawled out of Master Blythe's path.
The officer, a sputtering match in his hand, wrenched the swivel gun around. He swung the muzzle over the deck. It pointed directly at a flying wedge of Newport seamen rushing the forecastle head.
"Hold!" Master Blythe roared.
The officer, a snarl of fury on his lean face, jerked around. He had the choice of firing the swivel gun or protecting himself from Master Blythe's small-sword. He dropped the match and cleared his sword.
"Very wise," Master Blythe murmured. He whipped forward, sword poised, to cross blades with the officer.
"Damn your bones!" the officer panted. "You little pup, I'll teach you a trick or two you won't relish!" He lunged at Master Blythe with all the force and anger of a man who has been rudely interrupted in the course of duty.
Master Blythe leaned back from the officer's point and parried with high prime. He was a little slow. The point pinked Master Blythe's cheek.
"Ha!" the officer chortled as blood splattered down the front of Master Blythe's blue coat.
Perhaps, Master Blythe decided, he had been a bit impulsive. This officer's long arm, and clever sword play might well be fatal. The tall officer parried Master Blythe's quick return and savagely thrust at Master Blythe's briefly exposed chest.
Master Blythe jack-knifed, strained to counter in tierce. The officer's point slashed into Master Blythe's coat, grazed his chest and ripped out of the fabric below his left arm!
"Lud!" Master Blythe breathed as he snapped upright.
The officer was grinning broadly, confident and assured. As their blades engaged he nodded. "That's twice! The third time does it!"
He was deliberate in his preparations for the final assault. He started the long and difficult double on both sides
