Midshipman Merrill

The three youths of the group who had not taken a hand in the destruction of the toy ship had seemed at first to regret their inability to also fret the young sailor; but the moment that the two ringleaders, Scott Clemmons and Ben Birney, had measured their length upon the ground, falling with a force that seemed to knock the breath out of them for a moment, the trio appeared delighted that they had no hand in the breaking of the little miniature ship, and stepped quickly backward out of reach of the dangerous arm of Mark Merrill.

But Scott Clemmons was not one to submit tamely to a blow, and with his face bruised by a severe contact with the fist of the sailor lad, he arose to his feet, and whipping out his knife rushed upon his foe with a bitter oath, and the threat:

“I’ll have your life for that blow, sea cub!”

Mark Merrill had boldly stood his ground, but seeing his danger he quickly stooped, seized the hull of his broken boat, and with a lightning-like movement brought it down upon the head of his assailant with a force that appeared to kill him, so motionless he lay where he fell.

“Come, mates, he has killed Scott Clemmons, so seize him!” shouted Ben Birney, and he sprung toward the lad, followed by the other three who were made bold by their numbers.

The sailor lad stood at bay now, his face pale, but stern and determined, his eyes ablaze, while in his hands he grasped the hull of his now badly-wrecked ship, making it serve as a weapon of defense.

But ere Ben Birney had reached within arm’s length a form suddenly sprung forward, and a ringing voice cried:

“Back, you young cutthroats, for I’ll take a hand in this unequal game.”

The four youths shrank back as though they had run against a stone wall, for the sailor who had addressed Mark Merrill upon landing now confronted them, and more, he held a revolver in his hand, the muzzle covering the group, his finger upon the trigger.