The Singing Monkey/Chapter 11

ELPLESS and dumb, Vi lay where she had been placed on the floor, staring bewilderedly at the scattered yolk mess, wondering what could possibly have caused the evdient [sic] terror in both Selwyn and the lunatic at the sight of a falling egg. For several moments more she lay. However, that was no time or place to solve such problems. Vi began to wriggle to get loose. The table-cloth, bound hastily around her arms and mouth, was not very securely fastened, and with a little ingenuity she succeeded in freeing herself. Just as she reached the companion steps she heard a pistol-shot followed by an oath in Selwyn's voice.

Rushing on to the deck, she saw him lying prone with a revolver in one hand peeping round the painted canvas of the rail on the break of the bridge.. For a second she paused, wondering what purpose he could have and from whom he was hiding. Then, divining that his opponent must be either Chi Loo or Carnell, she ran on tiptoe across the deck and sprang upon his back, seeking to hold his shoulders down as she screamed:

“I've got him! Quick! Mr. Carnell!”

The suddenness of the attack succeeded insofar as it caused Selwyn to release the revolver. Then with a muffled curse he raised his haunches, half-unseating her, and wriggled round on to his side. Although she was an athletic girl yet he was by no means soft in spite of his drinking.

But just as he managed to grapple with her she succeeded in getting an arm lock. His next effort brought an oath of pain and he subsided quickly. As she caught sight of the mad professor with the wispy beard, and of two of the deserting crew running back across the deck he cried out:

“All right! All right! I'll give in!”

As she let him get up she had just time to notice that the pale eyes of the professor person had lost the idiotic expression they had when she saw Carnell leap up the ladder from the main-deck with a revolver in his hand. Then, before either she or any of the three men had time to grab him, Selwyn, crying some inarticulate words, rushed at Carnell as he came across the deck.

Seeing that Selwyn was unarmed, Carnell stood back as if expecting his revolver to arrest the see but, apparently oblivious of Carnell's weapon in his rage, Selwyn ran straight upon the Second and landed a glancing punch on the other's jaw. Carnell pitched the revolver behind him and parried a rain of blows. As the two sailors and the professor ran forward with the obvious intention of holding Selwyn off, Carnell, whose eyes were quivering with anger, sidestepped and shouted to them to stand back.

Selwyn made a swift rush, feinted and, missing an attempt at a kidney punch, received a half-hook which brought a grunt in acknowledgment. This was followed by a straight right which sent him reeling across the deck.

Carnell held his ground as if he would not deign to follow up the advantage. But whatever else Selwyn was, he was game. He recovered and came back for more; but warily.

For a few moments the two did little more than footwork, Selwyn keeping off and evidently playing for time. As they fought Vi suddenly realized that, unconsciously at first but consciously now, they had challenged each other to a fight for her.

“Mr. Carnell!” she cried out and, turning to the men, exclaimed—

“Seize Mr. Selwyn and make them stop it!”

“Leave him alone!” shouted Carnell angrily, revealing how much his mind was upon Vi, and paid the penalty of the moment's inattention when Selwyn landed a smashing punch on his mouth. However, the men, who had been joined by two of their mates, had made no move to interfere at Vi's request, having, like all their breed, the innate respect for a fair fight, and neither they nor Carnell had knowledge of Selwyn's behavior toward Vi.

The professor, who was standing beside Vi, asked in a curiously querulous voice where these people had come from. But Vi was naturally too much occupied to answer such idiotic questions.

At that moment Carnell, as if satisfied that he had got his adversary's measure and now desired to finish the fight, rushed and got home three severe punches on the heart, ribs and jaw, the last just failing to put Selwyn out. The latter promptly smothered and tried to grapple. He was sufficiently skilful to hold a clinch for a few seconds; then breaking, he let loose a nasty upper-cut, severely jolting Carnell on the  jaw. The Second answered with a left swing and a right punch, both of which Selwyn was agile enough to avoid.

GAIN came a pause as Selwyn backed around, revealing the inroads of overindulgence in the painful gasps of his lungs. His face was blooded and one eye swollen. Carnell also was bleeding from the smash on the mouth. Although Vi cried out again in protest she was dimly conscious of a strange emotion which seemed to keep her limbs glued to the deck; an emotion which throbbed intoxicatingly at each successful blow from either man.

Then quite suddenly Carnell appeared to falter, hesitated and gave ground slightly. Selwyn, fogged somewhat, fell to the ruse and rushed. A swift sidestep and a neatly timed swing sent him to the deck.

By chance apparently, he fell almost on top of the discarded revolver. As his adversary paused Selwyn stirred, rose half to his knees and appeared to roll over.

“All right,” he moaned. “I'm done.”

But as Carnell walked over to assist him Selwyn suddenly pointed the revolver and fired pointblank at Carnell. The men exclaimed. Vi cried out and rushed to Carnell, who had reeled to one side.

But as she reached him one man yelled “The swine!” and, turning, she saw Selwyn disappearing down the companion steps. But at the moment Vi was not concerned with him.

“Aren't you hurt?”

“He got my shoulder. I think that's all,” returned Carnell quietly. “Let me sit down for a moment. Never mind, men,” he called to two of the sailors who were disputing about the singing monkey at the companion hatch.

“We'll get him later, he can't get away. Who's this man here?” he added, indicating the professor, who was staring at everybody in a bewildered way.

“Oh, I don't know who anybody is,” exclaimed Vi. “I mean we're all mixed up. Cut away your coat. And I want some hot water. Where's Chi Loo?”

“Here, missee,” Chi Loo answered; placidly stepping from the chartroom. “I watch Mistle Sellyn cussee too muchee. I get hot water.”

“Don't bother now, Miss Kelvett,” began Carnell.

“Don't be idiotic!” admonished Vic “Give me a knife, somebody.”

As she cut the threads of the coat around the injured shoulder Chi Loo suddenly appeared,

“Mistle Sellyn,” he announced blandly, “he go dead.”

“Oh, gor, it's the bleeding singing monkey!” exclaimed one of the men.

“Never mind if he's dead or not,” snapped Vi. “Get that hot water—and lint from the medicine-chest. Savvee lint?”

“I savvee lint,” agreed Chi Loo, and disappeared.

“Here you,” commanded Carnell to two of the men. “Go and get that revolver that fellow stole and shoot that bleeding monkey.”

He added, looking over Vi's shoulder at the wispy bearded stranger—

“Where the have you come from?”

“But,” said the stranger with an anxiously bewildered air, “where have you come from?”