Lighting a small sliver of the pitch pine, I stepped back on the log and held it up.
As my small light flared, the injured man's head turned.
"Davy! Davy Shanagan! How in God's world did you--his" "Had to... hide. They were comin'. I crawled, found a hole up above. I crawled, and fell... maybe six, seven feet. Started bleedin' again. I tucked your moss in, finally got her stopped." Holding up my hands, I got him under the armpits while he held the pine sliver. Then I eased him down to the floor of the cave.
"I'm better. Slept some." "I was hunting the treasure, Davy. Had no idea you were up there." "Figured as much. Well, you needn't hunt no longer. It's there." I stood up. "Davy... you mean it?" "Sure. When I crawled in the crack up there, I fell right atop of it. She's there, all right. At least there's four hide cases up there ... rotted some. One of them busted when I fell." "Davy, the treasure will have to wait. I've got to get you to Ebitt and Heath. They're just--was "You don't need to do that, Chantry. A bullet will take care of him, and another for you!" It was Rafen Falvey.
I left the cave floor in a plunging dive with all the thrust of my legs behind it, and I hit him just below the knees.
CHAPTER 21
He fell back, out of the cave, and we came up together. His men were waiting outside and I prayed they had heard nothing. They started to close in, but the click of a rifle hammer stopped them.
"We got some rifles out here"--it was Solomon Talley speaking--"and we don't much mind who we shoot. You men just step back and let them be. If they've something to settle, let them have at it." Falvey laughed. "You'd fight me?" His amusement was obvious. "Schoolteacher, you're more of a fool than I suspected." "Possibly. But that's something we'll have to discover, isn't it?" "What weapons then, schoolmaster, do you choose?" "Whatever you like. I'd prefer to whip you with a weapon you've chosen. Shall it be hand-to-hand?" He laughed again. "Scholar, in my pirate days I was considered the greatest hand-to-hand fighter among all who flew the black flag. Why not choose again?" "Afraid?" His laughter wiped out on the instant.
"Afraid? Of you? Why, you contemptible--to " "What is it then? Are you choosing name-calling, Falvey? Is that your weapon? Only a loud mouth?" "Hand-to-hand, then. Fists and as you will. Take to the knife when it pleases us." "And no interruptions, gentlemen!" That was Heath speaking, so they were here, too. All of us, I hoped.
He struck, suddenly, savagely. An inch or two lower and he might have knocked me out, but there was a quick, partial move to evade on my part and the fist took me on the cheekbone, a wicked blow that staggered me, shook me to my heels, and all I could do was duck my head and close with him.
He threw me promptly, over his hip and into the dust, and then he dropped, a knee ready for my belly, but I rolled over swiftly, unexpectedly for him, and we both came up fast. But that time I was first to land. A stiff, straight punch to the teeth, that shook him to his heels and then we were fairly at it.
He was the taller man, with the longer arms, and he was heavier, but since a boy I had hiked and rambled in the woods, had swung an axe, and growing older had tumbled and wrestled with other lads. In Europe I had fenced and boxed.
Often I had sparred with Daniel Mendoza, one of the greatest pugilists of the time, hence I was not quite the innocent they believed me to be.
He smashed me in the face with both fists, and I put a solid one to his ribs. He struck me again, on the ear, then on the chest, but I put another one under his heart. We sparred briefly, and then were at it, hammer and tongs, both fists flying. He landed more punches, andfora time the harder ones, but I put three more stiff ones into his midsection, and one to the face.
He backheeled me and we both fell. Again he tried for my groin with the knee, but I smashed up with both feet as he came down and kicked him off. He hit the ground on his backside, but we both came to our feet together.
"So, Scholar, you can fight, too?" "A little," I said, "but I am not the greatest hand-to-hand fighter under the black flag." He came in swiftly, struck at my face with a jab of his left that I parried, hitting him again over the heart.
He laughed at me. "Nothing but ribs there, you'll do no good. They're iron." I feinted toward his face, stepped in and smashed another one to the same place, and then as we clinched, I hit him twice more in the same spot. He threw me off, angry now. Struck me in the face. I went under his next blow with a straight, hard right to the body.
The blow caught him coming in and I knew I had hurt him. He smashed me in the face with an elbow, over and back, and I butted him under the chin, not minding the rough stuff, stamped on his instep, and butted him again. He broke free, cut my face with a right, and took two solid ones to the belly, and they hurt. He backed away, circling, trying to decide what to do with me. Finally he came in, I ducked one punch, but the second caught me fairly on the chin and I was knocked down. Dazed, I started to get up. He kicked at my face and I had barely the chance to turn my head. The kick cut the side of my head and knocked me over into the dust. He jumped to come down on my stomach with both heels, but I jerked both knees up and kicked out. My double kick caught him coming down and spilled him. He fell near me, grabbing at my face with his clawed hand, reaching for my eyes.
Panic-stricken, wild with fear, I struck his hand away and scrambled up. He was wild now, and he came at me swinging both fists. I was driven back and back, his fists hammering at my face, and there was no chance to get set, no chance to ward off the blows. I went to my knees and his own eagerness carried him on. He half fell and we both got up, but he was on me like a tiger. I could not get a blow into hm, only keep my elbows in close and my hands close to my face. Had he taken a bit more time he might have had me then, for the very ferocity of his attack swept me back. I had boxed much, but had never fought anyone like him, and he was relentless.
Finally in sheer desperation I ducked my head against his chest and smashed both hands to the body.
He shoved me off, chopped a short one to my chin, and I shook it off and went in, swinging both fists to his body, and then lifting a right in a furious uppercut that caught him on the chin. He staggered, and his knees buckled, and as he started to fall, his hand went to his knife.
It caught the haft and he swung the blade in a wicked slice at my belly that had it reached me would surely have ripped me open from side to side. My own blade came out, but this was something at which I had my own skill. He came in, but I was ready, my knife held low for the soft parts of the body. He slashed again but I parried it with my own knife and his blade slid off it and away. I stepped in to cut him, and his knife came back and up. Too late I saw it coming, tried to evade the trap he had set for me. The knife was coming up hard for my groin, and there was but one thing I could do. Using his shoulder as a balance point, I turned sharply on the ball of my left foot, spinning clear around. The blade missed... or seemed to... and I fell backward to the ground.
He turned sharply to face me, knife ready to kill. Cold sweat broke over me. For the first time I really realized what I was in for. In the turmoil of movement and fighting, somehow there had been no realization that this was a fight to the death.
Subconsciously the knowledge had been there, of course.
In that moment of looking up at him, his eyes blazing, his face twisted with ferocity, I knew I wanted to live.