I saw the Lieutenant, bare-handed, dash into the group, striking out left and right, his men at his heels.

There was a volley of oaths, a thud of falling bodies, a sharp command, and the shrill pipe of a boatswain's whistle.

Two men rushed forward, the first disappearing behind the chart-house.

The second encountered Broussard stepping off the bridge ladder, and hurled the fellow to the deck with one blow of a sledge-hammer fist.

Scarcely pausing to see whether he was alive or not, the assailant ran on toward the forecastle.
The whole affair was over in two minutes, the blue-jackets circling out like a fan, and pressing their enemy into a helpless mass against the rail.