But guided by it I now managed to make out that the
struggle in progress waged between a burly English sailorman and
two lithe Chinese. The yellow men seemed to have gained the
advantage and my course was clear.
A straight right on the jaw of the Chinaman who was engaged in
endeavouring to throttle the victim laid him prone in the dirty
roadway. His companion, who was holding the wrist of the
recumbent man, sprang upright as though propelled by a spring. I
struck out at him savagely. He uttered a shrill scream not
unlike that of a stricken hare, and fled so rapidly that he
seemed to melt in the mist.
"Gawd bless you, mate!" came chokingly from the ground--and the
rescued man, extricating himself from beneath the body of his
stunned assailant, rose unsteadily to his feet and lurched toward
me.
As I had surmised, he was a sailor, wearing a rough, blue-serge
jacket and having his greasy trousers thrust into heavy
seaboots--by which I judged that he was but newly come ashore.
He stooped and picked up his cap. It was covered in mud, as were
the rest of his garments, but he brushed it with his sleeve as
though it had been but slightly soiled and clapped it on his
head.
He grasped my hand in a grip of iron, peering into my face, and
his breath was eloquent.
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