Son of a Hero

Returning, his head and shoulders just out of the cabin, Falkner was in time to see Svenson burst like a maniac from the group of men fighting like shadows in the mist at the forward pump. He caught faintly the savage yell of defiance as Flick ran out from among the shadows and intercepted the giant Swede with a blow from a knotted fist that sent him reeling into the drowning wash of the sea. He shouted and struggled toward the fighting mate as the little grey man followed up Svenson’s huge bulk, like a terrier; but other figures staggered out of the blinding spume, naked-armed, bare-chested, with Svenson’s panic gleaming in their eyes.