The surgeon was not there; and two black men, one with a knife, and one
with his bare claws, were fighting and struggling and trampling all over
the cabin at once, and the dying man sitting up in his cot, pale, and
glaring at them.
CHAPTER XI
THE two supple dusky forms went whirling so fast, there was no grasping
them to part them. But presently the negro seized the Hindoo by the
throat; the Hindoo just pricked him in the arm with his knife, and the
next moment his own head was driven against the side of the cabin with a
stunning crack, and there he was, pinned, and wriggling, and bluish with
fright, whereas the other swart face close against his was dark-grey with
rage, and its two fireballs of eyes rolled fearfully, as none but African
eyes can roll.
Fullalove pacified him by voice and touch; he withdrew his iron grasp
with sullen and lingering reluctance, and glared like a disappointed
mastiff: The cabin was now full, and Sharpe was for putting both the
blacks in irons. No splitter of hairs was he. But Fullalove suggested
there might be a moral distinction between things that looked equally
dark to the eye.
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