Sam and Gillis put their backs to the bar and gave battle. There were
only the two of them, and the turkey, at first. A great bird a
turkey--especially when you swing him by the ankles. Down went a waiter,
and down went another waiter. Sam made a couple of tremendous swipes,
and then down went the _Aurora's_ captain and one of his crew. The
_Aurora's_ captain's head, I thought, would be knocked clean off, the
way the turkey hit him. Then over went a row of French stokers, and,
with a back-handed sweep of the turkey, down went the bartender behind.
And Sam and Archie, I could see, were working over to finish the
_Aurora's_ new crew, and would've got 'em, too, but Argand, inside the
bar, picks up a bung-starter, sneaks down and gives Sam and Archie a
couple of slick taps over the ear, and down they went--just slid feet
first away from the bar and on to the floor, flat--and as they slid
Argand reaches over and grabs the turkey out of Sam's hand.

[Illustration: Sam made a couple of tremendous swipes, and then down
went the _Aurora's_ captain and one of his crew]

That sort of put it up to our national pride--there was six or seven
American fishermen in the place--and we waded in, and the French
man-of-war's men, they waded in, and it was one fine battle for maybe
ten minutes, with nothing in the way of empty bottles, or full ones
either, being overlooked. And when we couldn't reach any more chairs or
table legs we pulled off our sea boots, and, believe me, a big red jack
with a three-quarter-inch sole and an inch and a half of heel--you grab
a sea boot o' that size--it don't weigh more than four pounds or so--you
grab it by the ears and get a full healthy swing on it and let it hit a
man anywhere above the water-line, and he won't mistake it for any sofa
cushion.