Blueskin drew the knife across his throat a second time, widening and deepening the wound; and wrenching back the head to get it into a more favourable position, would infallibly have severed it from the trunk, if the officers, who by this time had recovered from their terror, had not thrown themselves upon him, and withheld him. The spikes almost touched the upper part of the hatch: scarcely space enough for the passage of a hand being left between their points and the beam. "He will be murdered!—Help!" "My child!—my love!" cried Wood, dragging her forcibly back.
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