It happened fast.
As Saks took aim Menhaus moved with a speed he’d thought abandoned him years ago. Saks hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t even remotely expected it. He probably just assumed Menhaus would curl up and pout. And that was his mistake. Menhaus threw his body against Saks, upsetting his aim and knocking him into the gunwale. The gun went off, but the bullet went into the sky. And then Menhaus had his hands on it, struggling against Saks. Saks kicked him in the stomach, in the thigh, but he would not let go.
By then, Cook and Fabrini were at his side.
Fabrini punched Saks in the face about four or five times while Cook and Menhaus wrestled the gun away.
The fight gone out of him, Saks let it go and sunk to the deck plating. Used up and empty, all the hot air gone now like somebody had bled him empty.
He did not look at them or even speak.
Cook took the gun to the bow where it would be out of harm’s way.
Fabrini took the knife from Saks’s boot while Menhaus held him.
It was all over very quickly.
“There,” Fabrini said, giving Saks a good kick in the ribs. “There you are, asshole. What’re you going to do now?”
Saks just stared at him, his face smeared with blood.
“I’m going to kill you,” Saks said and dove at him.