And it’s my 'umble opinion that if the drunk had been armed and so inflamed he might well have shot the girl, or his “mate”, or the youth, or legion, or any combination of the above.
I think the calculation to become involved has to take into account your capacity to do so, one man entering into a mêlée with at least six people whose loyalties you cannot judge would perhaps be foolhardy.
Just making your presence known might have been sufficient, though it is impossible to tell. Sometimes you don’t get the chance to calculate:
My wife (now ex) and I were walking home one night when we heard what we took to be the distressed but muffled voice of a female coming from some waste ground. We approached and, upon seeing some figures stood silently in a corner, I said something cheesy like, “What’s goin’ on 'ere then?” A male stepped away from the girl saying something like, “Nothin’! I was just robbin’ 'er.” (!)
I moved in between them, and perhaps (and certainly inadvertantly) moved towards him. He, sensing some immediate threat from me said, “Come on, then!”, I sensing some immediate threat from him took off my heavy jacket – not to fight more easily but to hit him with.
It was about this moment that my five foot five, 100 pound wife came tearing past me directly towards this guy (who was not small), screaming, “You bastard!”, whereupon he took off. I took off after him – it took several strides to pass my wife – but he, obviously adrenalised like hell, ran at a truly impressive rate and I gave up after fifty yards or so.
The girl was not just being “robbed”, but had been forced to (partially) undress at knife point.
Everytime I think of it, I am glad we intervened, and I am so proud of my ex, mad though she was.