'Up and at 'em!' came a hurricane yell from Williams, and with one bound
the big coxswain had leaped aboard the launch, and was laying about him
with his cutlass.
Ken waited just long enough to make sure that his father was not hurt,
then followed.
He heard the Turkish officer shout an order for full steam ahead. The
launch darted forward, but it was too late. Johnston and another man
detailed for the purpose had already flung grappling irons across. The
launch drew the boat with her, close alongside.
'Out, ye black-faced blighter!' roared Williams, as he cut down a great
burly Turk who was swinging at him with a rifle butt.
Inside ten seconds every mother's son in the boat had reached the deck of
the launch, and a regular hand-to-hand battle raged.
The launch was heavily manned, and after their first surprise the Turks
pulled themselves together and fought desperately. Though the launch was a
big one, yet there was not much room on her decks for nearly fifty
fighting men, and Ken found himself literally wedged in the centre of a
tight-packed mob, which swayed from side to side as the fighters struggled
frantically for elbow room.
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