Young Tom Bowling: The Boys of the British NavyHutcheson, John C. (John Conroy)
General
Young Tom Bowling: The Boys of the British Navy
Hutcheson, John C. (John Conroy)
Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Juvenile fiction; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction
Hardly had I said this to my chum, making him miss his aim, I am sorry
to say, at the Arab beggar, who made a cut at me the next minute and
would have sliced off my starboard fin if I had not drawn back rather
hurriedly, ere our lieutenant sprang on to the back of Jones, the other
bowman, and then jumped right clean amongst the mass of Arabs in the
bows of the dhow.
"Come on, my lads!" he cried, in the middle of his jump; "follow me!"
This was enough for us.
Without an instant's reflection I imitated Dabby, using Jones's back as
a scaling-ladder, as did half a dozen other fellows; until the poor
beggar was pretty nearly trodden flat into the bottom of the boat.
`Whiz!' went the matchlock balls of the Arabs past our ears; `whir-r-ir'
sliced away their scimitars right and left in the air, with the
regularity of so many flails at work on a barn-floor; but we did not
mind them a bit, for the `phit--phit--phit!' of the bullets from our
Martini rifles pattered amongst the bronze-coloured rascals like hail,
deadening the whiz of their longer-barrelled weapons, while ever and
anon the Maxim of the second cutter grunted out a fusillade of grape,
making a noise like that of an old man with a bad cough on a winter's
night going up to bed in the cold.
"Ship my rowlocks!" as father would have said had he been there, but the
Maxim made some of those blessed Arabs cough, I can tell you; ay, and
put a goodish few to bed too!
"Lor'," cried Larrikins, who was fighting like a bulldog by my side, "I
never did see, blame me Tom, sich a bloomin' scrimmage in me life as
this yere!"
It was all that, it being a case of give and take all round, for the
Somalis made a rare stand.
They went their best for Dabby, seeing that he was our leader; but the
plucky little chap, with his sword in one hand and a revolver in the
other, stood amongst them as brave as you please, cutting at this one,
peppering at that, and guarding in some miraculous way a hundred blows
aimed at him from every side.
Don't think, though, that we left our officer to battle against the
Arabs single-handed.
Not we.
I do not say it in any boasting sense, will you please recollect, for I
am sure that no one who knows me would accuse me of being a braggart;
but, as I am telling of events that really happened, I must speak the
truth, and so to do this I am obliged to say that I was one of the first
to spring to Mr Dabchick's side after he boarded the dhow, Larrikins
coming next with a mad leap that nearly scrunched my toes off, and then
the coxswain of the cutter and the rest of the chaps.
Striking out with our cutlasses, we soon cleared a circle round the
lieutenant; and then, forming up like a breastwork in front of him, we
rushed at the remaining Somalis in the bows, hurling over into the sea,
with the impetus of our charge, those whom we did not cut down outright,
or settle with a thrust from our straight-edged blades.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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