"No expert riflemen there," Gregory commented.
Dickie shook her head. "A knife's their long suit," she answered. "I never saw them shoot much before. Don't believe they——"
A jingle of breaking glass interrupted her and the starboard side-lamp toppled from the bracket and crashed to the deck.
"Get down," Gregory commanded. "They're getting the range."
The girl smiled and wiped away the blood which spurted from a small cut in her cheek. "Just fool
luck," she answered, leaning coolly against the stays and reloading her rifle. "That was only an accident."
Gregory was by her side in an instant. Grasping her roughly by the arm he said harshly: "Get down, I tell you."
She jerked away her arm and started to speak. Then she dropped to the deck.
"Maybe you're right at that," she admitted, a smile playing about her lips.
The firing became brisker as the distance lessened between the two boats, while the enemy bullets became wilder and more desultory. Dickie ceased firing and turned to the man at the wheel.