“Say, it sure is a row!” exclaimed Ned, for as they came nearer they could hear shots and shouts and yells.
“It’s a regular riot!” said Frank.
“That’s what it is,” said a petty officer in the boat containing Frank and Ned. “It’s a riot, and that’s what we’re going ashore for—to end it!”
In the path of the illumination from the battleship’s searchlights the boats sped on. Now could be seen a dark mass of men fighting near the shore.
“They’re going to dispute our landing,” observed Tom Dawson.
“Well, they won’t dispute it very long,” said Frank, significantly, as he tapped his rifle. “We’re ready for them.”
Up to the beach, through surf that was not heavy, went the boats. Before they grounded the men and youths leaped out into the water and fairly raced up the shingle. In an instant they formed in line and waited for orders from their officers. There were nearly three hundred of them, for the Georgetown carried over a thousand men, though of course many of them were not available for fighting duty on shore. However, several hundred more could be sent in case the impending conflict should go against the first men who landed.
“Attention, men!” called the commanding officer. “I want you to understand what this is about. Our captain has been appealed to for protection by a number of United States citizens living here. According to the signals flashed to us from shore our citizens are being attacked by a mob of the revolutionists. Just why, we needn’t go into now. But we must give protection to our friends, and we are going to try and drive off the mob.”
“Hurrah!” some one cried.
“Lively now, men!” went on the officer. “Forward! There they are!”