“No,” said Nic quietly; “we are not enough, but we are going to have our revenge to-night for all the knocking about we’ve had.”
“But we’re not enough, Master Nic. We’re ready to fight, all on us—eh, mates?”
“Ay!” came in a deep growl.
“But there aren’t enough on us.”
“There will be,” said Nic in an eager whisper, “for a strong party of Jack-tars from the king’s ship that was lying off this evening are by this time marching up to help us, and we’re going to give these scoundrels such a thrashing as will sicken them from ever meddling again with my father’s fish.”
“Yah!” growled a voice out of the gloom.
“Who said that?” cried Nic.
“I did, Master Nic,” said the gardener sharply; “and you can tell the Captain if you like. I say it aren’t fair to try and humbug a lot o’ men as is ready to fight for you. It’s like saying ‘rats’ to a dog when there aren’t none.”
“Is it?” cried Nic, laughing. “How can that be? You heard just now that there will be about thirty rats for our bulldogs to worry.”
“I meant t’other way on, sir,” growled the man sulkily. “No sailor bulldogs to come and help us.”