“O.K.”
It was almost dark and Rio selected his men, including Martin. They walked up the street to an old pile of lumber by a dark pier.
“Get this, boys—no knives. A club’s best, but not a piece of pipe. Work on ’em hard, but don’t kill ’em. You, Eddy—and you, Martin—an’ me’ll hop the runnin’ board. Smash the glass an’ bring her to the side. We got to work fast before brass-buttons shows up.”
“What if they’re Company officials?” asked Martin.
“They won’t be here,” said Rio, amused. “But if they are, give ’em two, instead of one.”
“What’s the matter with ye, sonny?” asked a dwarf-like man with immense shoulders. “Is yer belly soft?” He glared at Martin.
“We’ll find out soon, my muscle-bound patriot,” said Martin walking toward him swiftly.
Several seamen jumped between them.
“I’ll hear one more crack from either of you, an’ I’ll bat your thick skulls together,” said Rio quietly. “Our union is split already. We got work to do, an’ you start a parade. You ain’t fit to work.”
“I’ll work,” said Martin.