The order of the commodore indicated no sign of relenting, and Will Orwell realized that all his warning and explanations had done no good in opening the eyes of the Chesterfields and their allies. The Dasher was coming slowly up to the raft, for her speed had not been fully checked. When it was within ten feet of the point where he stood, the first officer saw that the time for action had come. With a well-directed lunge with his pike-pole, he drove the end of it entirely through the bow planking of the barge, about on the water line.
The thin boards snapped and splintered, and the pikeman had some difficulty in withdrawing his weapon from the wound he had made. The force of the blow had overcome what little momentum the barge had, and brought her to a standstill. Four more pikes were ready to complete the work of destruction the instant the first officer gave the order.
"There is a hole stove in the bow!" yelled the bowman of the barge.
"Shove her ahead again!" added Tom Topover, mad with excitement.
"Row again!" shouted Mad Twinker to his crew; and this order made it clear that he did not intend to retire from the contest.
"Punch her, Lew!" said Will, as the barge began to advance again. "Hit her a little lower than I did."
Lew Shoreham was a stout fellow, and he rammed his pike through the other side of the bow, just below the water line. The wound he made was a more ragged one than the first, and the water poured into the barge like a young cataract. But Mad promptly checked the movement of the boat so as to strike the tow gently, for the safety of his own craft.
The stem of the barge had come within three feet of the caisson, and Tom Topover made a flying leap. He was followed by two others; but the last one fell a little short of the mark, and went into the water, though he caught hold of the tow with his hands.
