"Righto!" agreed Brandon.
CHAPTER XVII
THE ATTACK ON THE "FROLIC"
Frank Brandon was surprised at his own coolness. Beyond a peculiar sensation somewhere in the region of his belt he felt calm and collected. Essentially of a peaceable nature, it was the dastardly action of the Belgian fishermen that had roused his ire.
He realised that if it came to blows it would be an unequal contest in point of numbers. As far as the Frolic's crew were concerned there could be no retreat should things go badly with them.
Quickly Old Negus laid out the weapons for defence—a boathook, a small axe, a hammer and a few stones hurriedly removed from the ballast. Then he dived into the fo'c'sle.
"Cocoa's hot," he announced. "We'll see 'ow them Belgians like it. An' I've just a-put the poker in the fire."
Then they waited in silence for the approach of the foe.
The drifter's boat was lowered. The crew of the Frolic heard the thud of the disengaged lower blocks against the vessel's iron sides. A gutteral order and the oars dropped.