Meanwhile the two dozen ruffianly-looking fellows who formed the felucca's crew—she carried an unusually large complement—had gone for'ard, and were standing in a group around the primitive windlass. Amidships were Osborne and two of the patrol-boat's crew. Two more were standing on No. 0916's deck, fending her off with boat-hooks. The remaining members of the crew were down below in the motor-room.
Suddenly the muffled report of a revolver shot rang out, and a moment later Webb reappeared, holding the still smoking revolver, and with his left hand clasped firmly against his mouth. He was gasping heavily, while his eyes were twitching with pain. By his movements his chum saw that he was incapable of seeing.
"This way, Tom!" shouted Osborne. He could not go to the aid of his chum, for, with the report of the pistol shot, the rest of the crew of the felucca made a concerted rush upon the handful of British. Flourishing their knives and uttering wild yells, in the hope of striking terror into the breasts of their numerically inferior antagonists, they came tearing aft, headed by a tall, broad-shouldered man brandishing an automatic pistol.
Osborne and his men stood their ground. But for the fact that Webb had been temporarily rendered incapable, they would have retired to the deck of the patrol-boat, sheered off, and made good use of their quick-firers. Until the Sub's rescue was assured, his comrades had to make good their front.
An excellent shot from Osborne's revolver brought the mate of the felucca sprawling on his face. Three others of the crew were stopped by the British fire, but even then the rush was maintained, two of the Greeks making in the direction of the hapless Sub, who was groping towards his comrades.
With a bound Osborne gained Webb's side, grasping his shoulder with his left hand. At the same time he dropped one of the Sub's two assailants, while the other, making no further attempt to close, hurled his knife with deadly precision at the Lieutenant.
Stepping adroitly aside, Osborne missed the glittering blade by a hair's-breadth. The missile, sinking a couple of inches into the hardwood tiller, quivered like a twanged harp-string. Simultaneously Webb's revolver dropped from his grasp.
To retreat, leaving the weapon for the use of the enemy, was to court disaster. Since Osborne could not stoop to recover it without running grave risks of being taken unawares, he kicked the revolver overboard, and, still holding Webb's shoulder, dragged the unresisting Sub to the side.
Here the two seamen were still holding their own, though hardly pressed. One, bleeding from a clean cut in the left shoulder, had already accounted for three of his assailants. His revolver being empty, he had snatched at a knife that was sticking in the bulwarks. His companion, using his weapon with deadly skill and precision, had disabled four before the hammer clicked ineffectually upon the empty chamber.
Grasped by the coxswain of the patrol-boat, Webb was hauled unceremoniously on board his own craft. Now remained the task of the rest of the boarding-party, to regain the deck of No. 0916 without giving the felucca's men a chance of rushing them during the retrograde movement.