At this critical juncture the bowman of the patrol-boat created a diversion. Taking a turn with the bight of a rope in order to hold the two vessels, the seaman sprang to the felucca's deck, brandishing the gun-metal-tipped boat-hook. Under the formidable blows dealt by the hefty bluejacket, the Greeks went down like ninepins. Knives were as nought when opposed to the powerfully wielded pole of ash. Heads were cracked like egg-shells, arms snapped like match-sticks, and shin-bones broken like glass under the shower of blows. Even in his work of self-defence Osborne could not help admiring the business-like work of his stalwart coxswain.
The struggle was over. Osborne, well-nigh breathless with his exertions, was compelled to lean against the wall of the deck-house. Those of the seamen who had come out of the ordeal practically unscathed, busied themselves by collecting the knives of the vanquished crew of the felucca, and securing the treacherous Greeks who had not been reduced to a state of unconsciousness or helplessness. One by one the prisoners were passed below into the recesses of the felucca's hold, the hatches were clapped on, and the British white ensign hoisted in place of the mercantile flag of a treacherous and effete nation.
By this time darkness was on the point of setting in. The short period of twilight was giving place to intense darkness, for there was no moon and the stars were obscured by opaque clouds. The Fleetwing and the rest of the patrol-boats were already lost to sight.
Having recovered his breath, the Lieutenant went on board No. 0916. He found Webb lying on deck, his head supported by a bundle of sailcloth, and one of the bluejackets bathing his face with sea-water.
"How goes it, old man?" enquired Osborne.
"Better now," replied 'Webb, striving somewhat ineffectually to force a smile. "That brute suddenly threw something in my face—ammonia, I fancy. Just had time to fire my revolver, and then I found myself gasping for breath. Felt as if my throat was gripped by pincers, and my eyes were completely bunged up. Yes, thanks, I can see, but it's still mighty painful. How's the Greek skipper?"
"Dead as a bloomin' door-nail, sir," volunteered the seaman who was assiduously attending to the injured Sub. "You plugged him properly, sir. Served the swine right, I'll allow."
"S'pose so," admitted Webb. "I wonder what it was that those fellows hove overboard?"
"I wonder," rejoined Osborne. "We may find out yet, especially as we have our old pal Georgeos Hymettus laid by the heels. Well, old man, excuse me; I've a lot to attend to."
And Osborne spoke without exaggeration. Here he was, with some of his scanty crew disabled, with a prize on his hands, and out of touch with his parent ship, while in addition it was black night with a dangerous and badly charted shore under his lee. It was "up to him" to extricate his command from the difficulties that beset her, and with characteristic grit and determination Osborne set about his task.