"Me, neider," said Carl. "I vas American mit a Dutch accent, aber I don'd gif in to dot gang. Led dem shood deir olt headts off."
"Our heads will be the ones they'll try to shoot off."
Rifles in hand, the boys watched the boats as they struck the water. Five men tumbled into each of them, and the men were all armed.
Dick laughed softly.
"We're making them take a lot of trouble, mate," said he.
"Oof ve hat a gun like vat dey got, py shinks, ve vould gif dem as mooch fighdt as dey vanted. Ah, ha! der poats iss shtarting dis vay, und vone iss coming py der front oof der wreck und der odder py der rear end. Now vat you t'ink iss going to habben?"
"We're about at the end of our rope, Carl," said Dick. "Those boats are going to board us under cover of a couple of shots from the big guns. The outlook is getting dark. This way! We'll get down the main hatch into the 'tween decks. After the broadside, we'll come up again and fight off the boats."
It was not a time for words. The gunners on the schooner were preparing to fire, and if Dick and Carl got out of the way they would have to hurry.
The main hatch was open, just as Dick had left it when he had gone down after the rifles. Carl, who was following Dick, had no more than got his feet on the ladder, when there were two smashing reports, coming so close together that they sounded almost as one.
Dick, at the time, was standing on the ladder, up to his knees in water, urging Carl to hurry. The firing drowned his words.