But I only gasped and grunted for answer. Calhoun stopped rowing.
“Will you fight, Bennie?”
There was almost a laugh in his voice, as if he were happy, like a little boy thinking of a fine new game. And somehow I was glad too, and cried, “Yes!” feeling I would rather fight the Confederate batteries than pull through another half-hour so desperately.
“Turn out in the river then. Let's have room.”
And so, when they caught us, we were near the middle of the river and far away from either shore.
“Hoi!” said the one in the prow.
“Ye would, would ye!”
He leaned over to catch the stern of our boat. I stood up and swung my oar behind.
“Go easy, sonny,” said one of those in the stem. “You're wo'th money, wo'th money. Look out there!”
I brought the oar down with a flat slap on the first man's head, who pitched into the water, hitting our boat with his shoulder. And Calhoun pulled hard and sudden, so that I fell forward across my oar, and scrambled up very bewildered.