He was exuberant now that he had learned his enemies were human beings and not ghouls.
“Do ye think those Dutchmen will be able to put up a daycent foight, Misther Madden?” he inquired hopefully.
“They have plenty of arms, Hogan.”
“Sure, that'll hilp 'em some. But Oi'm going to knock th' head off the spalpeen that firrust sticks his mug over that rail.”
“Your chance is coming,” said Madden soberly, as he listened to the increasing noise of the oars.
“Now, men,” directed the American, “lie flat down behind the rail and use your sticks and hand pikes to prize off grapnels. They will shoot your hands.”
“Very well, sor,” breathed several voices.
The noise of the oars grew louder until it sounded immediately beneath the defenders. Hogan stood up suddenly, leaned over the rail with a lump of coal in each hand, and threw down viciously. There was a whack as one lump hit the boat, and a grunt as the other struck some man. In return came a terrific crash of rifles, and bullets spattered the iron
