Madden had
dislodged two or three, when Mulcher cried out for help.
The enemy had succeeded in catching a fluke on the rail, and putting so
much weight on it that the cockney could not prize it off. Immediately
Hogan and another defender crawled to Mulcher's aid like big lizards.
They thrust in sticks and spikes and prized vigorously, while the
bullets were drumming on the plates outside.
It stuck and Leonard started to their aid, when a hook in his own
territory demanded his attention. Just then a head came up over the rail
just above Hogan and Mulcher. The German had turned his automatic on the
defenders when Hogan's shillalah caught him on the temple. He reeled
backwards, his pistol spitting into the air. He knocked down the whole
line of men below him amid crashings, shoutings and splashings in the
water below. The moment the weight was off, Mulcher loosed the grapnel
and flung it down into the confusion.
The hail of bullets was immediately renewed, and more hooks came flying
over. The iron rails rang like a boiler shop, and the steel missiles
glanced off whining like enormous mosquitoes. Madden whirled his head
for a glance aft.
The same sort of drama was taking place amidship, boarders were climbing
over the rail and arms, sticks, and iron spikes snapped out of the inky
shadows and smote them.
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