Summary

Portrait of Randall Parrish Randall Parrish Wolves of the Sea — XXXI. The Boat Attack (1918)

A half dozen had reached the deck, leaping from the rail, the others below clambering after their leaders, when with a rush, we met them. It was a fierce, mad fight, fist and club pitted against knife and cutlass, but the defenders knowing well the odds against them, angered by the plight of the girl, realizing that death would be the reward of defeat, struck like demons incarnate, crushing their astounded antagonists back against the bulwark.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Randall Parrish Randall Parrish Wolves of the Sea — XXXI. The Boat Attack (1918)

It was the hank of a spare anchor, balanced for an instant on the rail, then sent crashing down through the frail bottom of the boat beneath. The wreck drifted away into the fog, the two miserable occupants clinging desperately to the gunwales. I lifted Dorothy to her feet, and she clung to me unsteadily, her face yet white.
"Is it all over? Have they been driven off?"
"Yes, there is nothing more to fear from them. Were you injured?"
"Not—not seriously; he hurt me terribly, but made no attempt to use his cutlass. I—I guess I was more frightened than anything else. Is—is the man dead?"
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Randall Parrish Randall Parrish Wolves of the Sea — XXXI. The Boat Attack (1918)

Had they abandoned their search, confused by the fog; or were they still stealthily seeking to locate our position? Could there be more than one boat, and if not what force of men might such a boat contain? These questions never left me, and were alike unanswerable. Unable to withstand inaction any longer I arose to my feet, thinking to pass down the line with a word of encouragement to each man. A glance upward told me the heavy mist was passing, driven away by a light breeze from the south.
Source: Wikisource

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