Hers was no pariah's yelp: she barked with spirit, in the King's English.
For answer, there came a shout, a sharp report, and a bullet that ripped through the matting sail.

The steersman ducked, but clung bravely to his paddle.

Men tumbled out from the cabin, rifles in hand, to join Rudolph and the captain.
Astern, dangerously near, they saw the hostile craft, small, but listed heavily with crowding ruffians, packed so close that their great wicker hats hung along the gunwale to save room, and shone dim in the obscurity like golden shields of vikings.

A squat, burly fellow, shouting, jammed the yulow hard to bring her about.
"Save your fire," called Captain Kneebone.

"No shots to waste.