If they do, I shall try and ram one.

We have four barrels for the other, without troubling the men." "You don't think it's a false alarm ?" "No," he said sternly; "the falsity lies somewhere else." "He means Ching," I said, but there was no time for much thought, not even to see a great deal.

The men grasped the situation as soon as the boat's head was straight, and Mr Brooke took the tiller in his left hand, his gun in his right, and cocked it, while I followed suit.
Then I felt disposed to laugh as Ching made a dive down, and began to crawl under the thwarts among the men's legs, but the laugh changed to a serious grin as Mr Brooke steered to pass between the two boats, when the course of one was changed so as to throw her right athwart our way, and quite a dozen men rose up in each, armed with clumsy swords, yelling at us, and dancing about as they gesticulated and seemed to be trying to frighten us back.
"Very well, if you will have it," said Mr Brooke between his teeth.
"Be ready, my lads.

Cutlasses, if they try to board." A sound like the exhaustion of a heavy breath escaped from the men, and Mr Brooke roared at them to pull, while I sat with my finger on the first trigger and the gun lowered a little, gazing wildly at the savage crew before us.
Those moments were like long minutes, but I could make out that, instead of frightening us, the men in the boat which crossed us were now frightened themselves, and they made an effort to give us room.
But there were too many of them--they got in each other's way.

Then there was a wild shriek, a crash, and the head of our fast cutter crashed into them, driving their bows round, partly forcing them under water, and the flimsily-built boat began rapidly to fill.
The second party held a little aloof, too much startled by the boldness of our manoeuvre to attempt to help their companions, so that we had only the first boat to tackle, as such of the men as could trampled over one another in their struggle to get on board us.
But the moment the crash had come our lads sprang up with a cheer, and, forgetting their proper weapons, let go at the enemy with their oars, using them as spears and two-handed swords, and with such effect that in less than a minute the wretches were driven back or beaten into the water, to swim to and cling to their half-sunken boat, whose light bamboos refused to go right down.
"Now pull--down with you--pull!" roared Mr Brooke, and, thanks to Mr Reardon's grand "dishipline," every man dropped into his place, and the boat, which had come to a standstill, now began to move forward, while the tide carried the enemy towards their junks, from whence came now as savage a yelling as that from the boats.
"Without firing a shot," cried Mr Brooke exultantly.