Crack!  Crack!  Two shots rang out simultaneously.  There was a scream and the sound of a heavy splash.

Ken waited no longer.  Like a flash he flung aside the tarpaulin, and leaped to his feet.  The German was gone, he was struggling in the water and one of their own men was lying writhing in the bottom of the boat.

’Up and at ’em!’ came a hurricane yell from Williams, and with one bound the big coxswain had leaped aboard the launch, and was laying about him with his cutlass.

Ken waited just long enough to make sure that his father was not hurt, then followed.

He heard the Turkish officer shout an order for full steam ahead.  The launch darted forward, but it was too late.  Johnston and another man detailed for the purpose had already flung grappling irons across.  The launch drew the boat with her, close alongside.

‘Out, ye black-faced blighter!’ roared Williams, as he cut down a great burly Turk who was swinging at him with a rifle butt.

Inside ten seconds every mother’s son in the boat had reached the deck of the launch, and a regular hand-to-hand battle raged.

The launch was heavily manned, and after their first surprise the Turks pulled themselves together and fought desperately.  Though the launch was a big one, yet there was not much room on her decks for nearly fifty fighting men, and Ken found himself literally wedged in the centre of a tight-packed mob, which swayed from side to side as the fighters struggled frantically for elbow room.

In a way this told in favour of the Britishers.  The short, heavy Navy cutlasses were much better adapted for a melee of this sort than the rifles and bayonets with which the Turks were armed.

Ken found himself up against a tall, brown-faced fellow who looked like an Arab and was armed with a long sword.  He made a fearful slash at Ken, and though Ken saved his head by a guard with his cutlass, he was beaten to his knees.

Up went the Arab’s sword again, Ken saw the glitter in his savage eyes, and thought it was all over when, in the very nick of time, a revolver spat and turned the fierce face into a blood-stained horror.

Struggling up, he saw Roy leap past and fire a second time at a man who was swinging at him with a rifle butt.  The latter, hit in the shoulder, staggered, caught his heels in the rail, and went backwards into the sea.

On every side revolvers were cracking, there was a confused medley of blows, yells, and oaths.  And all the time the launch, with no one at the tiller, and the boat fast alongside, charged wildly across the sea.

Man for man, the Turks were better fighters than the boarders, most of whom were civilians and unaccustomed to the use of weapons.  But the latter were fighting for their lives and were splendidly led by Captain Carrington, Ken, Roy, and the two big sailor men.  It was really the latter five who carried the day.  They were everywhere at once, slashing and shooting like demons, and by degrees the Turks fell back before them.