which had recently been wrecked outside the Golden Gate, and in the
salving of which the Mary Rebecca had taken part.

Crawling carefully along the deck, the two sailors, Ole, and myself
got the heavy plate on deck and aft, where we reared it as a shield
between the wheel and the fishermen. The bullets whanged and
banged against it till it rang like a bull's-eye, but Charley
grinned in its shelter, and coolly went on steering.

So we raced along, behind us a howling, screaming bedlam of
wrathful Greeks, Collinsville ahead, and bullets spat-spatting all
around us.

"Ole," Charley said in a faint voice, "I don't know what we're
going to do."

Ole Ericsen, lying on his back close to the rail and grinning
upward at the sky, turned over on his side and looked at him. "Ay
tank we go into Collinsville yust der same," he said.

"But we can't stop," Charley groaned. "I never thought of it, but
we can't stop."

A look of consternation slowly overspread Ole Ericsen's broad face.
It was only too true. We had a hornet's nest on our hands, and to
stop at Collinsville would be to have it about our ears.

"Every man Jack of them has a gun," one of the sailors remarked
cheerfully.