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.
"Yes, and a knife, too," the other sailor added.
It was Ole Ericsen's turn to groan. "What for a Svaidish faller
like me monkey with none of my biziness, I don't know," he
soliloquized.
A bullet glanced on the stern and sang off to starboard like a
spiteful bee.
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