"I back you, Telson, old man." "Oh, I didn't mean to cheek you, Telson," said Lawkins, humbly.

"I'll apologise, you know." "Jolly good job," said Telson, grandly, "or I'd have licked you." "All the same," said Lawkins, "old Bloomfield's--" "Look out now!" suddenly broke in Parson, who had been gradually getting excited where he stood; "there's the Welchers coming! Pull hard, you fellows, or they'll cut us out.

Now then! Row, Bosher, can't you, you old cow?
Yah! hoo! Welchers ahoy!" he cried, raising his voice in tones of derisive defiance.

"Yah! boo! herrings and dough-nuts, jolly cowards, daren't wait for us! Booh, funk-its!" With such taunts the Hector of Parrett's endeavoured to incite the enemy to battle.

And the enemy, if truth must be told, needed very little persuasion, especially as the crew in question consisted of Cusack, Pilbury, and the three other ill-starred victim of the raid of two days ago.
They lay on their oars and waited for the foe to come up, Cusack shouting meanwhile, "Who'd be afraid of a pack of thieves like you! _I_ wouldn't! I dare you to land and fight us! Dare you to run into us! Dare you to stand still till we lick you! Dare you to do anything but steal other fellows' grub! Ye-ow!" "Now, you fellows," cried Parson, "put it on." A few strokes brought the two boats level, and then, as they lay side by side at oar's distance, ensued a notable and tremendous splashing match, which was kept up with terrific vigour on both sides, until not only was every combatant splashed through, but the two boats themselves were nearly swamped.
Then, after either side had insultingly claimed the victory, the boats separated, and the dripping warriors parted with a final broadside.
"There you are, take that, and go and tell the captain!" shouted Parson.
"You wouldn't dare do it if Bloomfield was captain," retorted the Welchers.