orked himself in behind the pirate; and, with a
well-directed blow with the feather duster on the head of Flanger, he
brought him to the floor.

[Illustration: Flanger in the Captain's Cabin.--Page 281.]

CHAPTER XXV

THE DESTRUCTION OF A PROMINENT FACIAL MEMBER

The cabin steward had two feather dusters, one of which was very large,
and the other of medium size. He had used the big one so industriously
that very little was left of the feathers except the bare quills that
were inserted in a cylinder of hard wood, too heavy for the use of a
delicate female, though Dave had wielded it till it was in better
condition to be thrown overboard than to be used on the panels and
furniture of the cabin.

Captain Flanger was at the critical point in his operations, and he
was too busy with the commander to give any attention to the negro, whom
he regarded with the contempt begotten of his Southern education. Dave
was intelligent enough to understand the situation accurately, and he
realized that it was rapidly becoming critical. He knew that Christy was
unarmed, and that the whole attention of the pirate was concentrated
upon him, so that he could do nothing to help himself.

He knew also that if he attempted to leave the cabin to procure
assistance, Flanger would shoot him with as little remorse as he would
kill a coon in the woods. Watching his opportunity without trying to get
behind the intruder till the decisive moment came, he sprang into the
position he had selected in advance, and brought down the heavy head of
the feather duster upon the temple of the privateersman.

Probably it was the shock quite as much as the force of the blow that
brought down the steward's victim. But it was a heavy stroke, for the
wood of the feather duster was split into many pieces, and the stumps of
the feathers were scattered all over the table. The onslaught could not
fail to be very confusing to the ideas of the intruder, and he seemed to
be tangled up in the arm-chair in which he had been seated.

Captain Flanger was a man of stalwart proportions, and Christy realized
that he was no match for him in a hand to hand encounter, even with the
aid of the steward, for the ruffian would not fail to use his revolvers.

Dave was not satisfied with what he had done, and as his foe went over
in the chair, he sprang upon him, and tried to wrest the pistol from his
hand, and a struggle on the floor was begun, the result of which could