eir lives, even though the vessel
might have been plundered. As we again caught sight of her, however, we
observed that her yards were braced, some one way, some another, and she
lay like a boy's model vessel on a pond, without a hand to guide the
helm.

"That looks bad," observed Nettleship.

"Perhaps the poor fellows are below, thinking the Algerine still in
sight, and are afraid to return on deck," I remarked.

"Very little chance of that," he replied; "however, we shall see
presently."

On getting near the brig, the frigate was hove-to, and I was sent in a
boat with the second lieutenant to board her. A fearful sight met our
eyes. On her deck lay stretched the bodies of her officers and crew,
almost cut to pieces by the sharp scimitars of their assailants. We
hurried below, hoping to find some still alive, but not a voice answered
to our shouts. Finding a couple of lanterns, we explored the vessel
fore and aft, but the wretches who had just met their doom had made
certain work of it, having killed every human being who had attempted to
resist them. Many of the sufferers whom they had captured must have
perished when their vessel blew up. The lieutenant sent me back to
report the state of things to the captain. After a short talk with Mr
Saunders, Lord Robert sent for Nettleship.

"I put you in charge of the brig," he said. "You may take Pim and
Finnahan with you, and follow close in our wake, I intend to steer for
Gibraltar, and will there ascertain whether it is necessary for me to
send the brig to England or not."

On receiving the captain's orders through Mr Saunders, we immediately
got our traps ready, and the boat carried us on board the brig, with
eight hands to form our crew. Among them was Larry, who jumped into the
boat in the place of another man, who was glad enough to escape having
to go, and Jack Patchett, our coach friend, who proved himself, though a
sulky, self-conceited fellow, a prime seaman. As we were short-handed
we were not sorry to have him. On getting on board the brig we had
first to bury the bodies of the murdered crew. Her ship's papers showed
her to be the _Daisy_ of London, John Edwards, master. The pirates had
rifled his pockets, and those of his mates, so that we were unable to
identify them. We at once, therefore, set to work to sew the murdered
men up in canvas, when, without further ceremony, they were launched
overboard. We then washed down decks, to try and