gely. The wounded sailor had fainted and slipped
to the deck. Jeremy saw the saddle-colored mate step swiftly to one
side, then come up from behind the mast, drawing a long dirk from his
sash as he neared Job's back. He had lifted the knife and was stepping
in for a blow, when Jeremy pulled the trigger of his musket. There must
have been an extra heavy charge of powder in the gun, for its recoil
threw the boy flat on the deck, and before he could regain his feet he
saw a man close above him and caught the flash of a hanger in the air.
Desperately Jeremy rolled out of the way, and none too soon, for the
blade cut past his head with a nasty _swish_. He scrambled up and caught
a boarding-pike from the deck as he did so. The pirate followed, hacking
at him with his cutlass, and for seconds that seemed like hours the boy
fought for his life, parrying one stroke after another, till the pike
shaft was broken by the blows, and he was left weaponless. As he ducked
and turned in despair, a man from the _Tiger_ ran in and caught the
buccaneer on his flank, finishing him in short order.

The deck was now full of struggling groups, for though a score of the
longboat's crew had climbed aboard, the pirates were putting up a fierce
resistance. Jeremy, panting from his encounter, cast about for a weapon
and soon found a cutlass, with which he armed himself. He turned toward
the mainmast foot once more, and to his joy discovered that his shot had
taken effect. The mulatto had disappeared under the trampling mass of
fighting men, and Job's tall figure still towered by the mast. It took
the lad only a second, however, to realize that his Captain's plight was
serious. The big Yankee was fighting wearily with a broken cutlass, and
his face was gray beneath the red stream of blood that ran from a wound
above his eye. Jeremy plunged into the ruck of the battle, careless now
of danger. A sort of berserk rage possessed him at the sight of that
wound. He hewed his way frantically toward the mast, and suddenly found
Bob there beside him, cutting and lunging like a demon. He gasped out a
cheer. But even as it left his throat, the Captain's arm flew up
convulsively, then dropped out of sight in the mob.

"Job's down!" cried Bob wildly, but the New England boy's only reply was
a half-choked sob.

Now the tables were turned of a sudden, for three stout sea-dogs from
the _Tiger_, finishing their first opponents, dashed into the fray with
a yell, and