on,
calling out to us with wild derisive cries, as if mocking at our efforts
to save those whom they had already butchered, a bright flame of fire
flashed out from the skylight hatch of the doomed ship, followed by the
sharp crack of a revolver; and at the same instant one of the half-naked
devils massed on the poop leaped into the air and then fell on his face
flat on the deck, uttering a yell of agony as he writhed his limbs in
the throes of death.

An exulting cheer broke from all of us in the _Star of the North_ on
seeing this, every man gripping his weapon tightly, and setting his
teeth hard, ready for action, as the two vessels sidled up nearer and
nearer.

Then if word were wanted to spur us on, the skipper gave that word with
a vengeance!

"By George! my lads, we're in time yet to save the child and our other
white comrades!" he cried out loudly, at the same time jumping into the
mizzen rigging, where he hung on the shrouds with one hand, while in the
other he held a cutlass which he had hastily clutched up, whirling it
round his lionlike old grey head. "See, men, they've retreated to the
cabin below, where they're fighting for their lives to the last. Tumble
up, my lads, and save them, like the British sailors that you are!
Boarders, away!"

As he said this, Mr Fosset, who was still on the bridge conning the old
barquey, having at once ported our helm, on the skipper holding up his
cutlass, taking this for a signal, we came broadside-on, slap against
the hull of the other ship with a jolt that shook her down to her very
kelson, rolling a lot of the darkies, who were grouped aft, off their
legs like so many ninepins. At the same moment, before the two craft
had time to glide apart, both having way upon them, old Masters forward,
and Parrell, the quartermaster, who was stationed in the waist of our
vessel, just under the break of the poop, hooked on grapnels, with
hawsers attached, to the weather rigging of the _Saint Pierre_; and ere
the skipper's rallying cry and our answering cheer had died away,
drowned by the voice of our escaping steam rushing up the funnels on the
engines coming to a stop, now that their duty for the nonce was done,
there we were moored hard and fast together, alongside the whilom
dreaded "ghost-ship!"

Then with another wild hurrah that made the ringbolts in the deck
jingle, and swamped the sound of the rushing steam and everything, the
men, closing up behind the skipper, who le