* * * * *

The fugitive was the Swallow, the formidable English man-of-war,
commanded by two of the bravest captains, David Oyle and--Rolls.

When Barthelemy had captured all the ships that had been sent against
him, the Swallow sailed out alone to seek and conquer him.

On reaching the harbor, they saw in the distance the pirate ships, which
were easily recognized, and wanted to attack them at once, but were
obliged first to sail around a large shoal known as the "French
Sand-bank," and the pirates, mistaking this circuit for flight, rushed
in pursuit.

The Swallow merely sailed far enough out to sea to lure the Fox-Hound to
a point where the cannonading could not be heard on land, and then
allowed herself to be overtaken.

Suddenly the pirates, with loud shouts, ran up the black flag and dashed
with the speed of an arrow toward the Swallow. Skyrme stood in the bow,
holding his grappling iron ready.

"Barthelemy and death!" roared the whole band.

At the same moment the cannon of the British ship, with a terrible
thunder, sent a devastating volley upon the deck of the Fox-Hound,
veiling her in a cloud of smoke.

As soon as it lifted, the pirates were seen standing as if dazed by the
thunderbolt which had fallen upon them. The deck was strewn with mangled
corpses, the black flag was shot from the mast. Skyrme alone had
retained his presence of mind.

"Forward, you knaves!" he roared furiously, "what are you staring at? Up
with the flag again, and throw your grappling irons."

The pirates quickly hauled up the flag, and Skyrme's stentorian voice
shouted: "Forward!"

A second volley thundered down upon them from the British cannon. The
flag fell a second time, and with it Skyrme, whose legs were torn off by
a cannon ball. The pirates lost their self-control, and rushing to the
man at the helm, forced him to turn and spread their sails for flight.

"Do not yield," roared Skyrme, clinging to the mast. "Shame and disgrace
upon you! Stick to the ship, and rush upon her decks. Die the death of
heroes!"

The pirates, with a last outburst of daring, began to urge the
Fox-Hound toward the Swallow, and had almost succeeded in reaching it
with their grappling irons, when a third volley echoed on the air. The
main-mast was shattered and fell with all the rigging, into the sea.

They were lost. They could fight no longer.

"Throw the flag into the water that it may not fall into the hands of