reatest
peril which we have ever experienced. We must hold by each other. I have
decided to approach the enemy with all sail set, receiving and returning
his fire. If he dismasts us, we will try to escape to land; if that
fails, we will grapple the enemy and blow both ships into the air."

"Very well," muttered the old pirate, clenching his pipe between his
teeth.

"One thing more, Moody. If I should fall, throw my body into the sea. I
want to rest on the bottom of the ocean."

The pirate bent his head and growled: "Very well."

Then each man went to his post. Barthelemy drew his sword and, raising
his head proudly, cried: "Raise the anchors."

The order was obeyed, the wind filled the sails, and the two ships, with
their flags fluttering in the breeze, rapidly approached each other.

On arriving within a certain distance, both turned suddenly. The Swallow
fired first, sixty guns thundering at the same instant. The Royal
Fortune reserving her fire, did not lose a single sail, and only three
of her men fell.

"Up and at them!" shouted Barthelemy, "the advantage is ours"; and as he
spoke his forty guns returned the volley of the Swallow, which rocked
heavily under the shock.

Just at that moment the report of a pistol echoed from the Swallow's
deck and Barthelemy sank lifeless on a cannon. The bullet had pierced
his heart.

The man at the helm, Stephenson, saw him fall and, not perceiving the
wound, shouted:

"Don't lie down, captain, but look the danger boldly in the face and
fight as beseems a man."

Even as he spoke a jet of blood gushed from Barthelemy's breast.

Stephenson, seeing it, leaped from his post in despair, leaving his
place at the helm, and throwing himself on Barthelemy's body shouted,
sobbing aloud: "He is dead!"

The cry fairly paralyzed the pirates just at the critical moment;
nameless terror filled their hearts, and all rushed to their captain's
corpse.

Moody thrust them aside right and left till he reached the body, and
hastily seizing it, he threw it over the bulwark into the sea.

With Barthelemy, the moving spirit of the pirates fled. Throwing down
their weapons, they surrendered. No man knew exactly what he was doing;
they sank like a headless body.

Scudamore was the only one who thought of anything. He recognized Rolls
on the other ship and, seizing a lighted slow-match, rushed to the
powder magazine, but met Henry Glasby standing with a drawn sword at the
door.

"What