moment the grappling irons were thrown, Rolls made a sign, and the
thunder of the report of the sailors' arms followed; when the smoke
dispersed, the two vessels were already fast locked together, the fire
had killed several of the pirates; the others, pushing their comrades'
bodies aside, were trying to climb to the brigantine's deck. In an
instant the two crews were fighting man to man with sabres and knives.
One furiously attacked, the other coolly defended; neither feared wounds
or weapons.

The sailors fought bravely. Captain Rolls remained in his place, with
his eyes fixed on the pirate leader, who had already fired at him three
times without making his foe even turn his head.

"I'll see whether you are the devil or I!" Davis at last shouted
savagely. "Follow me, you scoundrels," and seizing his sabre between his
teeth, while swinging a huge hammer above his head with his right hand,
he sprang on the deck of the brigantine, felling two of her crew at the
same instant. The pirates, with deafening yells, rushed into the breach
thus made, and the terrified sailors began to yield, more alarmed by the
hideous face of the pirate leader than by the weight of his blows.

Rolls quietly drew a pistol from his belt. "You won't hit me!" yelled
Davis, gnashing his teeth and trying to startle the captain by rolling
his eye-balls hideously. The latter fired, and whoever was looking at
Davis at the moment saw a bloody star on his forehead where the bullet
entered. The pirate suddenly grasped the handle of his hammer with both
hands and sank lifeless.

Bewildered by the loss of their leader, the corsairs were on the point
of yielding their vantage ground, when one of their number shouted
triumphantly: "Hurrah, Barthelemy!" and at that moment a fierce yell
arose from the center of the brigantine. While the fight had been raging
on one side, six pirates in a boat had rowed around her and crept
noiselessly to her deck, which they reached just as their captain fell.
These men, too, turned to fly, but one of their number, a young, slender
fellow, with a bronzed face, thick curling locks, and sparkling eyes,
sprang behind Rolls, and, pinioning his arms, wrested his pistol from
his hold and forced him to his knees.

"Let no one stir or you are all dead men!" shouted the young pirate in
bold, ringing tones, and the sailors, disheartened by the capture of
their commander, laid down their arms before the savage forms thronging
on deck.