k: he was
down--no; he was up again. He had a pistol in each hand; but there was
a stream of blood running down his naked ribs. Suddenly, the mouth of
a pistol was pointing straight at the lieutenant's head. He ducked
instinctively, striking upward with his cutlass as he did so. There
was a stunning, deafening report almost in his ear. He struck again
blindly with his cutlass. He saw the flash of a sword and flung up his
guard almost instinctively, meeting the crash of the descending blade.
Somebody shot from behind him, and at the same moment he saw some one
else strike the pirate. Blackbeard staggered again, and this time
there was a great gash upon his neck. Then one of Maynard's own men
tumbled headlong upon him. He fell with the man, but almost instantly
he had scrambled to his feet again, and as he did so he saw that the
pirate sloop had drifted a little away from them, and that their
grappling irons had evidently parted. His hand was smarting as though
struck with the lash of a whip. He looked around him; the pirate
captain was nowhere to be seen--yes, there he was, lying by the rail.
He raised himself upon his elbow, and the lieutenant saw that he was
trying to point a pistol at him, with an arm that wavered and swayed
blindly, the pistol nearly falling from his fingers. Suddenly his
other elbow gave way and he fell down upon his face. He tried to raise
himself--he fell down again. There was a report and a cloud of smoke,
and when it cleared away Blackbeard had staggered up again. He was a
terrible figure--his head nodding down upon his breast. Somebody shot
again, and then the swaying figure toppled and fell. It lay still for
a moment--then rolled over--then lay still again.

There was a loud splash of men jumping overboard, and then, almost
instantly, the cry of "Quarter! quarter!" The lieutenant ran to the
edge of the vessel. It was as he had thought: the grappling irons of
the pirate sloop had parted, and it had drifted away. The few pirates
who had been left aboard of the schooner had jumped overboard and were
now holding up their hands. "Quarter!" they cried. "Don't
shoot!--quarter!" And the fight was over.

The lieutenant looked down at his hand, and then he saw, for the first
time, that there was a great cutlass gash across the back of it, and
that his arm and shirt sleeve were wet with blood. He went aft,
holding the wrist of his wounded hand. The boatswain was still at the
wheel. "By zounds!" said th