ave
simply disappeared."

"But we are armed," replied Hughes, "and are double yonder schooner's
tonnage."

"I know nothing of her armament; no one does," replied the seaman. "The
vessels she has boarded, whose crews could tell, have, I repeat,
mysteriously disappeared from the face of the ocean. The captain of the
`Dawn' told that when off the island of Mayotte, away to the northward
here, a brig was in his company. The two sailed about equally. One
night pistol shots were heard, and when morning broke there was no brig,
but where she should have been a low, rakish-looking schooner was seen."

"But what had become of the other?" asked Hughes.

"The pirate had carried her, taken all that she wanted, and scuttled
her, making the hull serve as a coffin for her crew."

"And this you think is the fate the wretches in yonder craft reserve for
us?"

"No, I think that they are quite aware of the value of my cargo, which
consists of ivory, gold dust, and ostrich feathers. If they can get the
brig, they will doubtless fit her out as a sister scourge of the ocean,
selling her cargo."

"And the crew?" asked Hughes.

"Will walk the plank one and all. For the lady, such a fate would be
too great a mercy."

The captain's weather-beaten countenance looked pale and anxious; Hughes
covered his face with his hands, and his strong frame shook as he
thought of Isabel at that very moment quietly sleeping below. The
missionary was explaining the situation to the Portuguese.

"And now, gentlemen, your advice. But this I must premise. Yonder
piratical curs shall never have the brig. I have, several kegs of
powder aboard for trading purposes, and so sure as my name is Andrew
Weber, I blow her to pieces rather than she turns pirate."

The soldier dropped the hands which had shaded his face. He gazed long
and earnestly at the white sails of the wicked-looking craft, which was
now fast creeping up with them. His look was one of high determination
and courage.

"There can be but one way, Captain Weber. Haul your brig up to her
proper course, arm your crew, load your guns, and let us meet yonder
pirate. We cannot fly. Your powder will be a last resource."

"And you, gentlemen," inquired the captain, "are of the same advice?"

"There can be no other course," was the reply.

"Mr Lowe, send the crew aft, one and all."

"Ay, ay, sir," said the mate, cheerily.

The captain paced his quarter-deck moodily and in silence.