He had asked a foolish question. As a matter of course the pirates would fly at small game.
Of what benefit would it be to them to attack ocean going steamers like those of the Orient Line, or the splendid Peninsular and Oriental?
The P. and O. boats could laugh at a pirate unless he came ironclad.
Harry ordered a boat to be lowered. It was rowed by two men. Kardofan was with it.
The sea being delightfully calm and restful, there was no difficulty in making the derelict.
They climbed on board.
Blood stained the deck in every direction. It splashed the masts; it was everywhere.
One of the two men lived—let us say breathed, for it was not much more.
He had a wound in his throat from a kreese, which is a worse weapon to be struck with than a machete.
“What has happened to you, my poor fellow?” inquired Harry, kindly.