He knew the British Consulate, and guns were laid, and, indeed, for every white block of building it was possible to distinguish, with the exception of the palace itself.
His desire was to show the Sultan that so long as he remained there he was safe.
Zanzibar's guns, however, took much longer to silence than Abdularram could have credited; and when the sun once more rose over the sea, the shells from the fort being now better planted, he considered it prudent to take up a position farther away, where he knew his vessel would be safe.
This Arab Viking, if the truth must be told, was more at home in a sailing fighting dhow than in a ship of war.
He had, nevertheless, performed one of the most wonderful feats of modern times, namely, the boarding and carrying by cutlass and revolver of a great and mighty battle-ship.
After a time there was a lull in the firing from both sides.
Abdularram felt himself sure of that city. Zanzibar, he told his captain, was sure to fall, and its Sultan, to say nothing of the best part of his harem, would be in his power.
"And after that, your Highness?" the captain asked, with an evil glare in his eye.
"After that," replied Abdularram, "the looting and sacking of the city."
He smiled grimly as he thought of it. The cruelty of the pirates in days of old has hardly any parallel in the twentieth century, and I now ask myself, ere penning the concluding lines of this chapter, whether I should tell my young readers anything of the tragedy that now took place on board the conquered battleship. I shall do so in the simplest language I can command, and in the least graphic. And I do this much, because I know and feel that our British boys, who I trust will grow up good and brave defenders of their fatherland, may realize some of the horrors of naval warfare.