"He is dead! His sword is broken. Let us avenge the old man!" they cried, with one voice. "Ha! here is the point of his weapon, that ne'er failed him before, sticking in the deck, and he hath been taken at vantage ere he could draw it out."
"He who hath done this for thee, old man, shall die by my hand!" said one of them, letting him fall again.
With one accord, their glances rested on Mark, and he was fiercely attacked by the one who had last spoken and another, while the remainder commenced breaking open chests in search of treasure. For a few seconds he defended himself with great skill and courage. But, being hard pressed, and twice severely wounded by his fierce opponents, he became faint with loss of blood; his head swam; his eyes became dim; he grew bewildered, and struck at random. His assailants saw their advantage, and one of them made a final lunge at his breast to transfix him. But, ere the blow could take effect, he sunk sideways to the floor, and falling behind the hangings, the blade buried itself within the door of the cabin.
"Curses light on the foul steel! Finish him, Renard."
"He is done for," said the other, sheathing his blade through the curtain.
"Now for the woman! His mistress, I dare say, he fought so like a lion. I will try and console her for his loss," he added, with a laugh.
The fall of its brave defender left the way undisputed to the inner cabin. With united efforts, they forced open the slightly-secured leaves of the door. Grace stood before them in an attitude of sublime self-sacrificing, her eyes raised heavenward full of hope and faith, while the uplifted dagger was in the act of descending into her bosom. The foremost pirate instantly comprehended her purpose. Quick as lightning, he leaped forward, and, with his cutlass, struck the weapon from her grasp as it was entering her bosom.
"By the Virgin! that was skilfully done, Renard!" said the other. "You have won her fairly."
"And he who would have her must win her from me," he continued, with dogged resolution, catching her as, with a shriek of hopeless despair and wretchedness unspeakable, she was falling to the deck.
"A sweet voice, but somewhat loud!" said the other, with a laugh. "Ho! what have we here? Another prize," he exclaimed, descrying the helpless maid. "Smaller game! but not the less welcome. Dead, for a guilder! No, she breathes! We are lucky, Renard. It will cost us some hard knocks to keep possession of our prizes."