“Come on, ye villains!” shouted the excited Bignall “Come, and perform the office with your own hands!”
The graceful ship, as if sensible herself to the taunts of her enemy, sprung nigher to the wind, and shot across the fore-foot of the “Dart,” delivering her fire, gun after gun, with deliberate and deadly accuracy, full into that defenceless portion of her Antagonist. A crush like that of meeting bodies followed and then fifty grim visages were seen entering the scene of carnage, armed with the deadly weapons of personal conflict. The shock of so close and so fatal a discharge had, for the moment, paralyzed the efforts of the assailed; but no sooner did Bignall, and his lieutenant, see the dark forms that issued from the smoke on their own decks, than, with voices that had not even then lost their authority each summoned a band of followers, backed by whom, they bravely dashed into the opposite gang-ways of their ship, to stay the torrent. The first encounter was fierce and fatal, both parties receding a little, to wait for succour and recover breath.”
“Come on, ye murderous thieves!” cried the dauntless veteran, who stood foremost in his own band, conspicuous by the locks of gray that floated around his naked head, “well do ye know that heaven is with the right!”
The grim freebooters in his front recoiled and opened; then came a sheet of flame, from the side of the “Dolphin,” through an empty port of her adversary bearing in its centre a hundred deadly missiles. The sword of Bignall was flourished furiously and wildly above his head, and his voice was still heard crying, till the sounds rattled in his throat,—
“Come on, ye knaves! come on!—Harry—Harry Ark! O God!—Hurrah!”
He fell like a log, and died the unwitting possessor of that very commission for which he had toiled throughout a life of hardship and danger. Until now Wilder had made good his quarter of the deck though pressed by a band as fierce and daring as his own; but, at this fearful crisis in the combat, a voice was heard in the melee, that thrilled on all his nerves, and seemed even to carry its fearful influence over the minds of his men.
“Make way there, make way!” it said, in tones clear, deep, and breathing with authority, “make way, and follow; no hand but mine shall lower that vaunting flag!”
“Stand to your faith, my men!” shouted Wilder in reply. Shouts, oaths, imprecations, and groans formed a fearful accompaniment of the rude encounter, which was, however, far too violent to continue long. Wilder saw, with agony, that numbers and impetuosity were sweeping his supporters from around him. Again and again he called them to the succour with his voice, or stimulated them to daring by his example.
Friend after friend fell at his feet, until he was driven to the utmost extremity of the deck. Here he again rallied a little band, against which several furious charges were made, in vain.
“Ha!” exclaimed a voice he well knew; “death to all traitors! Spit the spy, as you would a dog! Charge through them, my bullies; a halbert to the hero who shall reach his heart!”