Our enemies were charmed as by a magic spell. Fidette softened their hearts—hearts steeled against all human emotions.
She appealed to another and very different passion than the desire for blood.
She stole murder from their hearts, and planted love there instead. Her charms seduced them, even as her beautiful hand was about to slay them.
It was well that it was so; for ’tis better that men die with forgiveness in their hearts.
Only for a moment did Fidette stand gazing down into the upturned faces of these pitiless assassins. I feared that her courage had failed her; but I was mistaken.
Still clinging to the standing rigging with her left hand, she took with her right hand from the little wicker basket four of the pretty yellow bombs, and, true to the mark, sent them hurtling toward the deck.
They landed simultaneously and quite near together in the centre of the human square.
The concussion that instantly followed shook every timber of the ship. It could not be described as an explosion, but as a white flash. Very little flame was seen, but the deck was cleared as if by magic. Pieces of wood and parts of human bodies were sent screaming through the air. The very oakum between the deck planks was converted into impalpable dust. The bulwarks were torn away on the starboard side, and all the invaders who stood there were brushed into the sea as with a broom.
On the port side, owing to the fact that the force of the explosion had been spent in the opposite direction, a few men escaped. Many of these were wounded, and several were suffering from shock.
Fidette had recaptured the ship!