The commander of the merchantman himself was stretched lifeless on the deck. He had rushed on the captain of the pirates as soon as the latter had gained the deck, and wielding with both hands a ponderous sword, made such a blow at him as would have cut him through; but by a slight movement the intended victim escaped the stroke, and before the commander could recover from the impetus of his own blow, the captain pierced him to the heart with his poniard. Without a groan he fell dead.
As soon as the ship was captured, the captain issued his orders to his men, that their wounded companions should be properly attended to; and the boat which, although it had been swamped, on account of its lightness, had not sunk, should be secured.
These commands were immediately attended to. The pirates forthwith picked up their disabled companions, that still clung to the wrecks of the first boat: or those who, as yet, grasped, in a desperate effort for life, the lower riggings of the ship of which they had laid hold in their fall from the bulwarks or the deck.
The hatches were raised, and they began to examine the cargo. The captain himself, with two sturdy sailors after him, descended the steps that led to the cabin.
Here were three persons apparently overcome with terror. A man of about middle age leant on the panelling of the cabin, with a long musket, surmounted with a rusty bayonet, in his hands, which trembled so much from extreme fear that they were utterly unable to raise the weapon which they sustained. On the floor lay a young lady in a swoon, while over her bent an aged priest, anxiously awaiting the appearance of returning animation.
“Mercy, mercy on us!” cried the first individual, as the captain entered the cabin; “take our money; I have gold there; yes, there is gold in my cabin: but, for God’s sake, spare our lives: for the sake of my children and my family, spare an aged man, whose blood can avail you nothing,” and the suppliant fell on his knees, still grasping the unavailing musket.
“Get up, man: kneel not to me,” said the captain, indifferently. The voice struck the prostrate man like an electric shock; with a sudden start he raised his head, and gazed at the man before him.
“What voice was that?” he cried, and passed his trembling hands over his brow; and like him who labours, by one violent and forcible effort of the mind, to recall a thousand widely distant events; or like him on whom dawns the recollection of some long-passed, but horrible deed, he remained fixed to the spot, with staring eyes and fallen jaws. Again and again, he passed his hands over his brow,—“it was her voice!—what do I hear?—what do I see?—No, it cannot be—yet so like her:—no—yes—yes;—it is—my son.” He started, like one in frenzy, from the cabin floor, and rushed on the pirate chief. The latter drew back.
“Keep away,” he said: “I am, indeed, your son!—secure that man,” turning to his men; and, while giving them this order, passed to the upper part of the cabin, at the same time casting a look of the bitterest scorn on him who had recognised him as his son.