Slaves captured at various times by the scoundrels who infest those seas, are sometimes made to work at the oars—which are much used during calm weather—until they die, or become so worn out as to be useless, when they are mercilessly thrown overboard. That the slaves referred to on this occasion, animated probably by despair, had effected their release, and plucked up heart to assault the armed guard, was a matter of some surprise to the pirates: not so, however, to our adventurers, when they saw, foremost among the mutineers, a man clad in the garb of a European sailor.
“That’s the boy as has put ’em up to it,” said Jim Slagg, in a suppressed but eager voice, “they’d never have had the pluck to do it of themselves.”
“We’d better go an’ help ’em,” said Stumps, whose usually stupid face was lighted up with excitement.
“Right, lad,” exclaimed Slagg, starting up; but Sam laid his hand firmly on his arm.
“Too late,” he said; “don’t you see that the guard have prevailed. Besides, the pirate crew are in their boats—almost at the vessel. See, they swarm up the side.”
“Poor, poor sailor!” said Robin Wright, in a voice of the deepest pity.
“You may well say that; no doubt he is killed by this time,” said Slagg; “but no—he is fightin’ still!”
This was indeed true. Some of the slaves, rendered desperate no doubt, were still maintaining the hopeless fight with handspikes and such arms as they had succeeded in wresting from the guard at the first onset, and the stalwart figure of the European sailor was seen swaying aloft a clubbed musket and felling a pirate at every blow. Animated by his example, the other slaves fought with resolute bravery, but when the rest of the pirate crew joined the guard and surrounded them, they were instantly overpowered. Then those who had not been already slain were led hastily to the side, a sword was drawn across their throats, or thrust through them, and the bodies were tossed into the sea. Among those led thus to the side was the brave sailor. Although his features could not be distinguished at such a distance by those in ambush, it could be clearly seen that he came boldly forward, resolved, no doubt, to meet his fate like a man.
“Oh, God, spare him!” burst in a voice of agony from Robin, who sprang up as if with the intention of rushing to the rescue, regardless of consequences, but a second time Sam Shipton’s restraining hand was ready.
“What could we do, with the sea between us and the ship? Even if we were on the deck could we four deliver him from a hundred?”