“The fellow has got the lives of twenty cats,” growled the captain, as he turned to give directions to the steersman, which brought the gun-boat still closer to the enemy. The effect of a well-delivered volley at this shorter range was to cut the fastenings of the three prows, thus permitting them to separate.
This was precisely what was desired, the captain having resolved to run the pirates down one at a time, as he had done before. He would not board them, because their superior numbers and desperate ferocity would have insured a hand-to-hand conflict, which, even at the best, might have cost the lives of many of his men. The instant, therefore, that the prows were cut adrift, he gave the order to back astern. At the same moment Pungarin was heard to give an order to his men, which resulted in the oars being got out and manned by the surviving pirates and slaves, who rowed for the land as fast as possible. Their escape in this way, however, the captain knew to be impossible, for they were now fully twenty-five miles from shore. He therefore went about his work leisurely.
Backing a considerable distance, so as to enable his little war-horse to get up full-speed, he took careful aim as he charged.
It was interesting to watch the swart faces and glaring eyeballs of those on board the first prow, as the gun-boat bore down on them. Some glared from hate, others obviously from fear, and all seemed a little uncertain as to what was about to be done. This uncertainty was only dispelled when the prow was struck amidships, and, with a tremendous crash, cut clean in two. Simultaneous with the crash arose a yell of mingled anger and despair, as pirates and prisoners were all hurled into the sea.
Again the order was given to go astern. The steamer immediately backed out of the wreck. After gaining a sufficient distance the engines were reversed, and the little vessel bore down on another prow.
This one made violent efforts to evade the blow, but the captain had anticipated as much. His orders were sharp; his steersman was prompt. The cut-water did its duty nobly, and in a few seconds another pirate vessel was sent to the bottom.
The sea was now swarming with human beings in all directions, some clinging to any scrap of wreck they could lay hold of, some paddling about aimlessly and roaring for help, while others swam steadily in the direction of the land. These last were chiefly pirates, who had evidently made up their minds to escape or drown rather than be captured.
As it was evident that many of those struggling in the water would be drowned in a few minutes, the captain delayed his attack on the third prow, and ordered the boats to be lowered. This was done promptly, and many of the poor victims captured by the pirates were rescued and brought on board. A few of the pirates were also picked up. These had jumped overboard with their “creases” and other weapons in their hands, and were so vindictive as to show fight furiously in the water when the sailors attempted to save them. Many of the men suffered from this. Poor Rooney Machowl was among the number.
He pulled the bow-oar of his boat, and hauled it in on drawing near to any one, so as to be ready to catch the hand of the swimmer, or make a grasp at him. As they approached one of the swimmers, Rooney observed that he had a short twisted sword in his hand, and that he looked over his shoulder with a fierce scowl. Nevertheless, as he leaned over to the rescue, it did not occur to the worthy man that the swimmer meant mischief, until he saw the twisted sword leap from the water, and felt the point of his nose almost severed from his face!
“Och! You spalpeen,” cried Rooney, with a yell of intense indignation and pain.