The pirates rushed forward, probably not knowing that another armed man barred their passage. They were only a part of the crowd that had treacherously attacked the ship’s officers, and thinking that all resistance was now at an end they were making for the saloon and cabins with the object of looting.
Levelling his revolver, Raxworthy fired at the broad naked chest of the foremost pirate. At that distance it was almost impossible to miss, and the midshipman had won a trophy for pistol shooting, competed for by the junior officers of the fleet.
The pirate continued to advance, apparently uninjured. There certainly was no ugly wound in his chest that one would expect from a heavy bullet fired at a few yards’ distance.
Raxworthy fired again.
Even in the moment of extreme peril he tumbled to it. There was hardly any kick of his revolver as he fired.
“Surely I wasn’t such an idiot as to load with blank?” he thought.
He fired again.
The pirate was almost within hand’s reach. The blast from the muzzle of his revolver pitted his chest. Raxworthy had a distinct recollection of that.
Then his ideas grew distinctly misty.
Something heavy descended upon his head.