A murmur ran round among the people, to signify that we would obey the captain’s orders. The atrocities committed of late years by the Algerines, and the subjects of the Emperor of Morocco, had made those people the dread of all sea-going people, and gained them a proportionate amount of hatred.

Once more the sound of oars was heard, and in a short time even their splash in the water could be distinguished. There are few things more trying to a man’s nerves than to know that an enemy is approaching, and not to be able to discover his strength or form, or the quarter from whence he is coming. Our cutlasses were buckled on, our muskets were ready to be seized, and the slow matches were in our hands, but concealed, so that the enemy might not perceive them. Mr Gale stood with a torch ready to light at a moment’s notice. Slowly the boats approached. Apparently they seemed to think some caution necessary, or perhaps they could not see how we lay, and wished to attack us according to some preconcerted plan. There was a pause. I know that my heart beat pretty quick to learn what would follow. Then there was a dash towards us, and we could hear the sound even from the rowers’ chests as they strained at their oars. Dark forms were seen gliding out of the darkness. Suddenly the bright light of a torch burst forth on our deck. Mr Gale waved it above his head, and threw it towards the boats, its glare showing us swarthy features, and turbaned heads, and coloured vests, and jewelled arms. There could be no doubt as to the character of our midnight visitors.

“Fire!” shouted the captain; “fire! and aim low.”

Our guns, loaded with langrage, sent forth a deadly shower among the pirate crew. Shrieks and groans arose in return. We followed it up with a discharge of musketry. The enemy were completely taken by surprise. Many, abandoning their oars, ceased pulling towards us. This gave us time to reload our guns and small-arms. Their leaders, it seemed, were attempting to rally them. Once more we could distinguish their dark forms amid the gloom of night.

“Fire!” again shouted our captain.

The shrieks and groans were redoubled, and the boats again disappeared in the darkness. We remained at our quarters expecting their return. They did not come. A light breeze from the southward and westward at length sprung up, and we were able to shape our course towards the Rock of Gibraltar, and when the morning broke no sail was in sight.


Chapter Nine.

A Ship without a Crew.