The big Welshman, Jones, had just swung into the press about him as we came up, and Hawkson had a breathing spell for a few moments. The old privateersman saw me behind him in the doorway, and the ghost of his old smile wrinkled the corners of his ugly mouth. He was covered with blood, and growing weak from exertion, but he held out a long, sinewy hand, and I grasped it. He said nothing, but looked at the surging crowd that was pressing closer and closer against the struggling Welshman and Howard. Henry clung to the companion coaming with one hand, and closed the gap between them. The black mass swung back toward us, and instantly we were fighting desperately to hold them in check.

A pile of black bodies in front impeded their movement, but they pressed us so close that we were jammed shoulder to shoulder, with Jones slightly in advance to the right, and the old captain 297in front. Gull ducked below my arm, and stabbed viciously upward at the Africans who came on.

There had been a short pause, caused by Jones’s fierce fight, but, as he gradually slackened his efforts, and the men behind pressed forward, the gap began closing up. It would soon be over.

A huge black fellow reached out and grasped Captain Howard. The old pirate ran him through the body with marvellous quickness, but, before he could disengage his weapon, several more seized him and jerked him away from us. He disappeared in the blackness, and we saw him no more. He had gone to his account without a word, fighting desperately to the last, and with him went the last hope we had left.

Hawkson was tiring. A couple of men seized me and started to drag me out, but the old privateersman made a last desperate rally, and I tore myself free from dying clutches. But the fight could not last for ever. A black giant, who wore a gee-string, smote Hawkson’s blade a terrific blow with a windlass-brake, knocking it out of his hand. Instantly several seized him, and, though I cut and stabbed frantically, they managed to pull him away, to be served as had been the others who had fallen into their hands.

Suddenly, while I cut wildly at the forms in front, some one pulled me backwards. I expected to find 298myself in the hands of the black tigers, thirsting for blood and revenge, and was about to make one last sweep, but my arm was seized, and I was pulled down the companionway, while Jones slammed the doors together and bolted them. The big sailor and myself were all the men left on deck of our after-guard, and he had pulled me back just in time. The door would stand a few minutes against the assault. Gull and Henry had both gone, the little ferret-faced fellow fastening his great fingers firmly in the throat of a man who drew him to his death. There was now no hope but to delay the inevitable for as many minutes as possible.

Jones and I had a short breathing spell, while bars and handspikes crashed through the heavy door panels. We took down several of the muskets from the racks, and, placing their muzzles against the rents in the wood, fired them one after the other, with the result of abating the zeal of the fellows who stood close against the other side. The room filled with the dense powder smoke, and the light from the swinging cabin lamps barely lit up the gloom enough to distinguish objects. Ernest, who had been left half-dead upon the cabin floor, now aroused himself enough to stagger to his feet.

“The lazarette,” he gasped; “it’s our only chance. Bring some muskets and ammunition. We can make a stand there.”

299Grasping an armful of the discharged weapons, I led the way through a small door in the after-bulkhead, as heavy blows crashed upon the door of the forward cabin. Jones followed with an armful of cartridges and a priming-flask, Ernest leaning heavily upon him. Then I hesitated.

“Put out the light. Let ’em think we’re waitin’ in the dark,” said the big sailor.

I turned back and took the lamp out of the bracket. It would serve to light the black hole we were entering, for Hicks had taken no lantern with him, being hardly able to walk, with weakness from wounds and exertion.

Jones went ahead with Ernest, and I looked quickly about the cabin for some means of preventing entrance through the small, low door into the stern of the boat. Nothing appeared handy, and I turned to follow.

At that same instant the attack upon the companion was resumed and the doors crashed in, letting several black forms come plunging down the steps.

There was no time to lose, so, quickly entering the hole, I closed it and set the lamp close by on the deck, where its dim rays would light the entrance when the door would be burst in. The bulkhead was not very thick, and it would take very few minutes to smash the small door, but, as the passage 300was only about three feet wide, two able men with muskets and cutlasses could make it good from the inside, for no matter what the press beyond, the Africans would have to come in twos and threes through the opening. They would not think to cut a new way through, and, as long as they came in front, we could pile them up as fast as they could pull the dead and disabled away.

Jones had disappeared into the blackness farther aft under the cockpit as I entered, but the sound of the yelling blacks entering the cabin brought him back to my side, and I motioned him............