their shirts of mail, and
their ready, fertile brains under their brazen helmets; and they marked
the dull rattle of the arrows against their metal shields with elation
and contempt. To deal death was the wish of their souls; to meet it
caused them no dread; for their glowing fancy painted an open Paradise
where beautiful women awaited them open-armed, and brimming goblets
promised to satisfy every desire.

Their keen ears heard their captain's whispered commands; when they
reached the ship's side, one caught hold of the sill of the cabin window,
their leader, as quick as thought, sprang on to his shoulders, and from
thence on to the deck, thrusting his lance through the body of a sailor
who tried to stop him with his axe. A second Arab was close at his heels;
two gleaming scimitars flashed in the sun, the shrill, guttural, savage
war-cry of the Moslems rent the air, and the captain fell, the first
victim to their blood-thirsty fury, with a deep cut across the face and
forehead; in a moment, however, a heavy spar sang through the air down on
the head of the Moslem leader and laid him low. The helmsman, the brother
of the fallen pilot, had wielded it with the might of the avenger.

A fearful din, increased by the shrieks and wailing of the nuns, now
filled the vessel. The second Arab dealt death on all sides with the
courage and strength of desperation, and three of his fellows managed to
climb up the boat's side; but the last man was pushed back into the
water. By this time two of the shipwrights and five sailors had fallen.
Rufinus was kneeling by the captain, who was crying feebly for help,
bleeding profusely, though not mortally wounded. Setnau had spoken with
much anxiety of his wife and children, and Rufinus, hoping to save his
life for their sakes, was binding up the wounds, which were wide and
deep, when suddenly a sabre stroke came down on the back of his head and
neck, and a dark stream of blood rushed forth. But he, too, was soon
avenged: the old shipwright hewed down his foe with his heavy axe. On the
eastern shore, meanwhile, the men charged to kill the Arabs' horses were
doing their work, so as to prevent any who might escape from returning to
Fostat, or riding forward to Doormat and reporting what had occurred.

On board silence now prevailed. All five Arabs were stretched on the
deck, and the insatiate boatmen were dealing a finishing stroke to those
who were only wounded. A sailor, who had taken refuge