ost villainous-looking ruffians they were. Many of
them were blacks, but there were several white men among them.

"Steady, my lads, now. Don't throw a shot away till they attack us,"
sang out Mr Evans. "Stand by to go about." Down went the helm. The
jib was shivering in the breeze. A loud shout arose from the canoes and
boats, and, making a dash at the schooner, many of the villains began
clambering up on each quarter. At that moment a violent gust coming
down between an opening in the trees struck the vessel. It was not a
moment to start sheet or tack. Every one, indeed, was engaged in the
desperate conflict with their assailants. Jack was rushing forward to
drive back some fellows who had just hooked on their canoe at the lee
fore-chains. The marines were thrusting away with their bayonets. A
huge mulatto had grasped Mr Evans by the throat, and several of the
seamen were grappling with their opponents. Over heeled the vessel.
Just as she was in midstream another gust, more furious than the first,
struck her. In an instant Jack felt that she had gone over not to rise
again. He scrambled up over the bulwarks into the weather-chains, where
he hung on while the rest of the combatants, English, pirates and
negroes, were precipitated into the rapidly running stream. Two or
three of the canoes were swamped. Some of the blacks swam to the other
canoes, and were picked up, but numbers of the combatants, grappling
with each other, went down in the dark whirling stream, their shouts,
cries, and struggles quieted only by the water which closed over their
heads. Jack climbed up to the bottom of the vessel and looked around.
His heart sank within him. Where were his late gallant comrades, Mr
Evans and the rest? Not one remained. The capsized schooner was
drifting rapidly down the stream.

Jack, however, found that he was not alone; but he would gladly have
dispensed with his companions. Two blacks had hung on by the
rudder-chains, and now, as they climbed up, they caught sight of him.
Their eyes flashed vindictively. They had their knives in their belts,
but no other weapons. He had retained his grasp on his cutlass, and he
had a pistol in his belt, but he feared that the priming must have got
wet. The blacks began to creep slowly towards him. They grinned
horribly, and were evidently intent on his destruction. Jack saw that
he had not the slightest prospect of escape, and must depend entirely on
his ow