oked again I could see nothing of them.
I had now to examine the vessel below. I went aft into the cabin.
There also had been a desperate struggle. The master apparently had
been surprised in his cot, and lay half out of it, stabbed to the heart.
Several passengers had sprung out of their berths, it seemed, and been
shot or stabbed before they could reach the door of the cabin. The
mate, I judged, and two other men, lay in a pool of blood just inside
the door. They had retreated there, fighting for their lives. The
table and chairs were upset and broken. One of the pirates had fallen,
and so hurried had been the retreat of his companions that they had been
unable to carry him off. He still breathed when I threw the light of
the lantern on his face, but the moment he was moved he fell back and,
with a deep groan, died. I marched through the whole of the vessel; not
a living soul was found on board. On returning on deck, I again looked
out for the pirate--not that I had much hopes of seeing her. All
appeared dark to leeward, the Charon's stern lanterns only being visible
just ahead of me. As I was peering into the gloom, suddenly a bright
light burst forth, as it seemed, out of the ocean. Up it rose,
increasing in size, a vast mass of flame into the air. I could
distinguish, with the greatest clearness, the masts and spars and canvas
of a schooner, lifting upwards high above the surface of the dark sea.
Then they seemed to separate into a thousand fragments, and to fall down
in showers of sparks on every side. For a moment I was in doubt whether
what I saw was a reality or some hallucination of the mind, such as the
imagination of a sleeper conjures up, but from the exclamations I heard
around me I was soon convinced that the pirate crew who had effected all
the mischief we had witnessed had met with a sudden and just retribution
for their crimes, and that they and their vessel had been blown up.

The next morning a midshipman and ten men were sent to relieve me, and
to take charge of the barque, which proved to be a vessel bound for
Bristol. Sad was the tale she would have to convey to the wives and
families of her officers and crew. On the 20th a signal of distress was
seen flying on board one of our convoy. A couple of boats were manned,
and I pulled away to her assistance. As we got near we saw the crew
waving to us, some in the rigging, and some leaning over the sides. Her
boats, I concluded, had be