g Ayrton by the
waistband.

But Ayrton, without replying, wrenched himself from his grasp and
attempted to rush into the magazine. A shot fired into the midst of the
powder-casks, and all would be over!

"Help, lads!" shouted Bob Harvey.

At his shout two or three pirates awoke, jumped up, and, rushing on
Ayrton, endeavored to throw him down. He soon extricated himself from
their grasp. He fired his revolver, and two of the convicts fell, but
a blow from a knife which he could not ward off made a gash in his
shoulder.

Ayrton perceived that he could no longer hope to carry out his project.
Bob Harvey had reclosed the door of the powder-magazine, and a movement
on the deck indicated a general awakening of the pirates. Ayrton must
reserve himself to fight at the side of Cyrus Harding. There was nothing
for him but flight!

But was flight still possible? It was doubtful, yet Ayrton resolved to
dare everything in order to rejoin his companions.

Four barrels of the revolver were still undischarged. Two were
fired--one, aimed at Bob Harvey, did not wound him, or at any rate
only slightly, and Ayrton, profiting by the momentary retreat of his
adversaries, rushed towards the companion-ladder to gain the deck.
Passing before the lantern, he smashed it with a blow from the butt of
his revolver. A profound darkness ensued, which favored his flight. Two
or three pirates, awakened by the noise, were descending the ladder at
the same moment.

A fifth shot from Ayrton laid one low, and the others drew back, not
understanding what was going on. Ayrton was on deck in two bounds, and
three seconds later, having discharged his last barrel in the face of
a pirate who was about to seize him by the throat, he leaped over the
bulwarks into the sea.

Ayrton had not made six strokes before shots were splashing around him
like hail.

What were Pencroft's feelings, sheltered under a rock on the islet! What
were those of Harding, the reporter, Herbert, and Neb, crouched in the
Chimneys, when they heard the reports on board the brig! They rushed out
on to the beach, and, their guns shouldered, they stood ready to repel
any attack.

They had no doubt about it themselves! Ayrton, surprised by the pirates,
had been murdered, and, perhaps, the wretches would profit by the night
to make a descent on the island!

Half an hour was passed in terrible anxiety. The firing had ceased, and
yet neither Ayrton nor Pencroft had reappeared. Was th