"We have none that will swim, sir."

"Very well, bring to, and I will send mine."

We heard the splash of the jolly-boat touching the water; then the
measured stroke of the oars, and a voice calling out, "Give way, my
lads."

The character of the vessel we were on board of was now evident; and the
bitter reflection that we were, as it were, chained to the stake on
board of a pirate, on the eve of a fierce contest with one of our own
cruisers, was aggravated by the consideration that a whole boat's crew
would be sacrificed before a shot was fired.

The officer in the boat had no sooner sprung on board than he was caught
by two strong hands, gagged, and thrown down the main hatchway.

"Heave," cried a voice, "and with a will!" and four cold 32-pound shot
were hove at once into the boat alongside, which, crashing through her
bottom, swamped her in a moment, precipitating the miserable crew into
the boiling sea. Their shrieks rang in my ears as they clung to the oars
and some loose planks of the boat.

"Bring up the officer, and take out the gag," said Williamson.

Poor Malcolm, who had been an old messmate of mine, was now dragged to
the gangway, his face bleeding, and heavily ironed, when the blackamoor,
clapping a pistol to his head, bade him, as he feared instant death,
hail the cutter for another boat.