by hereditary instinct in one who had never behold a faction fight, in
what ought to have been his native land.

The Genoese captain looked at him as a madman, and shouted in a
confused mixture of French and Italian to lay down his weapon.

'Quei cattivi--ces scelerats were armed to the teeth--would fire. All
lie flat on the deck.'

The gesture spoke for itself. With a fearful howl all the Italians
dropped flat; but neither Scotch nor Irish blood brooked to follow
their example, or perhaps fully perceived the urgency of the need, till
a volley of bullets were whistling about their ears, though happily
without injury, the mast and the rigging having protected them, for the
sail was riddled with holes, and the smoke dimmed their vision as the
report sounded in their ears. In another second the turbaned,
scimitared figures were leaping on board. The Genoese still lay flat
offering no resistance, but Lanty and Arthur stood on either side of
the ladder, and hurled back the two who first approached; but four or
five more rushed upon them, and they would have been instantly cut
down, had it not been for a shout from the Genoese, 'Franchi!
Franchi!' At that magic word, which was evidently understood, the
pirates only held the two youths tightly, vituperating them no doubt in
bad Arabic,--Lanty grinding his teeth with rage, though scarcely
feeling the pain of the two sabre cuts he had received, and pouring
forth a volley of exclamations, chiefly, however, directed against the
white-livered spalpeens of sailors, who had not lifted so much as a
hand to help him. Fortunately no one understood a word he said but
Arthur, who had military experience enough to know there was nothing
for it but to stand still in the grasp of his captor, a wiry-looking