"'Hold hard, Cap'n!' cried the old bo's'n, 'p'r'aps you'll tell us
what all this pirating WAS for, if it wa'n't for money.'

"'It was for the joy of pirating, you old rascal, as you ought to
know. It was for the pure love of the thing. And to think that all
these years I have been leading a base gang of money-getters!'

"And he grabbed another couple of pistols out of his boots, and
began firing once more. At this, the pirates lost their patience.
They gave a deep roar, like a herd of angry buffalo, and closed in
on their Captain. He jumped back, and continued to fire. They
swarmed around him, and in a few minutes that group of pirates,
who had always lived together like brothers, had changed into a
blood-thirsty mob. Knives flashed and pistols cracked. Some of
them hit each other in their excitement, and that made them so
angry that they turned and fought amongst themselves. In the
meantime, the Captain was firing his pistols and slashing with his
cutlasses, and making terrible havoc amongst his followers. In ten
minutes all was over. Of that proud band of pirates, once the
terror of the Spanish Main, only two men were left alive. These
were Black Pedro himself, slightly wounded in the leg, but still
able to walk, and old Aaron Halyard, the bo's'n. Aaron was running
at top speed toward the beach, trying to get to a small boat. A
little way behind him came the Captain.

"'Don't you tech me! don't you tech me!' screamed old Halyard.

"Black Pedro stopped and took careful aim, with the last of his
fourteen pistols. He pulled the trigger, but there was no report.
Something had gone wrong with the priming. The bo's'n reached the