The hint was not taken. The ship at length came to the wind--we rounded
to, under her lee--and an armed boat, with Mr Treenail, and myself, and
sixteen men, with cutlasses, were sent on board.

We jumped on deck, and at the gangway, Mr Treenail stumbled, and fell over
the dead body of a man, no doubt the one who had hailed last, with his
scull cloven to the eyes, and a broken cutlass blade sticking in the gash.
We were immediately accosted by the mate, who was lashed down to a ringbolt
close by the bits, with his hands tied at the wrists by sharp cords, so
tightly that the blood was spouting from beneath his nails.

"We have been surprised by a privateer schooner, sir; the lieutenant of
her, and twelve men, are now in the cabin."

"Where are the rest of the crew?"

"All secured in the forecastle, except the second mate and boatswain, the
men who hailed you just now; the last was knocked on the head, and the
former was stabbed and thrown overboard."

We immediately released the men, eighteen in number, and armed them with
boarding pikes. "What vessel is that astern of us?" said Treenail to the
mate. Before he could answer, a shot from the brig fired at the privateer
showed she was broad awake. Next moment Captain Deadeye hailed. "Have you
mastered the prize crew, Mr Treenail?"--"Aye, aye, sir."--"Then keep your
course, and keep two lights hoisted at your mizzen peak during the night,
and blue Peter at the main topsail yardarm when the day breaks; I shall
haul my wind after the suspicious sail in your wake."