Barnaby was out in the middle of his cabin in a moment, and taking only
time enough to snatch down one of the pistols that hung at the head of
his berth, flung out into the great cabin, to find it as black as night,
the lantern slung there having been either blown out or dashed out into
darkness. The prodigiously dark space was full of uproar, the hubbub
and confusion pierced through and through by that keen sound of women's
voices screaming, one in the cabin and the other in the stateroom
beyond. Almost immediately Barnaby pitched headlong over two or three
struggling men scuffling together upon the deck, falling with a great
clatter and the loss of his pistol, which, however, he regained almost
immediately.

What all the uproar meant he could not tell, but he presently heard
Captain Manly's voice from somewhere suddenly calling out, "You bloody
pirate, would you choke me to death?" wherewith some notion of what had
happened came to him like a dash, and that they had been attacked in the
night by pirates.

Looking toward the companionway, he saw, outlined against the darkness
of the night without, the blacker form of a man's figure, standing still
and motionless as a statue in the midst of all this hubbub, and so by
some instinct he knew in a moment that that must be the master maker
of all this devil's brew. Therewith, still kneeling upon the deck, he
covered the bosom of that shadowy figure pointblank, as he thought, with
his pistol, and instantly pulled the trigger.

In the flash of red light, and in the instant stunning report of the
pistol shot, Barnaby saw, as stamped upon the blackness, a broad, flat
face with fishy eyes, a lean, bony forehead with what appeared to be
a great blotch of blood upon the side, a cocked hat trimmed with gold