"We have had a horrible night," Gerald remarked, "but we may think ourselves fortunate indeed," and he pointed to the south, where the land was plainly visible at a distance of nine or ten miles. "If the gale had continued to blow until now we should have been on sh.o.r.e long before this."

"We are too near to be pleasant," Geoffrey said, "for they can see us as plainly as we can see the land. It is to be hoped that a breeze may spring up from the south before long and enable us to creep off the land. Unless I am greatly mistaken I can see the masts of some craft or other in a line with those white houses over there."

"I don't see them," Gerald replied, gazing intently in the direction in which Geoffrey pointed.

"Let us go up to the top, Gerald; we shall see her hull from there plainly enough."

On reaching the top Gerald saw at once that his friend's eyes had not deceived him.

"Yes, there is a vessel there sure enough, Geoffrey. I cannot see whether she has one or two masts, for her head is in this direction."

"That is not the worst of it," Geoffrey said, shading his eyes and gazing intently on the distant object. "She is rowing; I can see the light flash on her oars every stroke. That is a Moorish galley, and she is coming out towards us."

"I believe you are right," Gerald replied after gazing earnestly for some time. "Yes, I saw the flash of the oars then distinctly."

They at once descended to the deck and informed the captain of what they had seen. He hastily mounted to the top.

"There is no mistake about it," he said after looking intently for a short time; "it is one of the Barbary corsairs, and she is making out towards us. The holy saints preserve us from these bloodthirsty infidels."

"The saints will do their work if we do ours," Gerald remarked; "and we had best do as large a share as possible. What is the number of your crew, captain?"

"Nineteen men altogether."

"And there are thirty soldiers, and six male pa.s.sengers in the cabin,"

Gerald said; "so we muster fifty-four. That ought to be enough to beat off the corsair."

On returning to the deck the captain informed the officer in charge of the troops on board that a Moorish pirate was putting off towards them, and that unless the wind came to their aid there was no chance of escaping a conflict with her.

"Then we must fight her, captain," the officer, who was still a youth, said cheerfully. "I have thirty men, of whom at least half are veterans. You have four cannon on board, and there are the crew and pa.s.sengers."

"Fifty-four in all," Gerald said. "We ought to be able to make a good fight of it."

Orders were at once given, soldiers and crew were mustered and informed of the approaching danger.

"We have got to fight, men, and to fight hard," the young officer said; "for if we are beaten you know the result--either our throats will be cut or we shall have to row in their galleys for the rest of our lives.

So there is not much choice."

In an hour the corsair was half-way between the coast and the vessel.

By this time every preparation had been made for her reception. Arms had been distributed among the crew and such of the pa.s.sengers as were not already provided, the guns had been cast loose and ammunition brought up, cauldrons of pitch were ranged along the bulwarks and fires lighted on slabs of stone placed beneath them. The coppers in the galley were already boiling.

"Now, captain," the young officer said, "do you and your sailors work the guns and ladle out the pitch and boiling water, and be in readiness to catch up their pikes and axes and aid in the defence if the villains gain a footing on the deck. I and my men and the pa.s.sengers will do our best to keep them from climbing up."

The vessel was provided with sweeps, and the captain had in the first place proposed to man them; but Gerald pointed out that the corsair would row three feet to their one, and that it was important that all should be fresh and vigorous when the pirates came alongside. The idea had consequently been abandoned, and the vessel lay motionless in the water while the corsair was approaching.

Inez, who felt better now that the motion had subsided, came on deck as the preparations were being made. Gerald told her of the danger that was approaching. She turned pale.

"This is dreadful, Gerald. I would rather face death a thousand times than be captured by the Moors."

"We shall beat them off, dear, never fear. They will not reckon upon the soldiers we have on board, and will expect an easy prize. I do not suppose that, apart from the galley-slaves, they have more men on board than we have, and fighting as we do for liberty, each of us ought to be equal to a couple of these Moorish dogs. When the conflict begins you must go below."

"I shall not do that," Inez said firmly. "We will share the same fate whatever it may be, Gerald; and remember that whatever happens I will not live to be carried captive among them. I will stab myself to the heart if I see that all is lost."

"You shall come on deck if you will, Inez, when they get close alongside. I do not suppose there will be many shots fired--they will be in too great a hurry to board; but as long as they are shooting you must keep below. After that come up if you will. It would make a coward of me did I know that a chance shot might strike you."

"Very well, then, Gerald, to please you I will go down until they come alongside, then come what will I shall be on deck."

As the general opinion on board was that the corsairs would not greatly outnumber them, while they would be at a great disadvantage from the lowness of their vessel in the water, there was a general feeling of confidence, and the approach of the enemy was watched with calmness.

When half a mile distant two puffs of smoke burst out from the corsair's bows. A moment later a shot struck the ship, and another threw up the water close to her stern. The four guns of the _Tarifa_ had been brought over to the side on which the enemy was approaching, and these were now discharged. One of the shots carried away some oars on the starboard side of the galley, another struck her in the bow.

There was a slight confusion on board; two or three oars were shifted over from the port to the starboard side, and she continued her way.

The guns were loaded again, bags of bullets being this time inserted instead of b.a.l.l.s. The corsairs fired once more, but their shots were unanswered; and with wild yells and shouts they approached the motionless Spanish vessel.

"She is crowded with men," Gerald remarked to Geoffrey. "She has far more on board than we reckoned on."

"We have not given them a close volley yet," Geoffrey replied. "If the guns are well aimed they will make matters equal."

[Ill.u.s.tration: GEOFFREY FALLS INTO THE HANDS OF THE CORSAIRS]

The corsair was little more than her own length away when the captain gave the order, and the four guns poured their contents upon her crowded decks. The effect was terrible. The ma.s.s of men gathered in her bow in readiness to board as soon as she touched the _Tarifa_ were literally swept away. Another half minute she was alongside the Spaniard, and the Moors with wild shouts of vengeance tried to clamber on board.

But they had not reckoned upon meeting with more than the ordinary crew of a merchant ship. The soldiers discharged their arquebuses, and then with pike and sword opposed an impenetrable barrier to the a.s.sailants, while the sailors from behind ladled over the boiling pitch and water through intervals purposely left in the line of the defenders. The conflict lasted but a few minutes. Well-nigh half the Moors had been swept away by the discharge of the cannon, and the rest, but little superior in numbers to the Spaniards, were not long before they lost heart, their efforts relaxed, and shouts arose to the galley-slaves to row astern.

"Now, it is our turn!" the young officer cried. "Follow me, my men; we will teach the dogs a lesson." As he spoke he sprang from the bulwark down upon the deck of the corsair.

Geoffrey, who was standing next to him, followed his example, as did five or six soldiers. They were instantly engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with the Moors. In the din and confusion they heard not the shouts of their comrades. After a minute's fierce fighting, Geoffrey, finding that he and his companions were being pressed back, glanced round to see why support did not arrive, and saw that there were already thirty feet of water between the two vessels. He was about to spring overboard, when the Moors made a desperate rush, his guard was beaten down, a blow from a Moorish scimitar fell on his head, and he lost consciousness.

It was a long time before he recovered. The first sound he was aware of was the creaking of the oars. He lay dreamily listening to this, and wondering what it meant, until the truth suddenly flashed across him.

He opened his eyes and looked round. A heavy weight lay across his legs, and he saw the young Spanish officer lying dead there. Several other Spaniards lay close by, while the deck was strewn with the corpses of the Moors. He understood at once what had happened. The vessels had drifted apart just as he sprang on board, cutting off those who had boarded the corsair from all a.s.sistance from their friends, and as soon as they had been overpowered the galley had started on her return to the port from which she had come out.

"At any rate," he said to himself, "Gerald and Inez are safe; that is a comfort, whatever comes of it."

It was not until the corsair dropped anchor near the sh.o.r.e that the dispirited Moors paid any attention to those by whom their deck was c.u.mbered. Then the Spaniards were first examined. Four, who were dead, were at once tossed overboard. Geoffrey and two others who showed signs of life were left for the present, a bucket of water being thrown over each to revive them. The Moorish wounded and the dead were then lowered into boats and taken on sh.o.r.e for care or burial. Then Geoffrey and the two Spaniards were ordered to rise.

All three were able to do so with some difficulty, and were rowed ash.o.r.e. They were received when they landed by the curses and execrations of the people of the little town, who would have torn them to pieces had not their captors marched them to the prison occupied by the galley-slaves when on sh.o.r.e, and left them there. Most of the galley-slaves were far too exhausted by their long row, and too indifferent to aught but their own sufferings, to pay any attention to the new-comers. Two or three, however, came up to them and offered to a.s.sist in bandaging their wounds. Their doublets had already been taken by their captors; but they now tore strips off their shirts, and with these staunched the bleeding of their wounds.

"It was lucky for you that five or six of our number were killed by that discharge of grape you gave us," one of them said, "or they would have thrown you overboard at once. Although, after all, death is almost preferable to such a life as ours."

"How long have you been here?" Geoffrey asked.

"I hardly know," the other replied; "one almost loses count of time here. But it is somewhere about ten years. I am st.u.r.dy, you see. Three years at most is the average of our life in the galleys, though there are plenty die before as many months have pa.s.sed. I come of a hardy race. I am not a Spaniard. I was captured in an attack on a town in the West Indies, and had three years on board one of your galleys at Cadiz.

Then she was captured by the Moors, and here I have been ever since."

"Then you must be an Englishman!" Geoffrey exclaimed in that language.

The man stared at him stupidly for a minute, and then burst into tears.

"I have never thought to hear my own tongue again, lad," he said, holding out his hand. "Aye, I am English, and was one of Hawkins' men.

But how come you to be in a Spanish ship? I have heard our masters say, when talking together, that there is war now between the English and Spaniards; that is, war at home. There has always been war out on the Spanish Main, but they know nothing of that."