Now through the drifting smoke I could distinguish the crew of the _Gannet_. There was Captain Poynings standing unmoved amid the crash and din of the fight, the master standing by the wheel, his head bound with a blood-stained scarf, several men, still in death, encumbering her decks, while amid the throng of excited fighters a continuous procession of wounded was winding its way towards the main hatch. Finally both vessels came within a few yards of each other, and I heard the order given: "Prepare to board!" The pirates had now abandoned their guns, and had begun to cluster for’ard, under the shelter of the bulwarks, each man armed with pistol and cutlass. They knew what the issue meant, and each man prepared to sell his life dearly. As the crash came, and the two ships were interlocked, the Gannets, headed by their gallant captain, poured over the hammock nettings and gained their enemy’s deck. Every inch was grimly contested, several of the _Gannets_ falling between the two vessels and meeting a miserable fate by being ground between the heaving sides. Captain Poynings singled out the scarred-faced lieutenant, and, being well ahead of his men, his position was for a time one of considerable danger. I watched the fight without fear of being made a mark by the pirates, who were too hard pressed to heed me. The sight held me spellbound, till I observed one of the pirates covering our captain with a musket. The man waited, with finger on trigger, till the position of the combatants would give him an opportunity to fire without injuring his leader. Seeing this, I grasped a loaded musket, and at fifteen yards’ distance put a ball through the villain’s head. Almost at the same time Captain Poynings ran his opponent through the arm, and the latter, jumping backwards, turned and ran towards the hatchway. Then came a cry, from which side I knew not: "The magazine! the magazine!" and immediately the captain shouted: "Back, men, for your lives!" There was a rush for the shelter of the _Gannet_, and, realizing the danger, I crept along the foot-rope of the foreyard, gained the foreyard of the _Gannet_, and thence made for her foretop. Once there I lost no time in descending to the deck, heartily thankful at treading the planks of a British man-o’-war once more, though my return in the confusion was unnoticed. The fighting was practically at an end, the _Gannet_ being busily engaged in trying to free herself from the pirate’s embrace, and keeping back the frenzied rushes of the doomed crew. When the last grappling was severed, the _Gannet_ swung slowly round, her flying jibboom still entangled in the pirate’s bowsprit shrouds. Suddenly there was a blinding flash, followed by an appalling roar--the desperate villain had fired the magazine. Luckily the _Friend of the Sea_ had by this time used nearly all her ammunition, so that the explosion, though disastrous to herself, did us very little damage.