"Whereat he came at us again, and laid himself alongside us, we not being able to move by this time, owing to our having lost all our masts, and being so encumbered with wreckage that we could do nothing. About a hundred fierce and bloodthirsty ruffians swarmed aboard us and began to cut us down and drive us toward the fore-part of the ship, while we, on our side, fought bravely enough with what weapons we could lay our hands on. But at last our gallant captain fell dead, cut down by the scimitar of a gigantic blackamoor, and the rest of us--very few by that time, I can assure you,--seeing this, threw down our arms and surrendered to the corsairs. There were then but seventeen of us left, all told, and not one of us but had his wound to show as the result of the fight. Five out of that seventeen, indeed, were so badly wounded that they died of their hurts before the corsair reached her port, leaving only twelve of us, all Englishmen, to be sent into slavery. After the corsairs had removed us to their own ship, they stripped the _Delight_ of all that she carried, transferring all her cargo to their own hold. They were greatly pleased at the result of their day's work--for they had made a good haul--and made all haste to return to their port, which was Tunis. But before bearing up they set fire to our ship, and when we last saw the _Delight_ she was blazing merrily. I make no doubt that she sank shortly afterwards, leaving no trace behind." "You'm wrong there, mate," broke in Jake Irwin. "Don't you mind that it rained heavily soon afterwards? Well, the rain put out the fire, and an English ship comin' up found her still smoulderin', with enough of her left to show that she was the _Delight_. She brought the news of the loss of the _Delight_ into Plymouth--I remember hearin' all about it,-- and it was thought she had took fire in the ordinary way, and that her crew, havin' gone off in the boats, was a'terwards lost. No one ever gave a thought to pirates or corsairs."