The pirate captain now seemed in his element, though he must have known his case to be desperate. Ordering his man to fire high, wishing to disable his opponent, he braced up his yards in the hopes of getting off to windward; but the hitherto slow sailing frigate showed that she had a quick pair of heels of her own, and was immediately after him. Jack was endeavouring to get away, that he might not fire on his countrymen; but the pirates drove him back to his gun, with the threat of shooting him if he attempted to desert them again. Sambo, on account of his general intelligence, had been made captain of his gun, and he seemed to be as eager in working it as any one else; but he gave Jack a hint that no one on board the frigate would be the worse for any shot he fired. Now began a scene of the most terrific carnage. The pirates fought like demons; but were struck down by numbers at a time, till the deck became a complete shambles. Still Jack and Sambo were unhurt. Some of the pirates gave signs of a desire to haul down their flag; but their captain shot a man who was attempting the operation, and that made the others desist. At length Captain John received a wound and fell to the deck, and the crew rushing aft struck to the frigate. After giving them a couple of extra broadsides--for pirates are seldom treated with courtesy--the victor sent his boats, well armed, to take possession. No further opposition was made, though the little captain, as he lay writhing on the deck, urged his crew to heave cold shot into the boats as they came alongside. The British seamen climbed up the sides with their cutlasses in their teeth, and took possession of their prize. CHAPTER TEN. Some dozen men only of the pirates remained unhurt. They, with Jack and Sambo, were forthwith transferred to the frigate and placed in irons below. "I'm no pirate," said Jack to the men who were handcuffing him. "Oh, no," they answered with a laugh; "you looks like a lamb, and that 'ere craft there with the black flag flying is just an honest trader." Poor fellow, he was begrimed with powder and smoke and blood, and looked very unattractive. He felt very wretched, for he saw no means of proving that he was innocent. His only comfort was that Sambo was near him. They could thus carry on a conversation in an undertone. Sambo had been so knocked about the world, and had been in so many strange positions, that he was not easily cast down. "Neber mind, Jack-- something save us dis time too--we trust in God."