He had not been long seated to inspect them when a shuffling and hurried sound of feet was heard overhead, and a voice calling on ‘Mr. Wright’ for assistance showed that some scuffle had taken place above. Instantaneously we all started to our feet, and the lieutenant was in the act of drawing his sword, when, accidentally looking round, I observed Mahone presenting a pistol behind. With a cry of warning, I threw myself forward, and had just time to strike the weapon slightly aside, when it went off. The ball narrowly missed the head of Wright, for whom it had been aimed, but struck the priest over the right eye, and the unfortunate man, making one desperate and convulsive leap as high as the ceiling, sunk down dead, and before the captain could fire again I discharged the contents of my pistol into his breast. We then rushed up on deck, but it was only to find that the boat’s crew had been mastered, and to behold the last of the men tumbled overboard. The pirates then dispersed, and exerted themselves to get the ship speedily under way, while the boatswain sang out to extinguish the stern lights that the ‘Tartar’ might not be guided by them. ‘It is all over with us!’ exclaimed my companion, ‘but follow me; we have one chance for our lives yet. Our boat is still towing astern. You throw yourself overboard and swim till I slide down the painter, and cut her adrift. Come, bear a hand, and jump. Don’t you see them hastening aft?’ and in an instant he pitched himself off the taffrail, slid down the rope which held the boat, and cast her loose. But this advice, however judicious, it was impossible for me to follow, for at that moment repeated shrieks from Isabella put to flight all thoughts for my own individual safety. I, therefore, hurried back to the cabin, determined that if I could not rescue her along with myself, to remain and protect her with my life. And in the nick of time I arrived. The candles were still burning on the table, and through the smoke of the pistols, which still filled the cabin, I beheld her struggling in the arms of a Spanish sailor--the identical fellow who had displayed such insolence in the early part of the evening. With one stroke of the butt end of my pistol I fractured the cursed villain’s skull, caught up Isabella in my arms, ran up the ladder, and had nearly gained the side when the boatswain, attracted by her white garments, left the helm to intercept me, and I saw the gleam of a dagger or knife of some sort on the point of descending, when he was suddenly struck down by some person from behind. I did not stop to discover who had done me this good office, but hailing Wright, and clasping Isabella firmly in my arms, I plunged into the water, followed by, at that moment, an unknown ally. With the aid of my companion, whom I now found to be John Wyllie, the mate, we easily managed to support our charge till the boat reached us, when we found that the greater part of the ‘Tartar’s’ men, who also