“Then I understood. That man who had hailed us was the captain of the same piratical band that had attacked Captain Munson’s other ship and carried off his wife and child. The next instant following Sterling’s exclamation was a dramatic one. “‘You know me, sir?’ asked the mate. “‘Yes! Yes! You’re Robert Sterling,’ burst from the captain’s lips. ‘I recall it all now. The fight! That ruffian struck me down. I woke up to find you all gone. But, Sterling, how do you come to be here,—and—and where are Bess and the baby?’ “I felt sorry for Sterling then. His face went as white as the captain’s visage and he actually shook as if from cold. But he had to answer. “‘Better off than if they were in the hands of those ruffians, sir,’ he replied in a low voice which shook perilously, ‘they are——’ “‘Dead!’ burst out the captain, with a terrible cry. “Sterling bowed his head. “‘Your wife leaped overboard rather than be sold down the coast as a slave,’ he said slowly, ‘and—and she took the baby with her.’ “I did not dare to look at Captain Munson’s face. But I could hear his breath come short and quick, just like a man breathes after a long, hard swim. But the next instant we had other things to think of. A volley of small arms from the pirate craft whistled about our ears. She was up to windward and evidently meant to grapple and board us. What followed is hard to describe. I don’t know how most men feel in a fight of that character, but it seemed to me that I was in a dream. I fired and loaded, and fired and loaded, while all about me bullets were flying and fallen men groaning. Splinters flew as the pirate’s volleys raked our rails. I was suddenly conscious of being wounded, but I fought on, actually hardly knowing what I was doing. “Suddenly the pirate’s sails loomed close alongside. Our yardarms locked with his. Grappling irons were thrown aboard us and the whole horde of ruffians tried to board us by main force. But they met with such desperate resistance that they were compelled to retreat for the time. Right here is where the cook figured. Just as things looked most critical he turned the tide for us. Attached to a huge boiler in his domain was a hose, used for washing stains out of the decks. “While we had been arming he had made up a roaring fire. By the time the pirates boarded us there was enough boiling water in the boiler to make that hose an effective weapon. Yelling like an Indian, the cook turned it on the scrambling mass of rascals. The stream of boiling water was more effective than bullets. With yells and cries they fell back, some of them scalded horribly.