effective way of dealing with the enemy than running her down could have been practised. The _Panther_ had three or four times the tonnage of her adversary, whose lightness and low bulwarks made her easily accessible to this kind of attack. Nor would the pirates have a chance of showing the desperate valour which the Roman boarding-parties had learnt to respect and almost to fear. The only argument on the other side would have been that prisoners and booty would probably be lost. But, as a matter of fact, the Count had no opportunity of weighing the _pros_ and _cons_ in the matter. The _Panther_, driving as she was straight before the wind, was practically unmanageable. She struck the pirate craft with a tremendous crash amidships, and cut her almost literally in half. One blow, and one only, did the pirates strike at their conquerors. When escape had become manifestly impossible by the fall of the mast, the Saxon warriors had dropped their oars, and seizing their bows had discharged a volley of arrows against the Roman ship. The hurry and confusion of the moment did not favour accurate aim, and most of the missiles flew wide of the mark; but one seemed to have been destined to fulfil the helmsman’s expectations of evil to come. It struck the old man on the left side, inflicting a fatal wound. In the first confusion of the shock the incident was not noticed, for the brave fellow stuck gallantly to the tiller, propping himself up against it while he kept the _Panther_ steadily before the wind. In fact, loss of blood had brought him nearly to his end before it was even known that he had been wounded. Then, in a moment, the Count was at his side. [Illustration: The Panther and the Saxon Pirate.] “Carry him to my own cabin,” he said. The old man raised his hand in a gesture that seemed to refuse the service which half a dozen stout sailors were at once ready to render him. “Nay,” said he, “it is idle; this arrow has sped me. But let me die here, where I can see the waves and the sky. I have known them, man and boy, threescore years—aye, and more, for my father would take me on his ship when I was a tiny chap of three feet high. Nay, no cabin for me; ’tis almost as bad as dying in one’s bed.” His voice grew feeble. The Count stopped, and asked whether there was anything that he could do for him. “Nay,” said the old man, “nothing; I have neither chick nor child. ’Tis all as well as I could have wished. But mark, my lord, I was right about sailing in October. Any one that knows the sea would be sure that trouble must come of it.” The next moment he was past speaking or hearing. It was his privilege, we must remember, to have the last word.