Brandon had slipped on the grass, when he landed, and Herford alighted almost in his arms, and a trifle beyond him. Both men recovered themselves at the same instant, but Herford was between Brandon and freedom. Like a flash, he drew his sword, and flung himself upon the aide. Herford was not an expert, but he had agility, and, that first requisite of a fencer, a strong wrist, and he held his own, for the moment that was necessary to enable the guard to come up. Just as they appeared, he felt the other's sword pass through his shoulder, and he knew no more. Brandon whipped out the blade, and sprang forward. Too late! A dozen soldiers were in the way. He put his back to the house, and waited. He would die, here--die as Long-Sword--die with the music of the steel, perhaps the roll of musketry, in his ears. It was better--much better--than the rope. A figure leaped down from the window. It was De Lysle. "Brandon!" he exclaimed. "Let me aid you." The other waved him back. "You cannot aid me. I am alone on the ship," he said. "Farewell, my friend.--Ah! place for his Excellency!" The Governor came hurriedly out, followed by Maynadier and Marbury. Constable, and the rest of the men of the house party, attracted by the unusual commotion, were hastening over from the race track, though they could not yet see what was occurring on the opposite side of the house. Colonel Sharpe took in the whole scene at a glance:--the solitary figure against the wall, the dozen soldiers that hemmed him in, the wounded Herford lying on the grass, the blood blotching breast and shoulder. And he swore a great oath, and, kneeling, raised the Captain's head. "He is not dead!" he said. "Here, Maynadier, look to him, will you?" Then he arose and faced Brandon. The latter's sword went up in salute. "Perhaps your Excellency will favor me with a pass or two?" he said. The Governor's face was set and stern, for the time, all mercy had passed out of it. "For I _am_ Long-Sword," he continued, "even as I _am_ Sir Charles Brandon. And, ere we grow busy in the business of death, I want to say, in order that my friend, De Lysle, may not be misunderstood, that, although he recognized me after he entered the cabin, where I was prisoner, yet he knew nothing of my coming to Annapolis, until I walked in upon him at the Coffee-house. I was going home. Long-Sword the Pirate was to be buried, forever. In ten days, I should have sailed.... But the Fates were against me--I shall not go home--I shall die as Long-Sword, instead." He bowed gracefully to the Governor. "I thank your Excellency! Now, cry on your dogs!" At this instant, Constable came through the house and out on the esplanade. "What is it?" he exclaimed--"what does it mean?" "It is the passing of Long-Sword the Pirate," Brandon answered. "Will not your Excellency begin?" "I would much rather you surrendered," said Colonel Sharpe. "No doubt! it would save you a few lives," he mocked. "You decline to yield?"