Trimalcyon remained on board his galley, having that of Pog temporarily under his orders. At some distance from the quay, he awaited the return of the long-boats, which were to bring on board the booty and the pirates. One of their number, throwing himself in the water, went to inform him of the danger which threatened his companions. Then Trimalcyon resorted to extreme measures. He had the irons removed from a part of the crew, armed them, and approached his galleys so near the quay that their beak-heads served as a landing-place, and at the head of this reinforcement, he, uttering a wild cry, threw himself upon the soldiers of Captain Georges, who in his turn found himself between two fires. Fog’s company, which had kept the street, sure of being supported, made a last effort against the carabineers, already attacked behind by Trimalcyon, cut their way through, operating in union with Trimalcyon’s men, and after a great loss, succeeded in gaining their vessels, carrying with them several prisoners, among whom were Master Isnard and his clerk. The boldest of the sailors and citizens, and almost all of the carabineers of Captain Georges, jumped into their boats to pursue the pirates. Unfortunately the advantage was on the side of the galleys. Their ten pieces of artillery struck the boats which tried to approach them. Then the galley, by vigorous use of oars, rapidly gained the outlet of the port, and prepared to double the point of Verte Island. Pog was standing in the stem of the Red Galleon; he was pale, his hair and his clothes were full of blood; he threw a look of sullen triumph on the flames which continued to rise in the centre of the city. Suddenly a cannon-shot resounded; a ball whistled above his head, and carried off a part of his galley’s stem. He turned around quickly. A second ball killed four of the galley-slaves and tore away the first seat of the rowers. By a little cloud of whitish smoke which crowned the embattled terrace of Maison-Forte, that could be seen in the distance by moonlight, the pirate recognised the spot whence these projectiles were sent. From his acquaintance with the habits of war, he perceived, from the great distance at which these missiles were fired, that they must have been shot by a culverin of large calibre, and consequently he could not return the fire, as the artillery of the _Red Galleon_ was unable to carry to such a distance. These first shots were followed by several others, not less happy, which caused considerable damage either on board the _Red Galleon_ or the _Sybarite_. “Hell and damnation!” cried Pog. “So long as we do not double the point of the bay, we will be under the fire of that hovel! Ply your oars faster, dogs,” cried he, addressing the crew. “Ply your oars faster, I tell you, or when I reach Tripoli, I will have your arms cut off to the shoulder!”