Sheltering under the bulwarks, Hughes obeyed. The gun was already loaded with rifle bullets, and heavily charged. The boats came leisurely on, for all on board the brig seemed buried in sleep. The dip of the muffled oars could hardly be distinguished even by those who were watching, consequently the noise could never have awoke men asleep. The wash of the wave made itself heard on the beach, and so still was the night that the quack of the ducks, and the call of the widgeon and wild geese feeding among the reeds, came on the air. On the forecastle the creaking of a gun-carriage told that Captain Hughes was not idle, and those in the boat heard it too. They stopped rowing, the three drawing closely together, apparently in consultation. This was the moment the captain chose, and the loud hail, "Boat ahoy!" rang out from the quarter-deck. A shrill yell and a musket-shot was the reply, followed by the boom of the forecastle gun, as it scattered its bagful of rifle bullets right among them. The aim had been deliberate and deadly. The loud scream of agony, the yell of vengeance, replied to by the cheer of the English seamen, rang out in the silent night. One boat had been sunk, and its crew apparently either killed or drowned, for not waiting to rescue them the other two dashed on with a wild scream for vengeance. Leaving the useless gun, for there was no time to load it again, Hughes and the three men on the forecastle made their way aft. A spattering fire now ran along the brig's deck, replied to from the two boats, as they dashed on, the one for the bow, the other on the quarter. In a few seconds, the Malays were alongside. Grasping the rigging, their long knives between their teeth, they swarmed over the bulwarks fore and aft. The deadly musketry struck them down, the pistol shots, at point blank range, shattered their heads, but still they came on. The English seamen cheered as they struck right and left with their short cutlasses, and there on the main deck stood Dom Maxara, a long curved sabre in his hand, dripping with blood, cheering on the men in a language they did not understand. The boat which had boarded on the quarter was beaten off, but joining the other the two had united their numbers, and some fifty maddened and nearly naked pirates came pouring over the bows, driving the crew before them. Among the Malays, one tall, powerful fellow, nearly naked, seemed the leader of the rest; shouting, gesticulating, and striking right and left, he urged the assailants on. Once already had the crew been driven back to the break of the quarter-deck, but, led on by Captain Weber, had repulsed their enemies. Brandishing a jagged piece of broken spar, his hat having fallen off, and a streak of blood on the forehead showing him to be wounded, the old seaman fought like a tiger. "Give it them, my lads, no quarter for the bloody pirates. Overboard with them!" he shouted, as he dashed full at the leader of the Malays.