It was four bells in the midwatch when I heard an exclamation from the second mate. At first I thought he was talking to the men in his watch, who usually lay, or rather sat, in a group abaft the deck-house during the calm weather. With one on the t’gallant fo’castle as lookout and another at the wheel, there were ten men left with nothing to do but keep awake. I was wide-awake when I heard the second mate’s voice again. This time he appeared to hail some one at a distance. Thinking this strange, I listened intently. Suddenly I heard a low, regular sound. There was no mistaking the noise; it was the regular, rocking sound made by oars in rowlocks, and the swing of the oars was quick. A man hailed us at no great distance, but I couldn’t make out what he said. Then the oar-strokes grew louder, and I raised myself on my elbow. All of a sudden O’Toole roared, “All hands! Mr. Gore! Help!” and a rifle-shot rang out sharp and clear, followed by a terrific uproar alongside the ship. I made a dive to the foot of my bunk and grasped a revolver that lay there on a small shelf. The next instant I burst through the door of the forward cabin on to the main-deck. In the darkness I heard O’Toole’s oaths near the port side amidships. I had no idea what had happened, but through the gloom I made out a crowd of men struggling about an object which I rightly guessed to be the second mate’s red head. Men’s faces appeared by the score coming over the bulwarks, and I realized that we were being boarded. Then I plunged into the crowd, bawling for the watch to lay aft and help. The second mate was surrounded by a throng of strange men, and was laying about him with an iron belaying-pin, warding off thrusts from knives and cutlasses. Before I could reach him a dozen or more set upon me and I backed away, firing chamber after chamber of my revolver at the men nearest to me. I heard shouts from aft, and Crojack’s hoarse voice from the companionway. Then there was rapid firing from all quarters at once. Men swarmed over the t’gallant-rail and fired at our men crowding under the fo’castle head. A tall man in front of me flashed a pistol so close to my face that it almost blinded me and the powder burnt my cheek. I took deliberate aim at him with my last cartridge and shot him dead. Then they closed in on all sides and bore me to the deck. I felt a knife point at my throat, but the next instant a hand dashed the blade aside and a powerful voice ordered that I be bound hand and foot. Men crowded about me and upon me. In spite of my struggles, my empty revolver was wrenched from my grasp and a line quickly passed around my body, lashing my arms to my sides. I saw O’Toole fighting like a demon. Twice a dozen or more men bore him by sheer weight to the deck. But he fought free, as a bulldog in a swarm of rats. Each time he went down, struggling fiercely, and instantly afterward arose, dragging the crowd of men to their feet along with him.