as if hurt. I looked back over my shoulder, and saw Mr. Shuan in the

doorway, crossing blades with Alan.

"That's him that killed the boy!" I cried.

"Look to your window!" said Alan; and as I turned back to my place, I

saw him pass his sword through the mate's body.

It was none too soon for me to look to my own part; for my head was

scarce back at the window, before five men, carrying a spare yard for

a battering-ram, ran past me and took post to drive the door in. I had

never fired with a pistol in my life, and not often with a gun; far less

against a fellow-creature. But it was now or never; and just as they

swang the yard, I cried out: "Take that!" and shot into their midst.

I must have hit one of them, for he sang out and gave back a step, and

the rest stopped as if a little disconcerted. Before they had time to

recover, I sent another ball over their heads; and at my third shot

(which went as wide as the second) the whole party threw down the yard

and ran for it.

Then I looked round again into the deck-house. The whole place was full

of the smoke of my own firing, just as my ears seemed to be burst with

the noise of the shots. But there was Alan, standing as before; only

now his sword was running blood to the hilt, and himself so swelled

with triumph and fallen into so fine an attitude, that he looked to be

invincible. Right before him on the floor was Mr. Shuan, on his hands

and knees; the blood was pouring from his mouth, and he was sinking

slowly lower, with a terrible, white face; and just as I looked, some of

those from behind caught hold of him by the heels and dragged him bodily

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