CUTLASSES There was no thought of guns or pistols.

There was no time to aim or fire.

Loge's rush had lodged him on the deck.

Roaring like a wild animal, he carried the fight to the defenders.

He meant to make a finish of it this time, and with the edged and bitter steel.
As the women scurried into the cabin the two lines met, with a ringing clash of blades, on the deck of the Jasper B., and the sparks flew from the stricken metal.