The sailors of the man-of-war had fought valiantly and stoutly, even impetuously, but their enemies--picked men from two pirate crews--had fought like wire-muscled devils.

Ablaze with fury they had cut down the Badger's men, piling them upon their own fallen comrades; they had followed the brave fellows with oaths, cutlasses, and pistols as, little at a time and fighting all the while, they slowly clambered back into their own ship.

The pirates had thrown their grapnels over the bulwarks of the man-of-war; they had followed, cut by cut, shot by shot, until they now stood upon the Badger, fighting with the same fury that they had just fought upon the blood-soaked Revenge.

Blackbeard was not yet with them--whatever happened, Blackbeard must be refreshed--but now he sprang into the enemy's ship--that fine British man-of-war, the corvette Badger, which had so bravely sailed down upon his ship to capture her--and led the carnage.
They were tough men, those British seamen, tough in heart, tough in arms and body; they fought above decks and they fought below, and they laid many a pirate scoundrel dead; but they had met a foe which was too strong for them--a pack of brawny, hairy desperadoes, picked from two pirate crews.

The first officer now commanding, panting, bleeding, and torn, groaned as he saw that his men could fight no longer, and he surrendered the Badger to the pirates.
The great Blackbeard yelled with delight.