"We'll fight, old man, never fear!" "And when we can't fight 'em any longer, my lads," cried Captain Gillespie, looking round at us all with an expression of determination that I had never seen in his face before, "we'll blow up the ship sooner than surrender to this villainous gang!" The cheer that followed this ending of his speech was so loud and genuine, so full of British pluck, so hearty, that the pirates absolutely quailed at the sound of it, holding back a second or two before they sheered up alongside with the intention of boarding us.
They only made a short delay, though, during which we were not idle with our guns and revolvers; for, the next moment, with another yell of defiance, the pirate craft flung their grapnels in our rigging and climbed up on both sides of the ship simultaneously.
"Come down out of the tops!" shouted Mr Mackay to the hands aloft.
"Come down at once, we want all of your aid with cold steel now!" These soon joined us, and then followed a series of shouts and cries and shots and groans which it makes me dizzy even now to think of; until, after losing three of our number, amongst them being poor Mr Saunders, whom we dragged in mortally wounded with us, we all retreated to the cabin, barricading ourselves there with all sorts of bales and boxes, and bracing up the saloon table, which we had previously unloosed from its lashings, to act as a shield under the skylight.
The pirates made a rush after us, but we were too quick for them; so then, leaving us alone for awhile, they proceeded to rummage the ship forward, where, from the noise they made hacking and hewing at the deck, they were evidently trying to break open the hold so as to get at the cargo.

But the hatchways being constructed of iron beneath the wood their battering away at them did not bother us much for the moment, as we knew they would find their work cut out for them and the job a long one.
Meanwhile, poor Mr Saunders lay dying on the cabin floor, bleeding from a wound in his breast.

The captain said there was no hope for him, for he had been shot through the lungs; and as I bent over him with a glass of water I had got from the pantry, he murmured something that sounded like Ching Wang.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Mr Mackay.

"Where is the Chinaman ?" Nobody knew; and although Mr Saunders had been the first to miss him, he could not say anything else about him, or tell us what had become of the poor fellow.

We were all, therefore, giving him up for lost, when, suddenly Pedro Carvalho, who, it may be remembered, bore no friendly feeling towards the cook, called out from the pantry window whence, through the jalousies, or open shutters, he could survey a portion of the main-deck.
"Diante de Deos!" he exclaimed, "dere is dat raskil Ching Wang yondare, chummy chumming and chin chinning does peerats.