The junk heaved back, settled, turned slowly over and seemed to spread
out into a great mass of wreckage. Pieces of timber and plank and spar came
tumbling down and a few men scrambled to our decks. We could hear others
crying out in the water, as they swam here and there or grasped at planks
and beams to keep themselves afloat.
The cannon ball had penetrated the side of the junk and had exploded a
great store of gunpowder.
Part of the wreckage of the junk was burning, and the flames threw a red
glare over the strange scene aboard the ship, where the odds had been so
suddenly altered. Our assailants, who but a moment before had had us at
their mercy, now were confounded by the terrific blow they had received;
instead of fighting the more bravely because no retreat was left them, they
were confused and did not know which way to turn.
Davie Paine, sometimes so slow-witted, seemed now to grasp the situation
with extraordinary quickness. "Come on, lads," he bellowed, "we've got 'em
by the run."
Again clubbing his musket, he leaped into the gangway so ferociously that
the pirates scrambled over the side, brown men and white, preferring to
take their chances in the sea. As he charged on, I lost sight of him in the
maelstrom of struggling figures.
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