personal danger for which he had never before got credit. Whether it was that Ted Flaggan had underrated him, or that there is truth in the proverb about extremes meeting, we cannot tell, but certain it is, that when Rais Ali saw every gun of the battery dismounted but one, he rushed at that one like an enraged lion, seized the rammer from the man who wielded it, and began to load.
He might have spared himself the trouble, for before he got the charge rammed home, a shot from the terrible Queen Charlotte struck the parapet just underneath, burst it up, and toppled the gun over. Rais leaped on the ramparts, waved his scimitar with a yell of defiance, and, tumbling after the gun, was lost amid a cloud of lime-dust and débris.
Strange to say, he rose from out the ruin almost unhurt, and quite undismayed.
Hasting along the quay without any definite end in view, he found the captain of the port getting the flotilla of gun-boats ready for action. There were thirty-seven of them, and up to that time they had lain as snugly in the harbour as was compatible with a constant shower of shells and rockets tumbling into them. With great daring the pirates had resolved to make a dash with these, under cover of the smoke, and attempt to board the British flag-ship.
"Where go you?" demanded the infuriated Rais.
