The padrone, followed by the two men, was at last aft,--they paused a moment before they stepped over the strengthening plank, which ran from side to side of the boat between them and the midshipmen, and as neither of them stirred, they imagined that both were asleep--advanced and raised their knives, when Gascoigne and Jack, almost at the same moment, each discharged their pistols into the breast of the padrone and one of the men, who was with him in advance, who both fell with the send aft of the boat, so as to encumber the midshipmen with the weight of their bodies.

The third man started back.

Jack, who could not rise, from the padrone lying across his legs, took a steady aim with his second pistol, and the third man fell.

The boy at the helm, who, it appeared, either was aware of what was to be done, or seeing the men advance with their knives, had acted upon what he saw, also drew his knife and struck at Gascoigne from behind; the knife fortunately, after slightly wounding Gascoigne on the shoulder, had shut on the boy's hand--Gascoigne sprang up with his other pistol--the boy started back at the sight of it, lost his balance, and fell overboard.
Our two midshipmen took a few seconds to breathe.

"I say, Jack," said Gascoigne at last, "did you ever--" "No, I never--" replied Jack.
"What's to be done now ?" "Why, as we've got possession, Ned, we had better put a man at the helm-for the speronare is having it all her own way." "Very true," replied Gascoigne, "and as I can steer better than you, I suppose it must be me." Gascoigne went to the helm, brought the boat up to the wind, and then they resumed their conversation.
"That rascal of a boy gave me a devil of a lick on the shoulder; I don't know whether he has hurt me--at all events it's my left shoulder, so I can steer just as well.