Up we rose, thirty of us and more.

Up we rose with a shout; we poured into the captain's cabin, I at the head.

The brave old boy had caught the alarm, and there he stood at the doorway, a pistol in each hand; and his one eye (he had only one) worse to meet than the pistols were.
"'Yield!' cried I; 'your life shall be safe.' "'Take that,' said he, and whiz went the pistol; but the saints took care of their own, and the ball passed by my cheek, and shot the boatswain behind me.

I closed with the captain, and the other pistol went off without mischief in the struggle.

Such a fellow he was,--six feet four without his shoes! Over we went, rolling each on the other.
Santa Maria! no time to get hold of one's knife.