Anchored at a considerable
distance from shore was the great Spanish ship on which he had been a
prisoner, and from which he would have been taken and hung in the public
square; the sight of the vessel filled his soul with a savage fury known
only to pirates and bull dogs.
As the little vessel slowly approached the great ship, the people on
board the latter thought it was a trading-vessel from shore, and allowed
it to come alongside, such small craft seldom coming from the sea. But
the moment Bartholemy reached the ship he scrambled up its side almost
as rapidly as he had jumped down from it with his two wine-jars a few
weeks before, and every one of his crew, leaving their own vessel to
take care of itself, scrambled up after him.
Nobody on board was prepared to defend the ship. It was the same old
story; resting quietly in a peaceful harbor, what danger had they to
expect? As usual the pirates had everything their own way; they were
ready to fight, and the others were not, and they were led by a man who
was determined to take that ship without giving even a thought to the
ordinary alternative of dying in the attempt. The affair was more of a
massacre than a combat, and there were people on board who did not know
what was taking place until the vessel had been captured.
As soon as Bartholemy was master of the great vessel he gave orders to
slip the cable and hoist the sails, for he was anxious to get out of
that harbor as quickly as possible.
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