ship upon the coast.  L’Olonnois understood very well that it would not do for him or his men to make answer to these inquiries, for their speech would have shown they did not belong to those parts.  Therefore he made one of his prisoner fishermen answer that they had not seen a pirate vessel, and if there had been one there, it must have sailed away when its captain heard the Spanish ship was coming.  Then the canoes were allowed to go their way, but their way was a very different one from any which could have been expected by the captain of the ship.

They rowed off into the darkness instead of going toward the town, and waited until nearly daybreak, then they boldly made for the man-of-war, one canoe attacking her on one side and the other on the other.  Before the Spanish could comprehend what had happened there were more than twenty pirates upon their decks, the dreaded L’Olonnois at their head.

In such a case as this cannon were of no use, and when the crew tried to rush upon deck, they found that cutlasses and pistols did not avail very much better.  The pirates had the advantage; they had overpowered the watch, and were defending the deck against all comers from below.  It requires a very brave sailor to stick his head out of a hatchway when he sees three or four cutlasses ready to split it open.  But there was some stout fighting on board; the officers came out of their cabins, and some of the men were able to force their way out into the struggle.  The pirates knew, however, that they were but few and that were their enemies allowed to get on deck they would prove entirely too strong, and they fought, each scoundrel of them, like three men, and the savage fight ended by every Spanish sailor or officer who was not killed or wounded being forced to stay below decks, where the hatches were securely fastened down upon them.

L’Olonnois now stood a proud victor on the deck of his prize, and, being a man of principle, he determined to live up to the distinguished reputation which he had acquired in that part of the world.  Baring his muscular and hairy right arm, he clutched the handle of his sharp and heavy cutlass and ordered the prisoners to be brought up from below, one at a time, and conducted to the place where he stood.  He wished to give Spain a lesson which would make her understand that he was not to be interfered with in the execution of his enterprises, and he determined to allow himself the pleasure of personally teaching this lesson.

As soon as a prisoner was brought to L’Olonnois he struck off his head, and this performance he continued, beginning with number one, and going on until he had counted ninety.  The last one brought to him was the negro slave.  This man, who was not a soldier, was desperately frightened and begged piteously for his life.  L’Olonnois, finding that the man was willing to tell everything he knew, questioned him about the sending of this vessel from Havana, and when the poor fellow had finished by telling that he had come there, not of his own accord, but simply for the purpose of obeying his master, to hang all the pirates except their leader, that great buccaneer laughed, and, finding he could get nothing more from the negro, cut off his head likewise, and his body was tumbled into the sea after those of his companions.