“You brute!” he exclaimed in English.  “I have a good mind to throw you overboard, and will do so the next time you strike one of these children without cause.”

Infuriated by Gervaise’s interference and threatening attitude, the corsair drew his long knife; but before he could strike, Gervaise caught his wrist; the knife fell from his hand, and Gervaise kicked it through the open gangway into the sea.  The captain shouted to his men to seize the Christian, but the young knight’s blood was up now.  The first man who came at him he seized by the sash round his waist, and threw overboard; the two next he stretched on the deck with blows from his clenched fist.  Some of the others now drew their weapons, but the captain shouted to them to sheath them.

“Fools!” he yelled.  “Is it not enough that your cowardice has already cost us the lives of three knights, whose capture would have brought us a big sum?  Throw him down and bind him.  What! are fifty of you afraid of one unarmed man?  No wonder these Christians capture our ships, if this is the mettle of our crews!”

Goaded by his words, the men made a general rush upon Gervaise, and, in spite of his desperate efforts, threw him on to the deck and bound him; then the captain, seizing a heavy stick in his left hand, his right being still powerless, showered blows upon him until Gervaise almost lost consciousness.  “Throw some water over the dog,” the corsair said, as he threw down the stick, panting with his exertions; and then, without waiting to see if his order was obeyed, he took his place in the boat, and was rowed ashore.

As soon as he had left, three or four of the ex galley slaves carried Gervaise into the shade of the sail.  The sailors, several of whom bore signs of the late struggle, looked on sullenly, but offered no opposition when the men took off the ropes and raised him into a sitting posture against the mast.  He had not entirely lost consciousness, and was now fast recovering himself.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” one of the men asked in Italian.

“No I shall soon be all right again, although I am bruised all over, and shall be stiff for a day or two.  You had best leave me now, or you will incur the enmity of these fellows.”

Gervaise was indeed bruised from his neck to his heels.  Even in his passion the pirate had avoided striking him on the head, as a disfiguring mark on the face would diminish his value.  Sitting there, he congratulated himself that he had been beaten with a stick and not with a whip; a stick is a weapon, and he did not feel the same sense of dishonour that he would have experienced had he been beaten with a whip.  That such might be his lot in slavery he recognised.  The backs of Caretto and his two companions were seamed with the marks inflicted by the gang master’s whip, and he could scarce hope to escape the same treatment; but at present he hardly felt a slave.