Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 146 No. 4 — page 66: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

4 | % threw himself forward to the rescue of the Moor embroiled amid a crowd. _ “ Hurray!” The seamen streamed after him. A pis- tol cracked, and another; the Yankee rush burst the crowd asunder. The yell rose more shrill, as Spence’s other boats came up, and for a moment he thought they would take the ship at a blow. Only for amoment! Now from stem and stern came a rush of figures; steel flamed in the lan- tern light; the confusion and whirl of blades made an inextricable turmoil across the deck. From all this stood forth one terrible vision which was burned into Spence’s memory. Himself engaged with a swarthy corsair, he saw Gholam Mahmoud cross blades with one of the Newfoundland men. A lantern lit them distinctly. He saw Gholam lean forward in a curious manner—saw his blade sweep out, then down and up—and with a scream the seaman died, ripped from abdomen to chin. It was the famous Ma- meluke stroke, the deadly and unavoidable cut which made the Mameluke swordsmen invincible throughout the east, * Allah!” yelled the corsairs, and the Moors who fought for Spence responded in kind. Spence clove his way to the poop, and found the rail ahead of him. The waist was cleared. To bow and stern his men were driving the defenders. Then a rush changed the whole aspect. The sea- men became bunched in the waist, fired on from poop and bow. _ “ Aft, lads!” shouted Spence, his voice rising over the din. “ Aft! To the poop!” ' He leaped up the ladder, gained the poop, and found himself assailed by a cor- sair, the rais of the ship. Spence fended his head with his blade, and the steel shiv- ered. He reeled, saw the swarthy face whirl in upon him, and leaped barehanded. He jerked up the bearded head, caught the naked torso, threw all his power into the terrific wrench. The corsair shrieked once, sie went limp as his neck twisted. “Up with you, men!” shouted Spence, coming. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. gained the poop and began to clear it, Now amid the turmoil, Spence copes glimpse of a white figure by the starboard rail, dragging a lantern from its place. He stared, incredulous, at the face of Mee Betty—then a streak of fire and a roar leaped forth from her hand. A little swivel — gun, mounted there at the rail, had been emptied into the crowded ranks of the cor- sairs! In the flames of that discharge darted forward the face of Gholam Mahmoud, contorted and infernal in its rage. Spence saw the flash of a weapon, heard the girl cry out, hurled forward. Of what passed around him he saw nothing—now he had Gholam Mahmoud before him, and he heard the voice of Mistress Betty in his ears, and was fighting like a madman. It was fortunate that Spence had seen and noted that dreaded Mameluke stroke, for now he saw Gholam Mahmoud lean for- ward again in that same curious manner. Spence leaped back and the blade hurtled up—a miss! Gholam snarled as Spence pressed in again. No words passed; the two men fought back toward the stern-— back and back, quartering the deck with blow after blow. Once again came that Mameluke stroke, this time so close that the steel point drew blood from Spence’s chest. As the blow missed, almost before it had missed, Spence was in and struck fiercely, with all his strength. He felt the blade go home—heard the sword of Gholam Mahmoud clatter down on the deck. Then, in a flash, the man leaped up to the rail—gained it! He stood there an instant, getting his balance for a spring to the water; in this instant came something like a streak of light that took him squarely between the shoulders. A knife, it was—a long curved knife from the hand of a Moor. Gholam Mahmoud threw out his arms, the knife haft standing from his back; am Be