The man in black and silver rose and removed his doublet, folding it very carefully, inside out, that the sand might not injure the velvet, then drew his rapier, looked at it lovingly, made it bend until point and hilt well-nigh met, and faced me with a bow.

“You have fought twice, and must be weary,” he said.  “Will you not take breath before we engage, or will your long rest afterward suffice you?”

“I will rest aboard my ship,” I made reply.  “And as I am in a hurry to be gone we won’t delay.”

Our blades had no sooner crossed than I knew that in this last encounter I should need every whit of my skill, all my wit, audacity, and strength.  I had met my equal, and he came to it fresh and I jaded.  I clenched my teeth and prayed with all my heart; I set her face before me, and thought if I should fail her to what ghastly fate she might come, and I fought as I had never fought before.  The sound of the surf became a roar in my ears, the sunshine an intolerable blaze of light; the blue above and around seemed suddenly beneath my feet as well.  We were fighting high in the air, and had fought thus for ages.  I knew that he made no thrust I did not parry, no feint I could not interpret.  I knew that my eye was more quick to see, my brain to conceive, and my hand to execute than ever before; but it was as though I held that knowledge of some other, and I myself was far away, at Weyanoke, in the minister’s garden, in the haunted wood, anywhere save on that barren islet.  I heard him swear under his breath, and in the face I had set before me the eyes brightened.  As if she had loved me I fought for her with all my powers of body and mind.  He swore again, and my heart laughed within me.  The sea now roared less loudly, and I felt the good earth beneath my feet.  Slowly but surely I wore him out.  His breath came short, the sweat stood upon his forehead, and still I deferred my attack.  He made the thrust of a boy of fifteen, and I smiled as I put it by.

“Why don’t you end it?” he breathed.  “Finish and be hanged to you!”

For answer I sent his sword flying over the nearest hillock of sand.  “Am I Kirby?” I said.  He fell back against the heaped-up sand and leaned there, panting, with his hand to his side.  “Kirby or devil,” he replied.  “Have it your own way.”

I turned to the now highly excited rabble.  “Shove the boats off, half a dozen of you!” I ordered.  “Some of you others take up that carrion there and throw it into the sea.  The gold upon it is for your pains.  You there with the wounded shoulder you have no great hurt.  I’ll salve it with ten pieces of eight from the captain’s own share, the next prize we take.”

A shout of acclamation arose that scared the sea fowl.  They who so short a time before had been ready to tear me limb from limb now with the greatest apparent delight hailed me as captain.  How soon they might revert to their former mood was a question that I found not worth while to propound to myself.