“Monilon!” cried the captain, sternly, “Why are you so long.  May Allah eternally confound you, indolent heathen of a Greek!”

“Achmet, you are my master.  I am old.  Do not beat me.  I have not the strength of youth.”

“Insolent greybeard!  Be more respectful.  Since your daughter’s escape, you have grown suddenly bold.  Beware!”

“I rejoice that Iona is out of a ruffian’s power.”

“Dog!  What!  Ha!” he cried, in amaze, as turning to fell the old man to the deck, he saw the Grecian vessel rounding the promontory.  “Ho, men! up!  To arms!  A corsair!”

Instantly, every man sprung to seize his arms.  The guns were made ready, and all was prepared for action.

“Monilon, go below.  We will blow up these knaves in your absence.  You will have company soon from the slaves in yon ship.”

A wild shout from the corsair interrupted him.  Suddenly the approaching vessel paused, and some movement was made upon her decks.

“By great Allah, they are afraid.  Ha!  They are moving that long gun.  They are pointing it.”  A loud noise followed his remark, and a huge ball struck the ship sending the splinters around in every direction.  Then the corsair bore down upon them.  Yet not more than six men appeared upon her deck.  When close by she poured a broadside into the Turkish ship, wounding and killing great numbers.  The Turks sent back another, and shot off some of the rigging.  But now the ships were close together.  A trumpet was blown by a noble and splendidly apparelled youth who seemed to be leader.  Instantly a crowd of men poured out from the hold.  They came thronging the deck, and rushed after their leader into the Turkish vessel.

“Ranadar!” shouted Achmet.

“Ha, Achmet!” and Ranadar rushed upon the Turk.  Their scimetars crossed and flashed fire.  Three times the steel of Ranadar started the blood of Achmet.  Twice he forced him upon his knee.  At last the Turk struck furiously at the corsair.  But the next moment his sword was whirled from his hand, and the Moslem chief fell gasping at the feet of Ranadar.

“Victory, victory!  Down with the Turks,” shouted the fierce corsair, as they rushed more furiously than ever upon their foes.  “Victory!” and the shout which added force to the Greeks, took away the courage of the Turks.  For a while the carnage raged, the Greeks cut down their enemies who still fought with the wild energy of despair.  Many leaped into the sea.  Others leaned against their dead comrades, and though wounded, still kept up resistance.

“Yield! yield!  You are conquered!” cried Ranadar!  “Yield, and I will be merciful!”

At this there was a pause.  They threw down their swords, and acknowledged themselves prisoners.

But as Ranadar turned to look upon the dead body of Achmet, and to direct his men about the ship, he saw an aged man leaning against the side of the ship.  For a moment he looked, and then springing forward, he caught the old man in his arms.