H. Bedford-Jones

“ 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 Mameluke 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. ”

“ For a space it seemed that they would lay her board unchallenged; then, from her poop, cracked out a voice—the voice of Gholam Mahmoud. It was followed by the crack of a pistol.
“Off with the robes, lads! All up—boarders away!”
The boat surged forward—the oars fell. Spence caught a line, the agile Moor another, and they were over the rail. From the poop and bulwarks came a rush of men. The Moor emptied a pistol into them, then leaped forward with his curved blade swinging. Spence, cooler of head, stood by the rail, and his steel dropped the first man to reach him. ”

“ Somebody smote the man; there was the thud of a blow, then desperate silence. Spence felt a thrill as he sensed the quality of these seamen, sacrificing their hopes, jeopardizing their chances of escape for a girl they had never seen. ”