We were not kept long in suspense. On came the brig. She was a fine-looking vessel; but such a sight met our eyes as I never expected to see. Her deck was crowded with men, but instead of attempting to shorten sail, they were all shrieking and fighting together. One party seemed to have taken possession of the after-part of the vessel, the rest were forward--while in the intermediate space several lay weltering in their blood. Now one party would rush forward and meet the other in the waist, and then after a desperate struggle one would retreat before the other. Thus they continued as long as they remained in sight. It appeared, from the glimpse we got of them as they drove by, that the crew had risen against their officers, who were fighting to regain the upper hand. What they were it was difficult to say, but their appearance bespoke them to be a great set of ruffians. I asked Ben Yool what he thought of them. "To my mind, Master Harry, they are nothing better than a set of pirates, and I had just as soon not have fallen in with them in smooth water." Every spy-glass on board was directed towards them. Strange as it appeared, there could be no doubt about the matter. In spite of the terrific gale--in spite of the prospect of the masts going overboard, and of the ship being reduced to a complete wreck, an event which might any moment occur, the wretched crew of the brig were destroying each other with the maddest fury. From the state of things on board as we saw them, the chances were that the survivors of the victorious party would not have strength to take in sail or clear the deck at the end of the fight.