For some days the schooner stood on, happily meeting with no other vessel to plunder and destroy. We all the time were kept in anxious doubt as to what was to be our fate. We had another cause of anxiety, in observing that the crew were inclined to quarrel with each other. The cause of this we could not understand, but the fact was very evident. A party seemed to be formed against the captain, and it appeared to us that Silva was at the head of it. Of course this was only conjecture. He was certainly not on such good terms with the captain as he had been at first. He was not a man of a quarrelsome or ambitious disposition, and probably some of the rest of the crew put him forward as their chief, knowing that he would be the principal sufferer if their plans failed, and believing that they could easily get rid of him if at any time they found it convenient so to do. Now and then disputes arose to a high pitch. Knives would be drawn and pistols flashed. More than once matters were brought to extremities; wounds were given and received, and blood was spilt. It had the effect of cooling their tempers for a moment, but at the slightest provocation they again broke out. One day two men were talking together, apparently on very good terms. One of them we saw pull a dice-box out of his pocket, with several gold and silver coins; the other likewise produced his money. They began to play--at first laughing in a friendly way at the various turns of their fortunes. Then the laughter ceased, and they grew more earnest and intent on the game. One looked very triumphant, as the gold lately owned by his antagonist began to swell his heap. At last the other had no money left. He produced a watch, a clasp-knife and several jewels, a golden crucifix (which he kissed before parting with), and a silver-mounted pistol. His teeth were firm set; his eyes began to roll. He played on. Again he lost; but he had nothing wherewith to pay. He turned his pockets inside out. The winner seemed still to be insisting on payment. A deadly pallor came over the countenance of the loser. He sprang to his feet; a sailor was passing, with a long knife stuck in his red sash; he snatched it from the man, and uttering an exclamation equivalent to "Have at you, then! take all I have to give!" plunged it up to the hilt in the body of the winner, who fell to the deck without a groan. The action brought all those on deck around him. "He insulted me," he exclaimed; "he won all I had, and then asked for more." The bystanders seemed to acquiesce in the justness and rightfulness of the action. They did not attempt to touch the murderer, but they lifted up the body of the man he had wounded. He was already quite dead. None of the officers attempted to interfere. The murderer searched in the pockets of his victim for the money and jewels, and counting out the coin, took possession of what had been his own. Again with blasphemous