I sprang across the deck, and, by such light as the stars made, beheld Antonio in the act of getting on to his legs. “Mind! He may have a knife!” shouted Teach. The Spaniard, uttering a malediction, whipped a blade from a sheath that lay strapped to his hip, and flung it upon the deck. The point of the weapon pierced the plank, and the knife stood upright. “I am no assassin! I do not draw knives upon men!” cried Antonio. “Who knocked this man down?” I demanded. “I--Vertz. “You are a bully and a ruffian. This is a shipwrecked man, scarce recovered from great sufferings. He is half your size, too.” “He talked of his share, Heer Fielding, und my bloodt poiled. We safe his life, he eats und drinks, und der toyfil has der impudence to talk of his share!” “Forward there! What is wrong?” cried the voice of Greaves. “Where is Mr. Fielding?” “Here, sir.” “What is wrong, I am asking.” “Come aft to the captain, the three of you,” said I; and I led the way. All hands were on deck at this hour. The forecastle was roasting, and the watch below lay about the forward part of the decks. The whole crew, therefore, heard the noise, were drawn by it, and followed me as I went aft, Teach loitering in my wake to tell those who brought up the rear that “the blooming Spaniard was swearing he’d a right to a share of the dollars, and that he was bragging as how he meant to spend his money in Madrid on onions and figs, when he was brought up with a round turn by Yonny Vertz’s fist.” It is strange that unto the eye of memory the picture which the brig at this hour made should stand the most clearly cut, the most sharply defined of all my recollections of her. Why is this? Because, perhaps, of the accentuation that night scene took from the shadowy heap of the men assembled upon the quarter-deck, from the quarrel beside the caboose, from the significance that must come into any sort of difficulty aboard us from the treasure in the lazarette. The sails soared dark and still in the weak night-wind; a brook-like bubbling noise of water rose from under the bows; the vessel was steeped in the dye of the night; but there was a faint shining in the air round about the illuminated binnacle, and a dim sheen hovered over the cabin skylight. The sea sloped vast and flat to the scintillant wall of the sky. The voices of the men deepened upon the ear the silence out upon the ocean. It was a night to set the mind running upon that saying and realizing it: “And darkness was upon the face of the deep; and the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.” “What’s wrong?” said Greaves. The shapeless figure of Bol came trudging from the neighborhood of the wheel to listen. “There’s been some sort of discussion between Wirtz and Antonio,” said I, “and Wirtz knocked the Spaniard down.” “Captain,” exclaimed Wirtz, “all hands likes to know if der Spaniards you safe shares in der dollars?” “Who began the row?” said Greaves.