It was Edward Adkins, first mate and afterwards captain of the ship "Lenore"--the man who had discharged me in New Orleans after the death of Captain Hyland--the man who had accused me of ingratitude and theft! Yes, it was Adkins, my old enemy. I knew that _he_ was a coward of the most contemptible kind, and a bully as well. What I had witnessed of his conduct on the Lenore, during many years' service with him, had fully convinced me of this. A thorough tyrant over the crew, while cringing in the presence of Captain Hyland--who was often compelled to restrain him, from practising his petty spite upon those under his command. It did not need that last interview I had had with him in Liverpool--in the house of Mrs Hyland--to strengthen my belief that Edward Adkins was a despicable poltroon. In answer to the question he had put: "What's a man worth who'll not protect his character?" I walked up to him and said:--"You have no character to protect, and none to lose. You are a cowardly ruffian. You purposely started a quarrel with an inoffensive man; and drew your knife upon him when you knew he was helpless with drink." "Hell and damnation! Are you talking to me?" inquired Adkins, turning sharply round, his face red with rage. But his features suddenly changed to an expression that told me he wished himself anywhere else, than in the presence of the man to whom he had addressed the profane speech. "Yes! I'm talking to you," said I, "and I wish all present to listen to what I say. You are a cowardly wretch, and worse. You have taken the life of a harmless, innocent man, unable to protect himself. You, to talk of resenting an insult, and protecting your character--your character indeed!" Had we two been alone, it is possible that Adkins would not have thought himself called upon to reply to what I had said; but we were in the presence of two score of men, in whose hearing he had just boasted--how he would serve the man who had been slandering him. That man was myself. "Now!" I cried impatient for action, "you hear what I've said! You hear it, all of you?" The bully had been brought to bay. "Gentlemen!" said he, addressing the crowd who had gathered around, "what am I to do? I was driven yesterday to an act I now regret; and here is another man forcing me into a quarrel in the same way. Take my advice," said he, turning to me, "and leave the house, before my blood gets up." "There is not the least danger of your blood getting up," said I; "your heart's gone down into your heels. If I was so drunk, as to be just able to keep my legs, no doubt you would have the courage to attack me. You haven't got it now." The greatest coward in the world can be driven to an exhibition of courage--whether sham or real; and Adkins, seeing that he could no longer in California lay claim to the title of a _dangerous man_, without doing something to deserve it, cried out-- "Damnation! if you want it, you shall have it!"