Less than half a minute had gone since the report of {276} the Spencer had startled me into full wakefulness. I had my trousers on, but I had not stopped to button them, trusting to one suspender to hold them in place. I had come up the booby-hatch, a very few feet behind Mr. Snow, and although I was barefoot, I must have made considerable noise; but he was so taken up with his bellowing and flourishing that he did not hear me. I think I might have come through the deck at his very feet and run into him without his being aware of it. I heard quiet stirrings on the cabin ladder and down the booby-hatch, and I knew that the mates and boatsteerers would be on hand in a few seconds; and noises in the cabin told me that Captain Nelson would not be far behind. Mr. Snow’s attention had at last been attracted by a movement behind the mainmast—the man there was so scared that he could not keep still—and he raised his rifle. It was like shooting point-blank at the side of a barn. He might easily hit the man, who had not sense enough to keep behind the mast, but kept popping out. I was upon him in one jump, had him about the body from behind, and was grabbing for the rifle. I was much taller and stronger than when I had tackled Lupo, and Mr. Snow was not the man that Lupo was. Still, I was not prepared for the strength that he showed. Although I succeeded in deflecting the rifle, he managed to discharge it, catching the flesh of my thumb partly under the hammer, making a wound that bothered me for weeks. The bullet ploughed up the deck. Then another pair of arms enveloped him. It was Mr. Macy, and in his arms Mr. Snow was helpless. Then the boatsteerers and the other mates appeared, with the captain just behind them, and I let go my hold and fell back. Mr. Snow was violently insane, there was no doubt about that. He struggled, shouted, and foamed at the mouth. They took him below, and he was kept locked in his cabin for two days, but he made such a row there that nobody could get much sleep. On the second day he {277} succeeded in setting fire to his mattress, which made a great smoke and almost smothered him. The fire was put out and he was resuscitated; but Captain Nelson was forced, for the safety of the ship, to put him in irons and remove him from the cabin. I used to hear his cries and shouts for days, issuing from the bowels of the Clearchus somewhere. Finally they stopped, and I was afraid that he had died; but the steward told me that he was only sulking, and would not say a word, or take any notice of him when he carried food to him. I did not blame Mr. Snow for that, and thought it might be a symptom of returning sanity. The steward was a thoroughly obnoxious little pest and had a special animosity toward Mr. Snow for continuing to live and adding to his work. Poor fellow! I refer to Mr. Snow, and not to the steward. What an unhappy time he must have had ever since we left Cape Town!