That whale led indirectly to an adventure of my own. I have spoken of the practical joke which a green hand tried to play on Black Tony, “The Prince,” as we all called him. The green hand was Lupo, a Portuguese who pulled midship oar in Mr. Brown’s boat, in which the Prince had the bow oar. I do not know the real cause of the attempt, and it is not important, but probably jealousy was at the bottom of it. There was real malice in it, although Lupo meant that it should pass for a joke. It happened just at twilight. I did not see the whole of it, only the Prince standing on the rail, the sharp spade in his hand instinctively raised to strike, his head up, the most utter contempt in his gaze, as he looked down at Lupo from under half-closed eyelids. He reminded me of a tiger, and very probably he reminded Lupo of one, too. {134} Lupo was paralyzed with fear. The Prince smiled slowly and contemptuously, and slowly lowered the spade, but said nothing, and Lupo moved. He passed near me—I was in the shadow of the foremast—muttering curses and threats as he went. After that I was on the watch for them both, and about an hour later I saw them. The Prince seemed to have forgotten Lupo’s existence, but I had not, and I kept in the shadow and watched him closely, as he edged nearer and nearer to the place where the Prince was working. We were trying-out, and everybody was busy. Lupo himself was supposed to be busy. He kept one hand back by his hip—on a knife, as it turned out—and in the other hand he carried either a mincing-knife or a boarding-knife. The light was too poor and uncertain for me to be sure which it was, but either was a formidable weapon. I remember just the feeling I had at the roots of my hair, and the prickling all over my body, and the way I smiled, for I found myself about to leap on him. I did not make up my mind to do it, I simply found that I was going to do it, and I was filled with an exaltation of joy at the knowledge. Call it what you will and explain it how you may, it was pure joy of a kind that I have known many times since, but never equal to that first time.