We were so slender a company in that brig that I was often put to the wheel; I never regularly stood a trick, as sailors say; when they were all wanted I steered till one of them relieved me. I went to the helm to send Collins on the deck-house top that Will might get his supper. As I quitted the cabin Bates and Tom went to Rotch’s berth. There was some noise in the wind at this hour; the breeze blew fresh, the short seas ran sharp and burst shrilly, the race of foam on either hand sent up a note of boiling, there was much merry whistling in the rigging, and a faint small thunder of wind sweeping out of the hollows through the curved foot of the sails. So it happened that I could hear but little of what passed in the cabin. The wheel was small; I gripped it strongly; I put my mind into the binnacle-stand and watched the card very earnestly, that the brig should not run away with me. Twenty minutes might thus have passed when I heard noises that rose high above the sound of the sea and the cries in the rigging. Will shouted, ‘Marian, there’s murder doing!’ I dared not let go of the wheel lest the vessel should broach to and lose her spars. I shrieked with all my might to Collins, who came running headlong down the steps. ‘Take the helm,’ I cried, and I sprang through the cabin-door. At that instant Tom and Bates came out of Rotch’s berth. The mate turned the key and thrust his shoulder against the door to make sure all was fast. Tom held a handkerchief to his jaw. He removed it to look at it; it was stained with blood. ‘What has happened?’ I called out. ‘He jumped upon me, threw me down, and his teeth met in my cheek--a true hound of hounds, a very dog of very dogs,’ said Tom. I drew his hand from his face and witnessed the marks of a severe bite above the right jaw; a little blood flowed. ‘It is nothing at all,’ said he. ‘But how consistent is his trick of fighting with the nature of the animal!’ I hastened to the galley for some warm water, carefully bathed the wound, and bound it up. Mr. Bates, whose face was very pale, had gone on deck to look after the brig; he now returned and found Tom at the table with his face swathed. ‘Has the villain gone mad?’ said I. ‘Butler,’ said the mate, ‘the sight of you and your talking to him drove him mad. I feared it. That man’ll never confess.’ ‘He’ll hang then,’ said Tom in a fierce, muttering voice.