Golding cries out for vengeance; and the men fire till every savage has disappeared. We return on board. It strikes me that we cannot appear very well favoured in the sight of these poor savages. I say as much that day at dinner to the captain. He is a man of few words. "You are right, John; the next comers will suffer," he remarks. "That matters nought to us," says Phineas Golding. "We shall not come here again." "Scant kindness to the next comers; as scant as that we have showed the natives," I observe. "We must all look out for ourselves in these seas," says the captain. "It will be our own fault if we are at any time caught unawares. Remember that, Master Harvey." I make no answer, for the captain does not bear contradiction. The first mate, Golding, and the doctor, keep always well with him. So do I, for this reason: I heard him once say, "That John Harvey needs keeping under." On that, I resolved, as far as it should lie in my power, to keep myself under--to do my duty, and give him no occasion to find fault. Thus far I have succeeded--but not always with ease; for Simon Fuller has had uncontrolled power as a sea captain for many a long year, often over rogues and vagabonds, whom fear alone will keep in order, so he fancies. I have heard say that the rule of kindness will work wonders. I have never seen it tried as I could desire, but I find that the worst of our ship's company obey me more readily than they do James Festing, and yet the first mate is an older, and, I truly believe, a better seaman than I am. I speak quietly to the lads, eschew oaths, and never handle a rope's end in wrath. He swears loudly, and uses both.