"We fell in with several vessels on the voyage, all of which we outsailed but one. It was an English eighteen-gun brig, that beat us fairly going free, and kept way so well with us on a wind, that the captain beat to quarters, piped the hammocks up, triced up the boarding nettings, and saw all clear for action. He had continued very kind to me throughout the voyage, giving me a cot in his own cabin; but he was, notwithstanding, morose and melancholy, seldom mixing much even with his own officers; on the occasion of our being chased, however, his eye lightened, his brow smoothed and expanded, and his whole features expressed a joy, mixed with the sternest determination, that I had never seen them wear before. And this increased as our chance of escape diminished; for when he finally saw that the sloop was forereaching on us, and most probably would weather us next tack, he became absolutely frantic with delight, and walked rapidly about the deck, laughing and rubbing his hands, to the unutterable surprise of the trembling crew, who were grouped at quarters, staring one moment in fear and dread at the enemy, who was jamming them up in the wind, and the next at their extraordinary captain. "'What can he mean?' said they--'_he_ will be hanged if we are taken--_he_ runs more risk than we do--what cause of joy can _he_ have?' No one could answer the question. "The Englishman had trained, as carefully and fully as time would admit during the voyage, about fifty Corromantee negroes, the bravest race of all Central Africa, to the guns, and he now suddenly desired them to be piped on deck, and sent to quarters. Jose Ribas, the superseded mate of the polacre, demurred to this, and the grumbling amongst the crew increased. 'Why bring the negroes on deck, captain?' said he--'our game is to confine our endeavours to trying to escape, and not to fight; you must be aware, if it comes to blows, that we have no chance with that English sloop of war down to leeward there.' "The man he spoke to, at this turned round on him with the most withering and hellish expression of countenance that I ever beheld. 'I did not _ask_ to command this polacre--you know I did not--but now since I have taken that unsought-for task upon me, it is not in a moment like the present that I will resign it.' "There was a pause, during which the captain had turned from the Spaniard, and resumed his walk on the quarterdeck. As he turned, seeing him still there, he walked close up to him, and made a dead stop. "'Forward to your station, Jose Ribas,' he sung out loud and savagely, after having glared at him like an enraged tiger, for nearly a minute without speaking, and drawing a pistol from his belt, he cocked it, 'or, by the God that made me, I will send this bullet through your cowardly heart.'