"Go to hell!" growled the Nigger. A great rage fell on them all, blind and terrible, like that leading to the slaughter of the seals. They fought indiscriminately, hitting at each other with fists and knives. It was difficult to tell who was against whom. The sound of heavy breathing, dull blows, the tear of cloth; and grunts of punishment received; the swirl of the sand, the heave of struggling bodies, all riveted my attention, so that I did not see Captain Ezra Selover until he stood almost at my elbow. "Stop!" he shrieked in his high, falsetto voice. And would you believe it, even through the blood haze of their combat the men heard him, and heeded. They drew reluctantly apart, got to their feet, stood looking at him through reeking brows half submissive and half defiant. The bull-headed Thrackles even took a half step forward, but froze in his tracks when Old Scrubs looked at him. "I hire you men to fight when I tell you to, and only then," said the captain sternly. "What does this mean?" He menaced them one after another with his eyes, and one after another they quailed. All their plottings, their threats, their dangerousness dissipated like mist before the command of this one resolute man. These pirates who had seemed so dreadful to me, now were nothing more than cringing schoolboys before their master. And then suddenly to my horror I, watching closely, saw the captain's eye turn blank. I am sure the men must have felt the change, though certainly they were too far away to see it, for they shifted by ever so little from their first frozen attitude. The captain's hand sought his pocket, and they froze again, but instead of the expected revolver, he produced a half-full brandy bottle. The change in his eyes had crept into his features. They had turned foolishly amiable, vacant, confiding. "'llo boys," said he appealingly, "you good fellowsh, ain't you? Have a drink. 'S good stuff. Good ol' bottl'," he lurched, caught himself, and advanced toward them, still with the empty smile. They stared at him for ten seconds, quite at a loss. Then: "By God, he's drunk!" Handy Solomon breathed, scarcely louder than a whisper. There was no other signal given. They sprang as with a single impulse. One instant I saw clear against the waning daylight the bulky, foolish-swaying form of Captain Selover: the next it had disappeared, carried down and obliterated by the rush of attacking bodies. Knives gleamed ruddy in the sunset. There was no struggle. I heard a deep groan. Then the murderers rose slowly to their feet. XIII I MAKE MY ESCAPE