Tuesday morning, however, saw us again opposite Sandy Bay, and at nine o’clock I hove-to off the harbor, by Cambiaso’s orders. The boat was then cleared away ready for lowering, and some of the men were ordered to go ashore to bring off some provisions which had been left behind; but they, perhaps mistrusting Cambiaso’s intentions, and fearing that they would be abandoned, as their companions had been at Wood’s Bay, refused to land, declaring that they saw some Indians prowling about the barracks. I saw, by the help of my spy-glass, that what they took, or pretended to take for Indians, were only barrels and stumps of trees, but I prudently said nothing. Cambiaso stormed and threatened, but the men were stubborn and immovable, and Garcia again interfering, he sullenly ordered me to proceed, and retired to his state-room. That evening I anchored under Cape Gregory. Towards ten o’clock, when the night watch was set, and all was quiet on the vessel, Mr. Dunn and myself were sent for to Cambiaso’s state-room. Mr. Dunn had of late always been called upon to accompany me when Cambiaso sent for me to deliver orders; my broken Spanish seeming to irritate him, and Mr. Dunn serving as interpreter to render my orders more clear to me. Cambiaso received us very cordially, asked us to be seated, and began by expressing himself very well satisfied with the skill I had shown in navigating the vessel. He was even jocose, asking me if I was a good shot with a pistol, since he had an idea of fighting a duel with me; then, pointing to a bottle of champaigne which stood on the table, he said, “That is the pistol I mean we shall exchange shots with;” and drawing the cork, he made us both drink with him. Then turning to Mr. Dunn, he said, “My good friend Sir Captain is troubled about the rascals I left at Wood’s Bay; he does not know, as you and I do, that there’s only one way to get along with such men. They are devils, and nothing is too hard for them. One must take care of himself in this world.” Mr. Dunn told him that I had hesitated about putting out from the harbor because the night was so murky, and the navigation intricate; and that I was afraid of running the vessel on the shore. Cambiaso shook his head: “No, no; you are both of you tender-hearted as women. I suppose you would be frightened now, if you saw blood shed, but one can’t always get along without it.” I answered that I could fight as well as another man, when I saw need for it; but that I did not like leaving the English mate and crew, nor even _his_ followers to starve, or fall into the hands of the Indians. This made him laugh heartily; but suddenly changing the subject, he asked me if I had a wife and children. “Yes,” I said, “in my own country.” “How many little ones?” he rejoined; “and I suppose you would like to see them again? Well, you must do without that for some time yet; but if you will follow my orders, you shall go home with money enough to stay with them always.”