Philip discovered from Krantz, that it was the soldiers and the most indifferent seamen who had mutinied on the night before, and cut away the other raft; and that all the best men had remained neuter.

“And so they will be now, I imagine,” continued Krantz; “the prospect of gaining the shore has, in a manner, reconciled them to the treachery of their companions.”

“Probably,” replied Philip, with a bitter laugh; “but I know what will rouse them.  Send them here to me.”

Philip talked to the seamen, whom Krantz had sent over to him.  He pointed out to them that the other men were traitors, not to be relied upon; that they would sacrifice everything and everybody for their own gain; that they had already done so for money, and that they themselves would have no security, either on the raft or on shore, with such people; that they dare not sleep for fear of having their throats cut, and that it were better at once to get rid of those who could not be true to each other; that it would facilitate their escape, and that they could divide between themselves the money which the others had secured, and by which they would double their own shares.  That it had been his intention, although he had said nothing, to enforce the restoration of the money for the benefit of the Company, as soon as they had gained a civilised port, where the authorities could interfere; but that, if they consented to join and aid him, he would now give them the whole of it for their own use.

What will not the desire of gain effect?  Is it, therefore, to be wondered at, that these men, who were indeed but little better than those who were thus, in his desire of retaliation, denounced by Philip, consented to his proposal?  It was agreed, that if they did not gain the shore, the others should be attacked that very night, and tossed into the sea.

But the consultation with Philip had put the other party on the alert; they, too, held council, and kept their arms by their sides.  As the breeze died away, they were not two miles from the land, and once more they drifted back into the ocean.  Philip’s mind was borne down with grief at the loss of Amine; but it recovered to a certain degree when he thought of revenge:  that feeling stayed him up, and he often felt the edge of his cutlass, impatient for the moment of retribution.

It was a lovely night; the sea was now smooth as glass, and not a breath of air moved in the heavens; the sail of the raft hung listless down the mast, and was reflected upon the calm surface by the brilliancy of the starry night alone.  It was a night for contemplation—­for examination of oneself, and adoration of the Deity; and here, on a frail raft, were huddled together more than forty beings ready for combat, for murder, and for spoil.  Each party pretended to repose; yet each were quietly watching the motions of the other, with their hands upon their weapons.  The signal was to be given by Philip:  it was, to let go the halyards of the yard, so that the sail should fall down upon a portion of the other party, and entangle them.  By Philip’s directions, Schriften had taken the helm, and Krantz remained by his side.