I had ordered a hand whom I could trust to steer, while I became engaged in physically reproving this blackguard for his insolence and disobedience to lawful commands.  During my struggle with him I felt a sharp prick as though a pin had been run into me, but owing to the excitement of the moment I took no further notice of it—­indeed, I was too busy to notice anything.  The job did not prove so difficult as I had anticipated.  His accomplices did not come to his assistance, and he evidently lost heart and became effusively submissive.  The captain relieved me at midnight, and I returned to my berth.  I was awakened during the watch by some one tapping at my door.  It turned out to be the captain.  When I admitted him he showed me a knife which he had picked up on the deck, and asked if I knew whom it belonged to.  I said “Yes, it belongs to the Irishman.”  “Well,” said he, “it was evidently his intention to bleed you.”  I was sitting up in my bunk, and suddenly observed a clot of blood on my shirt, and said to him, “I have been stabbed.  Look at this.”  I examined myself, and found a slight cut where I had felt the sensation which I have spoken of.  We conferred as to whether he should be put in irons, and given up to the authorities at the first port the vessel touched at.  I asked to be allowed to deal with him when he came on deck, and it was agreed that I should.  He was in due course ordered aft, and the knife shown to him.  When asked if it was his, he became afflicted with fear, and admitted that he had attempted to stab me, and begged that he should not be further punished, and if he were allowed to resume his duty he promised with emotional profusion to give no further annoyance to any one.  The appeal was pathetic; it would have been an act of vindictive cruelty not to have granted what he asked; though his conduct in conjunction with the others had up to that time been vicious in the extreme.  It was thought desirable to give his promises a test, with the result that he gave no outward signs of violating them while the voyage lasted.

These men were mutineers by profession.  Sentiment, or what is called moral suasion, was unintelligible to them.  They were a species of wild beast that could only be tamed by the knowledge that they were weaker than the power set over them; and this could only be conveyed in one way that was understandable to them:  that is, by coming down to their level for the time being, and smashing their courage (and their heads if need be) with electrical suddenness.  If there was any hesitation, depend upon it they would smash you.  The moralist will declaim against the adoption of such a doctrine, and will bring theoretic arguments in support of his theories; but before commencing a tirade against an unavoidable method, perhaps the moralist will state whether he has ever been confronted with a situation which might involve not only the unlawful absorption of supreme control, but the sacrifice of life and valuable property as a consequence of