The Irishman was confined to his hammock the whole week with wound-fever, and Salve had for the first time won the respect of the crew.  He felt at the same time that he had commenced a desperate struggle, and that if he was to enjoy any sort of security in this company of ruffians whom he had now set at defiance, he must take the game into his own hands, and make himself at least as much feared as the Irishman had been.  Accordingly, instead of waiting to be challenged, he deliberately became the aggressor, and set himself to dispense justice as he pleased.

The one who, next to the Irishman, was most dreaded, was a broad-shouldered mulatto, who carried on a petty system of pillage against any one that was not supported, unluckily for him, by any party; and Salve himself had been obliged one evening to put up with having his hammock taken down, and the mulatto’s hung in its place.  He had seen him in several fights, and had observed his peculiar tactics; the result of his observations being the conviction that the man had not the strength which he was anxious to make the others think he had.  In pursuance of this policy, he had picked a quarrel with him on the head of that matter of the hammock, and with a similarly decisive result.  The mulatto rejoiced in the name of Januarius, and Salve accordingly requested him to remember that there was something still owing to him for the eleven other months of the year.  He was a cur by nature, and never seemed to have the slightest desire to renew the struggle afterwards, which was not the case with the Irishman, with whom Salve perceived, directly the man came on deck again, that a fresh trial of strength was inevitable.

An opportunity was not long in offering, and Salve seized it at once, so that the challenge might come from him.  The Irishman had taken a fancy to the boots of the wretched Spaniard who was ill, and was now wearing them.

“Irishman,” said Salve, as the other passed him, when they were lounging about after dinner, “that is an awkward pair of boots you have on there.  If you take my advice you’ll return them to their owner, or—­I shall have to pull them off you.”

The Irishman glared at him, but turned pale at the last threat; and Salve’s eye seemed to light up at the prospect of carrying it out.  The former made the mistake of preparing to defend himself instead of taking the aggressive, and in a moment was knocked down and stunned for an instant by a couple of unexpected blows from Salve, who flew at him like a tiger-cat.  The crew gathered round.  The Irishman seized a heavy iron pump-handle as a weapon, and Salve a handspike; and Salve kept his word.  He pulled the boots off as the other lay senseless on the deck, and took them down to the Spaniard.

In point of physical strength, Salve was far from being the equal of many of these men, who, he knew very well, were now only looking out for an occasion to get the better of him.  His only chance was to take the initiative on all occasions, and to seem the most reckless and the most careless of life, and the most eager to fight of them all.  He therefore flew at his man without hesitation on the slightest provocation, and whenever he threatened took care to keep his word.