The constant strain upon his energy became at last like a fever in his blood, and the life he was leading began to show itself in his face.  He had come to be reckoned on board as one of those stubborn, unruly spirits that are common enough among the dregs of humanity to be met with in ships’ holds in that quarter of the globe, and who usually end their career at the yard-arm, or by a bullet from the captain’s revolver.  In this very ship, before they came into Rio, at the time the Irishman had been put in irons, the captain had, without any hesitation, shot down from the yard one of the crew, whom he supposed to be the ringleader of the mutineers.  He looked upon Salve now with increasing distrust, wondering how he could ever have been so mistaken in a man as he had been in him.  “But put a man to herd with rabble, and it’s hard for him not to become one of them,” he said; and, deteriorated though he was, Salve was still the smartest sailor he had on board.

The boatswain kept out of his way now as much as possible, for he had heard that Salve had sworn to tear his entrails out if he gave him any fresh cause for offence.  The latter knew very well, though, that he was meditating something against him, and was not surprised therefore at being called aft one day to stand a formal trial before the captain for the expression which he had used with regard to the boatswain, and which he did not affect to deny, “as the boatswain,” he said, “had wished to take his life.”

“I mean to leave the ship,” he said, “the moment we come to Valparaiso.  I am only engaged so far.  But, indeed, I care little what becomes of me,” he ended, gloomily.

The captain probably had his own notions with regard to the boatswain, as Salve escaped the severe punishment he had expected, and was only condemned to solitary confinement for fourteen days on bread-and-water.

“That will take you down a bit, my lad,” said the captain.

The boatswain, however, made up for the leniency of his superior by a little ingenuity of his own; and every day, when Salve was enjoying his meagre fare in his place of confinement, the mulatto, whom he had triumphed over, by the boatswain’s orders, took his dinner of hot meat and ate it outside the door, close to the hole through which the light was admitted, that the savoury smell might make its way in and tantalise him.

At first, Salve rather enjoyed the repose which his confinement afforded him; but as his hunger increased he grew irritable, and at dinner-time one day he approached his face to the opening.

“Mulatto!” he began; and the other looked up and grinned with his white teeth, pleased to see some sign at last that his attentions had not been thrown away—­“that’s good food you have there.”

“Excellent,” replied the other, mischievously, and with an inward chuckle.

“It makes me picture to myself your future,” Salve continued, placidly, “how it will be with you when I come out again.  You will be like that lobscouse, my friend.  Had that never occurred to you?”