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 Salvé 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 Salvé perceived, directly the
man came on deck again, that a fresh trial of strength was inevitable.

An opportunity was not long in offering, and Salvé 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 Salvé, 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
Salvé'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 Salvé, who flew at him like
a tiger-cat. The crew gathered round. The Irishman seized a heavy iron
pump-handle as a weapon, and Salvé a handspike; and Salvé 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, Salvé was far from being the equal of