One day two men were talking together, apparently on very good terms. One of them we saw pull a dice-box out of his pocket, with several gold and silver coins; the other likewise produced his money. They began to play—at first laughing in a friendly way at the various turns of their fortunes. Then the laughter ceased, and they grew more earnest and intent on the game. One looked very triumphant, as the gold lately owned by his antagonist began to swell his heap. At last the other had no money left. He produced a watch, a clasp-knife and several jewels, a golden crucifix (which he kissed before parting with), and a silver-mounted pistol. His teeth were firm set; his eyes began to roll. He played on. Again he lost; but he had nothing wherewith to pay. He turned his pockets inside out. The winner seemed still to be insisting on payment. A deadly pallor came over the countenance of the loser. He sprang to his feet; a sailor was passing, with a long knife stuck in his red sash; he snatched it from the man, and uttering an exclamation equivalent to “Have at you, then! take all I have to give!” plunged it up to the hilt in the body of the winner, who fell to the deck without a groan. The action brought all those on deck around him. “He insulted me,” he exclaimed; “he won all I had, and then asked for more.” The bystanders seemed to acquiesce in the justness and rightfulness of the action. They did not attempt to touch the murderer, but they lifted up the body of the man he had wounded. He was already quite dead. None of the officers attempted to interfere. The murderer searched in the pockets of his victim for the money and jewels, and counting out the coin, took possession of what had been his own. Again with blasphemous mockery he kissed the cross, evidently believing that he was doing a righteous action, and then sat down on a gun with folded arms, as if he had been an unconcerned spectator of the scene which was enacting. The rest of the dead man’s property the pirates distributed among themselves, and then lifting the body to the side of the vessel, without an expression of regret threw it into the sea.
The tragedy was over, but the countenance of the murdered man haunted us, while his murderer continued walking with an unconcerned look about the deck, as if his hands were perfectly innocent of blood.
“Jerry,” said I, “the sooner we are out of this, though even on a desert island, the better.”
“Oh yes, Harry; it is not safe to live with such wretches,” was the answer.
It would be better if men remembered at all times that it is not good to dwell with sinners.
Chapter Sixteen.
Our perilous voyage.
As we emerged from our cabin one morning, we found that the schooner was standing toward what appeared to be a fleet of vessels at anchor.