a
civilised port, where the authorities could interfere; but that, if they
consented to join and aid him, he would now give them the whole of it
for their own use.

What will not the desire of gain effect? Is it therefore to be wondered
at, that these men, who were indeed but little better than those who
were thus in his desire of retaliation, denounced by Philip, consented
to his proposal? It was agreed, that if they did not gain the shore,
the others should be attacked that very night, and tossed into the sea.

But the consultation with Philip had put the other party on the alert;
they too held council, and kept their arms by their sides. As the
breeze died away, they were not two miles from the land, and once more
they drifted back into the ocean. Philip's mind was borne down with
grief at the loss of Amine; but it recovered to a certain degree when he
thought of revenge: that feeling stayed him up, and he often felt the
edge of his cutlass, impatient for the moment of retribution.

It was a lovely night; the sea was now smooth as glass, and not a breath
of air moved in the heavens; the sail of the raft hung listless down the
mast, and was reflected upon the calm surface by the brilliancy of the
starry night alone. It was a night for contemplation--for examination
of oneself, and adoration of the Deity; and here, on's frail raft, were
huddled together more than forty beings, ready for combat, for murder,
and for spoil. Each party pretended to repose; yet each were quietly
watching the motions of the other, with their hands upon their weapons.
The signal was to be given by Philip: it was, to let go the halyards of
the yard, so that the sail should fall down upon a portion of the other
party, and entangle them. By Philip's directions, Schriften had taken
the helm, and Krantz remained by his side.

The yard and sail fell clattering down, and then the work of death
commenced; there was no parley, no suspense; each man started upon his
feet and raised his sword. The voices of Philip and of Krantz alone
were heard, and Philip's sword did its work. He was nerved to his
revenge, and never could be satiated as long as one remained who had
sacrificed his Amine. As Philip had expected, many had been covered up
and entangled by the falling of the sail, and their work was thereby
made easier.

Some fell where they stood: others reeled back, and sunk down under the
smooth water; others were pierced as they floundere