aught, if not
friendship, at least, a certain respect, springing from fear; and,
instead of continuing his jealous rivalry towards the English sailor, Le
Gros had resigned himself to occupy a secondary place on the slaver, and
transferred his spite to the representative of the Emerald Isle.

More than once, slight collisions had occurred between them,--in which
the Frenchman, gifted with greater cunning, had managed to come off
victorious. But there had never arisen any serious matter to test the
strength of the two men to that desperate strife, of which death might
be the ending. They had generally fought shy of each other; the
Frenchman from a latent fear of his adversary,--founded, perhaps, on
some suspicion of powers not yet exhibited by him, and which might be
developed in a deadly struggle,--the Irishman from a habitude, not very
common among his countrymen, of being little addicted to quarrelling.
He was, on the contrary, a man of peaceful disposition, and of few
words,--also a rare circumstance, considering that his name was Larry
O'Gorman.

There were some good traits in the Irishman's character. Perhaps we
have given the best. In comparison with the Frenchman, he might be
described as an angel; and, compared with the other wretches on the
raft, he was, perhaps, the _least bad_: for the word _best_ could not,
with propriety, be applied to anyone of that motley crew.

Personally, the two men were unlike as could well be. While the
Frenchman was black and bearded, the Irishman was red and almost
beardless. In size, however, they approximated nearer to each other,--
both being men of large stature. Both had been stout,--almost
corpulent.

Neither could be so described as they assisted at that solemn ceremonial
that was to devote one or other of them to a doom--in which their
_condition_ was a circumstance of significant interest to those who were
to survive them.

Both were shrunken in shape, with their garments hanging loosely around
their bodies, their eyes sunk in deep cavities, their cheek-bones
prominently protruding, their breasts flat and fleshless, the ribs
easily discernible,--in short, they appeared more like a pair of
skeletons, covered with shrivelled skin, than breathing, living men.
Either was but ill-adapted for the purpose to which dire necessity was
about to devote one or other of them.

Of the two, Le Gros appeared the less attenuated. This may have arisen
from the fact of his gre