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on't you see that yellow devil's murdering him? He looks more than half dead already!" Tim Rooney hereupon stepped forwards; but Ching Wang did not need any force to compel him to quit his powerless foe. Disengaging his pigtail from Pedro's limp fingers, he arose with a sort of native dignity from his prostrate position over the Portuguese, his round face all one bland smile--although it bore sundry scratches on its otherwise smooth surface, whose oiliness had probably saved it from greater hurt. "Him no sabbey," he exclaimed, pointing down to the still prostrate Pedro, who, now that the Chinaman's grip had been released from his throat, began to show signs of returning life, "what me can do. Him more wanchee, Ching Wang plenty givee chop chop!" "I tell ye what, me joker," cried "Old Jock" after him as the victorious cook retired into his galley on making this short speech, with all the honours of war--the hands raising a cheer, which the presence of the captain could not drown, at the result of the encounter; for all of them looked on the steward as one opposed to their interests, and who cheated them in their provisions when serving them out, regarding the Chinaman, on the other hand, as their friend and ally, he always taking their part in this respect. "I tell ye what, me joker, I'll stop your wages and make ye pay for my fowls when we get to Shanghai! I don't mind your basting the steward, for a thrashing will do him good, as he has wanted one for some time; but I do mind your knocking those fine birds of mine about with your confounded `one piecee cock-fightee.' Look at this one, now; he's fit for nothing but the pot, and the sooner you cook him the better." Ching Wang only smiled more blandly than ever as the captain, who had picked up the two cocks, flung the silver and gold one into the galley, taking the other aft and restoring it to its coop; while Pedro, rising presently to his feet, amidst the grins of the men around, sneaked after "Old Jock," saying never a word but looking by no means amiable. His departure ended the incident of the morning, and we immediately finished sluicing the decks, the cook and steward fight having somewhat delayed this operation, as it was getting on for "eight bells" and nearly breakfast-time. Towards noon, on the same day, we passed by the island of Tristan da Cunha, the land bearing on our port quarter sou'-west by south when seen; and, on the thirteenth day
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