They now fell to disputing in regard to the fate of the survivors, who lay not more than four paces off, and could distinguish every word said.
Upon some of the mutineers the liquor appeared to have a softening effect, for several voices were heard in favor of releasing the captives altogether, on condition of joining the mutiny and sharing the profits.
The black cook, however (who in all respects was a perfect demon, and who seemed to exert as much influence, if not more, than the mate himself), would listen to no proposition of the kind, and rose repeatedly for the purpose of resuming his work at the gangway.
Fortunately he was so far overcome by intoxication as to be easily restrained by the less bloodthirsty of the party, among whom was a line-manager, who went by the name of Dirk Peters.

This man was the son of an Indian squaw of the tribe of Upsarokas, who live among the fastnesses of the Black Hills, near the source of the Missouri.

His father was a fur-trader, I believe, or at least connected in some manner with the Indian trading-posts on Lewis river.

Peter himself was one of the most ferocious-looking men I ever beheld.

He was short in stature, not more than four feet eight inches high, but his limbs were of Herculean mould.