nd uneasy, but I pushed on:

"The French and hurricanes between them have done much to wreck this
island's chances. Matters, however, are more hopeful now. Dominica
abounds in sulphur springs, and vast sulphurous accumulations occur
inland. Even the bed of the River Roseau is not free from these volcanic
outbursts. Formerly the place produced very famous and high-class
coffee, but this cultivation was ruined by an insect pest. Now, you
shall find that sugar-cane, cocoa, and limejuice are the principal
products. The manioc root, of which cassava bread is made, also grows
abundantly here, and basket work is rather an important industry too. In
the year 1881, there were still a hundred and seventy-three pure
aboriginal Caribs left in Dominica, but they have not been counted
lately. I don't fancy they like it. The port of the isle is Roseau,
named after the river. We shall presently anchor off this town. I don't
know that there is anything more to say."

[Illustration: "THE FOURTH OFFICER LOOKED STARTLED AND UNEASY."]

Then I looked at the Fourth Officer inquiringly. He was evidently hurt.
He said:

"No, I don't fancy that there is anything more to say." Then he shook
his head rather reproachfully, and walked off to the other end of the
ship. In fact, he went as far away from me as he possibly could without
getting into the sea. I felt sorry, and followed him, and begged him to
tell me about his younger days, when he was an apprentice, and first
sailed the ocean. This cheered him up, and he recounted a mad freak off
Cape Horn by night. It happened that another sailing ship was following
his vessel, so he and a friend began hanging out signal lamps to her,
and waving green and blue and yellow and crimson lights over the stern
of their ship. The approaching barque stood this display for some time,
and then, probably under the impression she was running into a chemist's
shop, grew frightened, and changed her course, and was no more seen. Our
Fourth Officer, I should think rightly, regards this as one of his
happiest efforts.

The Doctor has already arranged a programme for Roseau. One Podbury
dwells there, and this Podbury brews the best rum punch in the West
Indies. The Doctor knows and esteems him. My brother is also familiar
with the Bishop of Dominica, and says that he is a genial, lovable
Irishman of admirable parts, and the best company in the world. It is
agreed, therefore, that we first call upon the Bishop, then