this island. The Captain
is a Spaniard, a short man with a remarkable good face, that nobody
would suspect to belong to such a gang. The Lieutenant is a
Frenchman, a creole of St. Domingo, but called himself an Italian.
The man they called Davis, who ordered me to be hanged, is the pilot
or sailing master, and their boarding officer. He is an American,
belongs to New-York, and was the worst man on board. He is a
good looking fellow, something perhaps over the middle size, but the
most brutal rascal I ever met. There was another American on board,
only a common hand, being a drunkard.--Two negroes are all the
residue of the gentlemen with whom I had much acquaintance.

The goods taken from us were upwards of fifty thousand dollars
worth, and I have no doubt are landed on the coast of this Island.
The neighborhood of Cuba will be troubled waters until our
government shall seriously determine to put down this system of
piracy.

Akin to this subject it may be proper to record an incident which many
years ago concerned myself, and might have been tragical in its result.
In the month of February, 1854, it fell to my lot to sail out of Boston
harbor for Malta, aboard the bark _Sylph_, of Liverpool, Nova Scotia. At
that period vessels sailing under the English flag were known in this
country as _lime-juicers_, so called because in the British navy the
consumption of lime or lemon juice was enforced as an anti-scorbutic
remedy. The only other passenger beside myself was Gen. William A.
Aiken, now of Norwich, Connecticut. The vessel was in command of Captain
Roberts, of Liverpool; and the first officer was Mr. Hicks, and the
second officer, Mr. Wharton. According to my recollection there were
eight in the forecastle, which number, together with the cook and
steward, made up a complement of fourteen persons, all told, aboard the
bark. The cook and steward were represented by a single person of
African descent, who prided himself both on his hair and his cooking, as
well as on his brotherly kinship to the self-styled rival of Jenny Lind,
who was then called the "Black Swan" (Elizabeth Taylor Greenfield), a
singer, well-known in her day. His hair deserves a word of special note,
as it was sometimes closely associated with his cooking, inasmuch as its
elaborate dressing was done before a glass hanging just beside a stove
in the cook's galley. He generally kept his long woo