not exactly put faith in his account, I began to wish we had been bound
elsewhere. The boatswain saw Spellman listening with mouth agape.

"Hot, I believe you," he continued; "did you ever sit on a red-hot
gridiron with your feet under the grate, your head in the fire, and your
fists in boiling water? If you ever did, you'll have some notion of
what you'll have to go through in the dog-days out in those parts."

"Oh dear, oh dear," exclaimed Spellman: "why we shall all be downright
roasted."

"I've a notion there's some one being roasted now," observed Mr
Johnson, with a wink and a curl of his nose. "Roasted! Oh dear no: all
we've to do, is to sit up to our necks in casks of water, and bob our
heads under every now and then. To be sure, there is a fear that we may
all turn into blackamoors, but that is nothing when a man gets
accustomed to it. I don't see why a dark skin should not be as good as
a white one. Though they don't all talk the same lingo, they've as much
sense in their woolly heads as white men, that's my opinion; and so,
young gentlemen, when you get among them out there, just treat them as
if they were of the same nature as yourselves, and you'll find that they
will behave well to you, and will be faithful and true."

Mr Johnson's remarks were interrupted by the appearance of Toby Bluff,
who came to summon him on deck. Blue Peter was flying from aloft. In
ten minutes afterwards the capstan-bars were manned, the merry pipe was
heard, and, a sturdy gang of our crew tramping round, the anchor was
hove up, the topsails were let fall, and away the Doris once more glided
over the wide sea towards the far west. We had a rapid passage without
meeting an enemy; indeed, scarcely a sail hove in sight. We made Saint
Thomas's, and stood across the Caribbean Sea towards Jamaica. Hot it
was, but not so hot as Mr Johnson had led us to expect.

"Wait a bit," he remarked. "It's now winter; just let us see what the
summer will be like."

We were not destined to enter Port Royal. We had been making good
progress towards it, when three sail were seen from the mast-head. As
enemies of all nations just then swarmed in every direction, it was more
likely that we should have to fight, than that we should meet with
friends. The strangers approached. There were three ships not smaller
than frigates certainly, perhaps larger. Still we knew that Captain
Collyer would not dream of running away while there was a