ing over his left shoulder, after the
fashion of the Mediterranean seamen; a round Turkish skull-cap,
handsomely embroidered; a pair of pistols, and a long knife in his sash,
completed his attire.

The crew consisted in all of 165 men, of almost every nation; but it was
to be remarked that all those in authority were either Englishmen or
from the northern countries; the others were chiefly Spaniards and
Maltese. Still there were Portuguese, Brazilians, negroes, and others,
who made up the complement, which at the time we now speak of was
increased by twenty-five additional hands. These were Kroumen, a race
of blacks well known at present, who inhabit the coast near Cape Palmas,
and are often employed by our men-of-war stationed on the coast to
relieve the English seamen from duties which would be too severe to
those who were not inured to the climate. They are powerful, athletic
men, good sailors, of a happy, merry disposition, and, unlike other
Africans, will work hard. Fond of the English, they generally speak the
language sufficiently to be understood, and are very glad to receive a
baptism when they come on board. The name first given them they usually
adhere to as long as they live; and you will now on the coast meet with
a Blucher, a Wellington, a Nelson, etcetera, who will wring swabs, or do
any other of the meanest description of work, without feeling that it is
discreditable to sponsorials so grand.

It is not to be supposed that these men had voluntarily come on board of
the pirate; they had been employed in some British vessels trading on
the coast, and had been taken out of them when the vessels were burnt,
and the Europeans of the crews murdered. They had received a promise of
reward, if they did their duty; but, not expecting it, they waited for
the earliest opportunity to make their escape.

The captain of the schooner is abaft with his glass in his hand,
occasionally sweeping the offing in expectation of a vessel heaving in
sight: the officers and crew are lying down, or lounging listlessly,
about the decks, panting with the extreme heat, and impatiently waiting
for the sea-breeze to fan their parched foreheads. With their rough
beards and exposed chests, and their weather-beaten fierce countenances,
they form a group which is terrible even in repose.

We must now descend into the cabin of the schooner. The fittings-up of
this apartment are simple: on each side is a standing bed-place; against