hat was the beginning of our troubles. I had to take the old almanac,
with Prendergast, and we figured like Cocker, and always kept ahead with
a month's tables. But somehow,--I feel sure we were right,--but
something was wrong; and after a few weeks the lunars used to come out
in the most beastly way, and we always proved to be on the top of the
Andes or in the Marquesas Islands, or anywhere but in the Atlantic
Ocean. Well then, by good luck, we spoke the Winged Batavian; could not
speak a word of Dutch, nor he a word of English; but he let Ethan copy
his tables, and so we ran for St. Sacrament. I posted 8, 9, and 10
there; I gave the Dutchman 7, which I hope you got, but fear.

Well, this story is running long; but at St. Sacrament we started again,
but, as ill-luck would have it, without a clean bill of health. At that
time I could have run into Bahia with coal--of which I had bought
some--in a week. But there was fever on shore,--and bad,--and I knew we
must make pratique when we came into the outer harbor here; so, rather
than do that, we stretched down the coast, and met that cyclone I wrote
you about, and had to put into Loando. Understand, this was the first
time we went into Loando. I have learned that wretched hole well enough
since. And it was as we were running out of Loando, that, in reversing
the engine too suddenly, lest we should smash up an old Portuguese
woman's bum-boat, that the slides or supports of the piston-rod just
shot out of the grooves they run in on the top, came cleverly down on
the outside of the carriage, gave that odious _g-r-r-r_, which I can
hear now, and then, _dump_,--down came the whole weight of the
walking-beam, bent rod and carriages all into three figure 8's, and
there we were! I had as lief run the boat with a clothes-wringer as with
that engine, any day, from then to now.

Well, we tinkered, and the Portuguese dock-yard people tinkered. We took
out this, and they took out that. It was growing sickly, and I got
frightened, and finally I shipped the propeller and took it on board,
and started under such canvas as we had left,--not much after the
cyclone,--for the North and the South together had rather rotted the
original duck.

Then,--as I wrote you in No. 11,--it was too late to get to Bahia before
that summer's sickly season, and I stretched off to cooler regions
again, "in my best discretion." That was the time when we had the fever
so horribly on board; and but for Wilder