nset from a mission to the city, and as
I formed one of the boat's crew, the mate ordered me to drop the boat
astern, and hook on the tackles that it might be hoisted to the davits.
But the tide running furiously, the boat when under the quarter took a
sudden sheer. I lost my hold on the brig, and found myself adrift.

I shouted lustily for help, but no help could be afforded; the long-boat
being snugly stowed amidships, and the tide sweeping me towards the bar
at the rate of several knots an hour. Sculling was a manoeuvre of which
I had heard, and seen practised, but had never practised myself. I
therefore took one of the oars and made a desperate attempt to PADDLE
towards the brig. The attempt was unsuccessful; the distance between
the brig and the boat was rapidly increasing, darkness was coming on,
a strong breeze was springing up, and I was in a fair way to be drifted
among the breakers, or swept out to sea over the bar!

It happened, fortunately, for me, that a large brig was riding at anchor
within a short distance of the Dolphin. This was the very slaver whose
captain was so mysteriously assassinated. The mate of the brig was
looking around the harbor at the time; he espied my misfortune, and
forthwith despatched a boat, pulled by four men, to my assistance. They
took me in tow, and, after an hour of hard work, succeeded in towing the
boat and myself safely alongside the brig.

I was soundly rated by the mate for my carelessness in allowing the boat
to get adrift, and my shipmates were unsparing in their reproaches
for my ignorance of the important art of sculling. I was completely
crest-fallen; but during the few remaining days we remained in port I
applied myself with zeal to gain a practical knowledge of the art, and
could soon propel a boat through the water with a single oar over the
stern, with as much dexterity as the most accomplished sailor.

A new cable an anchor were brought on board, the wind became favorable,
and the rig Dolphin proceeded to sea, bound NOMINALLY for Cayenne. I
carried with me, engraven on my memory in characters which have never
been effaced, THE ART OR SCULLING A BOAT, and the admonition "NEVER FALL
ASLEEP IN YOUR WATCH!"

Chapter VII. DELIBERATE ROGUERY

After we reached the blue water, and the wind began to blow and the sea
to rise, the old brig, with corresponding motion, tossed and wallowed
about as if for a wager. Although while in port her bottom had been
calked a