THE BOATSWAIN’S ADVICE TO HARRY. 25

his gripe, though I do not fear him now.’ - I thanked
the boatswain for his advice. It was given, I sus-
pected, for others’ benefit as well as mine.

As the bright hot red sun rose in the sky,
casting his beams down on our heads, and making
the pitch bubble up from the seams in the deck—as
it had done not unfrequently during the voyage—a
few cats’ paws were seen playing over the mirror-
like deep. The sails bulged out occasionally, again
to hang down as before; then once more they
swelled out with the gentle breeze, and the brigan-
tine glided through the water, gradually increasing
herspeed. I was eagerly looking out for the coast;
at length it came in sight—its distant outline ren-
dered indistinct by the misty pall which hung over
it. As we drew nearer, its forest covered heights
had a particularly gloomy and sombre appearance,
which made me think of the cruelties I had heard
were practised on those shores, of the barbarous
slave trade, of the fearful idolatries of its dark
skinned children, of its wild beasts, and of its
deadly fevers. There was nothing exhilirating,
nothing to give promise of pleasure or amusement.
As our gallant brigantine glided gaily on, sending
the sparkling foam from her bows through the tiny