217 



HEAT AND THIRST.— A SCENE IN JAMAICA. 



The Torch was lying at anchor in Blue-fields Bay; it was between 

 eight and nine in the morning. The land wind had died away, and 

 the sea breeze had not set in — there was not a breath stirring. The 

 pennant from the mast-head fell sluggishly down, and clung amongst 

 the rigging like a dead snake, whilst the folds of the St. George's en- 

 sign, that hung from the mizen peak, were as motionless as if they 

 had been carved in marble. 



The anchorage was one unbroken mirror, except where its glass- 

 like surface was shivered into sparkling ripples by the gambols of a 

 skipjack, or the flashing stoop of his enemy the pelican ; and the 

 reflection of the vessel was so clear and steady, that at the distance 

 of a cable's length you could not distinguish the water line, nor tell 

 where the substance ended and shadow began, until the casual dash- 

 ing of a bucket overboard for a few moments broke up the phantom 

 ship; but the wavering fragments soon re-united, and she again 

 floated double, like the swan of the poet. The heat was so intense 

 that the iron stancheons of the awning could not be grasped with the 

 hand, and where the decks were not screened by it, the pitch boiled 

 out from the seams. The swell rolled in from the offing in long 

 undulations, like a sea of quicksilver, whilst every now and then a 

 flying fish would spark out from the unruffled bosom of the heaving 

 water, and shoot away like a silver arrow, until it dropped with a 

 flash into the sea again. There was not a cloud in the heavens ; 

 but a quivering blue haze hung over the land, through which the 

 white sugar works and overseers' houses on the distant estates ap- 

 peared to twinkle like objects seen through a thin smoke, whilst 

 each of the tall stems of the cocoa-nut trees on the beach, when 

 looked at steadfastly, seemed to be turning round with a small spiral 

 motion, like so many endless screws. There was a dreamy indis- 

 tinctness about the outlines of the hills, even in the immediate 

 vicinity, which increased as they receded, until the blue mountains 

 in the horizon melted into sky. The crew were listlessly spinning 

 oakum, and mending sails, under the shade of the awning ; the only 

 exceptions to the general languor were John-crow the black, and 

 Jackoo the monkey. The former (who was an improvisatore of a 

 rough stamp,) sat out on the bowsprit, through choice, beyond the 

 shade of the canvass, without hat or shirt, like a bronze bust, busy 

 with his task, whatever that might be, singing at the top of his pipe, 

 and between whiles confabulating with his hairy ally, as if he had 

 been a messmate. The monkey was hanging by the tail from the 

 VOL. II.— 1833. d2 



