10 Mr. James Epps, Jun., on 
colour, and in the east a grey tinged as if with a bloom of 
purple. These tints change very rapidly, and one must see them 
to appreciate them; no tongue can describe them, and no artist 
can record or reproduce them. 
We arrived at Bridgetown, Barbadoes, on Sunday, at 3.30 p.m. 
After seeing little but water for twelve days, it is very pleasing 
to see land once again, and everyone is anxious to get ashore. 
The loud sharp report of the signal-gun is heard from the bridge, 
signifying that the good ship has dropped her anchor. The 
English ensign is flying from her mast, and likewise the yellow 
flag. 
Crowds of boats are waiting to come alongside, but the police 
boat is there and keeps them back until the ship’s doctor has 
passed his papers over to the Barbadoes medical officer. The 
medical officer having looked them over, and it being a clean 
bill, passes the ship, and the yellow flag is then lowered, and the 
boats are allowed to come alongside, and cater for passengers. 
Attention is first given to the diving boys; these come alongside 
in small canoes, or more correctly old wooden packing cases, 
each canoe carrying two negro boys. On coins being thrown 
into the water they are eagerly contested for by the occupants. 
Very good divers these boys are, and they never let a coin slip 
out of their sight. These lads for a shilling will dive down 
from one side of the ship, go underneath, and come up on the 
other side, the ship often drawing 20 to 24 feet of water. These 
boys wear only a piece of white linen round their loins, and as 
they go under the water the white linen appears to change to 
a beautiful blue. 
By this time the turmoil of tongues has commenced, and each 
occupant of the small boats is shouting to the passengers on the 
ship something after this style :—-‘‘ Don’t forget the ‘Firefly,’ 
sir!’’ ‘**Sunbeam,’ sir?’’ ‘‘ You can’t take us all!’ “I’m first, 
sir!”’ ‘First come, first served, sir!’’ ‘‘ Don’t forget ‘No. 47,’ 
‘47,’ sir!’”? The cranes on the ship are now at work, and all is 
noise and excitement. 
We are lying about one mile from Bridgetown. The shore 
and town from the ship look charming, and the surrounding 
trees and fields are as green and fresh as in June in England. 
I have never felt greater delight than on looking at this picture. 
What a wonderful change in twelve-days, from the dark, damp, 
cold, foggy, sunless climate of London! Everything on shore 
looks as if it had been washed, and then arranged for effect. 
On the Monday morning we went ashore: the masses of black 
people busily moving about the bright streets, all looking 
remarkably happy and healthy, laughing and chattering, were 
to me, for the first time, thrilling. 
We first stopped at the ice house, a house well known and 
