4 THROUGH GASA LAND. 



such a venerable age she was not likely to go to 

 pieces on this voyage. 



In both these opinions we were correct, but the 

 question has often since arisen in my mind, why did 

 this wretched craft not go ashore or founder ? I can 

 only ask why ? Her skipper — I think his name was 

 Drake — appeared to have no idea of taking an ob- 

 servation, so consequently hugged the land, seldom, 

 or never, losing sight of it, while the craft's gear was 

 everlastingly giving way. The weather was not 

 really bad ; still, we had a stiff breeze, and as our 

 schooner was very light, it may be imagined how 

 the little vessel jumped about on the anything but 

 placid Indian Ocean. Moreover, a more inutile 

 crew never hauled on a brace, and never were at 

 hand when wanted to do so ; so Selwin, who had 

 great yachting experience, and I, who had much 

 boating knowledge, not figuratively, but literally did 

 all the work of the vessel. But let me skip over the 

 dangers by sea, and the horrors we encountered from 

 cockroaches and other gruesome and uncanny beasts 

 by night. In due course of time we landed at 

 Lorenzo Marquez, the vilest, filthiest, and most 

 deadly place to white men I know of, in all this 

 habitable world. We arrived in the healthy season ; 

 I should like to ask what it can be in the sickly 

 period. The slob which surrounds the village, and 

 mangroves that grow upon it, seemed to fairly reek 

 with fever. 



