A FORLORN QUEST, ETC. 227 



of an interpreter at 5s. a day. This excellent 

 fellow knew just sufficient English to ensure 

 misunderstanding all round. Without his services, 

 gesticulation and an occasional oath in any lan- 

 guage but Portuguese would have made matters go 

 quite smoothly. His name was " John." Every 

 native is named either " John " or " Manoel." 

 And for us he had a sentimental and auspicious 

 interest from having accompanied Colonel Stead 

 on his successful capture of tunny on the native 

 tackle. 



Confident of success, having mentally worded 

 our cablegrams, all but the individual weight of 

 the fish, we took a bullock-car back to tiffin and 

 spent much of that afternoon fixing up our tackle. 



Five minutes after three next morning, with a 

 pale moon gleaming coldly on the beautiful ter- 

 raced garden, robbing rose and geranium of their 

 colour and revealing the ghostly outlines of cactus 

 and of palm, three determined anglers, fortified 

 with an early meal prepared by themselves, stole, 

 like thieves in the night, down the winding slope 

 and forty minutes later got on board the boat, 

 which at that moment arrived with remarkable 

 punctuality at the steps. It is not actually on 

 record, but it is surmised that Madeirans are 

 lineally descended from him who said ' I go, 

 Lord ! ' and went not. 



Scarcely a breath of air helped us along until 



