CHAPTER IV. 

 GEORGETOWN. 



ANOTHER year has slipped past and again we are 

 southward bound, toward that Mecca the tropics - 

 which never ceases to call us. The time is the fifteenth of 

 February, 1909; the place, the Royal Dutch Mail Steamship 

 " Coppename." 



Xine days out from New York at three o'clock in the 

 morning we are roused suddenly from sleep by a gentle 

 roaring in our ears. When we have gained partial conscious- 

 ness we realize it is the basso-prof undo whisper of good Cap- 

 tain Haasnoot summoning us to the bridge. We ask no 

 questions for we have L-arned that the voice of the genial 

 Dutchman means something worth while, whether it is 

 raised in a thunderous roar of " Ilofmeistcr!" or as now in 

 gentler accents. Wrapped in flapping blankets, we climb 

 the steep ladder to the bridge, there to enjoy for half an hour 

 a most wonderful display of phosphorescence even excelling 

 that often visible in the Hay of Fundy. The Captain in all 

 liis world-wide sea-faring has never seen anything to equal it. 



We are only a short distance off the shore of British 

 (luiana and the ocean is thick with sediment from the rivers. 

 Tin- sky is overcast and no light comes from the moon and 

 stars, and yet the whole sea is plainly visible. The horizon 

 glows with a dull, yellow flare against the jet black sky, and 

 the myriad foam-caps shimmer as with brighter flames. 

 The quenching of these in the opaque water gives a vivid 

 impression of an enormous conflagration half hidden behind 

 billows of smoke. 



