A SKETCH IN THE TROPICS. 



FROM A SUPERCARGO'S LOG. 

 [MAG A. SEPTEMBER 1843.] 



IT was on a November morning of the year 1816, 

 and about half an hour before daybreak, that the 

 door of an obscure house in the Calle St Agostino, 

 at the Havannah, was cautiously opened, and a man 

 put out his head, and gazed up and down the street 

 as if to assure himself that no one was near. All 

 was silence and solitude at that early hour; and 

 presently the door opening wider, gave egress to a 

 young man muffled in a shabby cloak, who, with 

 hurried but stealthy step, took the direction of the 

 port. Hastening noiselessly through the deserted 

 streets and lanes, he soon reached the quay, upon 

 which were numerous storehouses of sugar and other 

 merchandise, and piles of dye-woods, placed there in 

 readiness for shipment Upon approaching one of 

 the latter, the young man gave a low whistle, and 

 the next instant a figure glided from between two 

 huge heaps of logwood, and seizing his hand, drew 



