176 CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES. 
lay well over to leeward, and we moved slowly on 
our course. To avoid being becalmed under the lee 
of Guadeloupe, our captain had taken the longer route 
to windward, and we were now crossing the pathway 
of Columbus when he first approached these islands 
of the Caribbees. Next morning, when we went 
“about” for Marie Galante, the only island in sight 
was that lone rock of Désirade—the “ desired island” 
of Columbus, when he was expecting to discover land. 
Our captain was a negro, black as his African an- 
cestor and without a brutish instinct the less. Plainly, 
he had missed his calling, which was to labor in the 
cane-fields beneath the lash of insolence-rebuking 
overseer. His provisions of yam and fish gave out on 
the evening of the second day, and my private store, 
also, failed me. The only meat on board was in 
living shape—a turkey and a jackass. That night 
the turkey died, welcoming death as a relief from 
sore disease. The jackass, patient for a day, waxed 
wroth as time passed on without food or drink, and 
broke the stillness of the second night with discordant 
brays. 
The deck was crowded with sable passengers; the 
“cabin” was filled high with bags of coffee and guano 
and sundry boxes, and at the farther end was a stifled 
room in which was a berth allotted by the captain to 
me as a first-class passenger. Late in the evening I 
worked my way with difficulty to the room to retire. 
It was very dark and very evil-smelling, and I reached 
my hand up to open a little slide above the bunk, for 
air and light. It came in contact with something for- 
eign, which, upon being shaken, gave signs of life 
and alarm, and a woman’s voice demanded what I 
