230 WANDERINGS IN 



Third aiicl danger." I then mustered all hands for the last 



Journey. 



— thne before the battle. We were, four South American 



savages, two negroes from Africa, a Creole from Trinidad, 

 and myself a white man from Yorkshire. In fact, a httle 

 tower of Babel group, in dress, no dress, address, and 

 language. 



Daddy Quashi hung in the rear ; I showed him a lai-ge 

 Spanish knife, which I always carried in the waistband of 

 my trowsers : it spoke volumes to him, and he shrugged 

 up his shoulders in absolute despair. The sun was just 

 peeping over the high forests on the eastern hills, as if 

 coming to look on, and bid us act with becoming forti- 

 tude. I placed all the people at the end of the rope, and 

 ordered them to pull till the Cayman appeared on the 

 surface of the water ; and then, should he plunge, to 

 slacken the rope and let him go again into the deep. 



I now took the mast of the canoe in my hand (the sail 

 being tied round the end of the mast) and sunk down 

 upon one knee, about four yards from the water's edge, 

 determining to thrust it down his throat, in case he gave 

 me an opportunity. I certainly felt somewhat uncomfort- 

 able in this situation, and I thought of Cerberus on the 

 other side of the Styx ferry. The people pulled the Cay- 

 man to the surface ; he plunged furiously as soon as he 

 arrived in these upper regions, and immediately went 

 below again on their slackening the rope. I saw enough 

 not to fall in love at first sight. I now told them we 

 would run all risks, and have him on land immediately. 



