IX 
A DILATORY SKIPPER 
127 
go by D.’s boat leaving next day. He had previously 
said that he was going on three different days in suc- 
cession. At first he was to start on the 1 6th, but when 
the 1 6th came he put it off until next day, then again 
to another day, and he finally left yesterday. He was 
positively going at twelve ; they gave him two hours’ 
grace but he still would not say when he was starting. 
Hour after hour we were kept there, not daring to 
express our feelings, as we were entirely at his mercy. 
At last in despair, in the most humble manner I could 
put on (feeling all the time as if I could have hurled 
unlimited adjectives at him), I asked if he meant to 
leave at all that night, as I had to catch the steamer 
next day. “ I’ll leave when I do leave,” was all the 
answer that I got. 
The sun was now setting and the long purple shadows 
were turning to gray, we were miles from home and still 
the creature would give us no answer ; finally, when our 
patience was almost exhausted, and irritated at last to 
desperation, after a diplomatic commercial transaction, 
we eventually started at seven, with a miscellaneous 
cargo of pigs, turkeys, fowls, pumpkins, tin from the 
mines, orchids, ferns, and goodness knows what besides. 
There was no moving room on board that boat, and 
a mere hole did duty for a cabin. I saw a woman’s 
head poke up it, and I asked her if it was stuffy 
down there, to which she answered, “ Awful, but you 
grows accustomed to it.” I did not try it, but sat as 
best I could beside the man at the wheel for an hour, 
during all which time the boat lay like a log at the 
mouth of the river, as there was not a breath of wind 
stirring to take us forward. 
A brilliant moon was rising and not a sound broke 
the silence, when suddenly from the depth of the water 
below there came a soft murmuring sound like the 
