210 DOTTINGS ON THE ROADSIDE. [Chap. XIII.-B. P. 
“ Whatever place it be,” said one of the lieutenants, 
seeing me shake my head, “it is good news that we 
are so soon to leave Jamaica; for what with the sti¬ 
fling heat at Port Royal during this time of the year, 
and the overbearing insolence of the negroes, almost 
any place would be a change for the better.” 
“We are going to a land, gentlemen, not precisely 
flowing with milk and honey, but famed in story, the 
scene of many daring exploits; the very country 
which Columbus pointed out to Ferdinand and Isa¬ 
bella as the Ophir of Scripture; and whence, let me 
tell you, more than ten times the amount of treasure ever 
possessed by David and Solomon has already been ob¬ 
tained. In short, we are to be stationed on the Spa¬ 
nish Main; and you may now discard ‘Tom Cringle’s 
Log ’ and Captain Marryat’s thrilling descriptions, and 
take to the book of the Hakluyt Society, the ‘His¬ 
tory of the Pirate Morgan,’ ‘Wafer’s Darien,’ the 
story of that great man Patterson, besides other books 
of a like sort which I shall have pleasure in lending 
you.” 
During the above conversation, I could not help no¬ 
ticing a certain lengthening of the face on the part of 
my listeners, and the countenance of the Bluenose 
sympathizer was bluer than that of any one else., But 
the climax was reached when I announced that the 
part of the Spanish Main to which I was especially 
bound was “ the Mosquito Coast,” currently reported 
in the service to be the “ last place ” on the West In¬ 
dian station. Even the lieutenant who had such a low 
opinion about Jamaica, thought it might be preferable 
to remain at Port Royal a little longer. 
