A CARIB BREAKFAST. 
395 
Chap. XXIV.— B. P.] 
the usually common sight of a pair of chattering 
parrots flying agross the river was a rarity. 
As we pushed on, I noticed a constant succession 
of cultivated patches, containing plantains, bananas, 
some cocoa-trees, and invariably sugar-cane, which 
grows here to great perfection, without the slightest 
care or attention being paid to it, but I did not observe 
a single cocoa-nut tree on the whole line of the river. 
The soil is everywhere rich, and I was told that at 
this height above the river-mouth swamps were very 
rarely met with. 
At half-past six, when the sun had well risen, we 
began to see houses, or rather huts, on the banks, the 
villa residences of the Blewfields gentry. At one of 
these, belonging to a creole named George Taylor, we 
stopped to breakfast. The first thing was to light a 
fire and put the kettle on, which fortunately had been 
filled with fresh water before starting. At first I 
feared that I should have to resort to beer for my 
breakfast, as the men declared that there was no drink¬ 
able water for some little distance; but when I told 
them to shove off and paddle until we reached water, 
as I would have my tea, the kettle was produced, and 
I have every reason to believe that the water in it had 
been reserved for this purpose, the creoles being very 
fond of tea, as they proved by making a whole kettle¬ 
ful, and, after filling my tin mug, sharing the rest 
amongst themselves, without asking whether I wanted 
any more. 
My crew’s breakfast had the merit of simplicity. 
A plantain-tree was cut down with a couple of blows 
