aloft of 'Land ho!' and heard the officer of the watch sing
out, 'Where away?'

And lo and behold! three or four hours afterwards we were all on deck
marvelling at the rugged grandeur of the shores of Rio, and the wondrous
steeple-shaped mountain that stands sentry for ever and ever and ever at
the entrance to the marvellous haven.

When this was in sight, Moncrieff rushed off into the cabin and bore his
mother out.

He held the old lady aloft, on one arm, shouting, as he pointed
landwards--

'Look, mither, look! the Promised Land! Our new home in the Silver West!'

CHAPTER VII.

ON SHORE AT RIO.

It was well on in the afternoon when land was sighted, but so accurately
had the ship been navigated for all the long, pleasant weeks of our voyage
that both the captain and his first officer might easily have been excused
for showing a little pride in their seamanship. Your British sailor,
however, is always a modest man, and there was not the slightest approach
to bombast. The ship was now slowed, for we could not cross the bar that
night.

At the dinner-table we were all as merry as schoolboys on the eve of a
holiday. Old Jenny, as Moncrieff's mother had come to be called, was in
excellent spirits, and her droll remarks not only made us laugh, but
rendered it very difficult indeed for the stewards to wait with anything
approaching to _sang-froid_. Moncrieff was quietly happy. He seemed
pleased his mother was so great a favourite. Aunt, in her tropical toilet,
looked angelic. The adjective was applied by our mutual friend Captain
Roderigo de Bombazo, and my brothers and I agreed that he had spoken the
truth for once in a way. Did he not always speak the truth? it may be
asked. I am not prepared to accuse the worthy Spaniard of deliberate
falsehood, but if everything he told us was true, then he must indeed have
come through more wild and terrible adventures, and done more travelling
and more fighting, than any lion-hunter that ever lived and breathed.

He was highly amusing nevertheless, and as no one, with the exception of
Jenny, ever gave any evidence of doubting what he said and related
concerning his strange career, he was encouraged to carry on; and even the
exploits of Baron Munchausen could not have been compared to some of his.
I think it used to hurt his feelings somewhat that old Jenny listened so
stolidly to his relations, for he used to cater for her opinion at times.

'Ah!' Jenny would say,