onscious at the same time of an inward assurance
that I should yet find a fitting time for that act of restoration.

The duel was much talked of among the officers of the fleet, and
when Captain Vincent heard of it he, as I have said, took me to his
heart. By it I was sealed of the tribe of Benbow, and became, in my
worthy captain's eyes, one of the elect.

In October of the year 1698 we were stirred to excitement by the
news that Mr. Benbow had been ordered to take a squadron to the
West Indies, and there was much eager speculation among us as to
the vessels which would have the good fortune to sail with him. I
hoped with all my heart that the Falmouth would be one of them, for
I was weary of the humdrum life of idling on shore or aimless
sailing up and down the channel. The admiral's was a peaceful
mission, and no fighting was expected, but I felt a great curiosity
to behold new scenes. To my vast delight, when the admiral came
down from London, Captain Vincent told me that the Falmouth was to
be one of a squadron of four, the others being the Gloucester, the
Dunkirk (both fourth rates of forty-eight guns), and a small French
prize called the Germoon.

We set sail on the 29th of November, touched at Madeira to take in
wine and other stores in which that bounteous isle is prolific, and
after a tranquil voyage reached Barbados on the 27th of February.
We proceeded to Mevis and the Leeward Islands, and steering our
course thence to the continent, made the highland of St. Martha,
and so to Cartagena, where we obliged the governor to deliver up
two or three English merchant ships which they had seized at the
time of the hapless Scotch settlement at Darien. Thence we stood
away for Jamaica.

Joe Punchard (who was on board the Gloucester, having returned to
his old vocation of body servant to Mr. Benbow) had prepared me, in
a measure, before we left Portsmouth, for the wondrous beauty of
these western isles, but I might say, as the Queen of Sheba said of
the glory and grandeur of King Solomon, that "the half had not been
told." I was struck dumb with admiration as we threaded our way
through a narrow channel between irregular reefs lying off the
harbor of Port Royal. The spacious harbor itself was a noble sight,
but the background was even more picturesque--the light,
two-storied houses with their piazzas painted green and white, the
varying hues of the gardens, filled with palms and cocoanut trees,
and the lofty minar