ection which was unmistakeable.

"I believe, sir, it's all very right with these poor fellows, and
there's no harm in them," said Jack Stretcher to me one day. "But, to
my mind, it doesn't do to trust these strange niggers too much. They
sometimes, I've heard, rises and cuts the throats of their friends."

I agreed with Jack that it was necessary, in most cases, to be cautious;
but in the present instance it was evident, as things turned out, that
it was owing to Waller's judicious treatment of the negroes that all our
lives were preserved.

All this time the wind was blowing so strongly from the eastward, that
we found it impossible to beat up against it, so we had nothing else to
do but to continue running before it. Every day matters were getting
more and more serious; our own provisions were growing shorter. Of
anything like luxuries we had none--salt beef and pork, hard biscuit and
rice, and a little tea and sugar, with a cask of rum--none of the best
either, by-the-bye. Waller called me into the cabin for a consultation.

"To get back to the coast is now impossible," he remarked. "If this
wind holds, and we can keep the craft afloat, our best chance is to try
and make the coast of Brazil. The port of Bahia is the nearest, and I
propose steering for that place."

I agreed with him; but we neither of us had any very strong hopes of
being really able to make it in time to save our own lives and those of
the negroes. On carefully examining our stock of provisions, we found
that only by the most economical expenditure of them, and with the most
favourable weather, should we be able to reach our destination in time.
A foul wind, or a day or two of calm, would ruin us; and a gale would in
all probability send us to the bottom. The blacks, of their own accord,
took their spell at the pumps, and finally relieved our men entirely of
the labour. Had they been compelled to continue pumping, it would, I am
certain, have worn them out. We most dreaded a want of water. Not a
cloud appeared from which we might draw it forth, and scarcely could we
expect a shower. Though constantly on the look-out, not a vessel could
we see, from whence we might get provisions. At length, one morning, as
Jack Stretcher had gone aloft--

"A sail on the weather-bow!" he sung out, in a cheery tone, which gave
hope to all our hearts. "She's standing across our course, so we can
speak her without altering it."

In about two hours