oked surprised, but not incredulous, and said in his peculiar
dialect that he had no doubt I spoke the truth, as he had always heard
that England was a fine country to live in. I then led him insensibly
from this topic to talk of the sea and his experiences, and found that
he had seen a very great deal, having been freed when young, and keeping
to the ocean ever since in many different sorts of craft. Indeed, I was
as much pleased with him as with Wilkinson, but then I had foreseen a
simplicity in both the negroes, and in expectation of finding this
quality, so useful to one in my strange position, I was overjoyed when
they consented to help me sail the schooner to the Thames.

We went on deck to relieve Wilkinson and Cromwell. Billy Pitt took the
tiller and I walked to either rail and stared into the darkness. It was
very thick with occasional squalls of snow, which put a screaming as of
tortured cats into the wind as they swung through it. The sea was high,
but the schooner was making excellent weather of it, whilst she rolled
and pitched through the troubled darkness at seven knots in the hour.
'Twas noble useful sailing, yet a speed not to be relished in these
waters amid so deep a shadow. Still the temptation to "hold on all," as
we say, was very great; every mile carried us by so much nearer to the
temperate parallels, and shortened to that extent the long, long passage
that lay before us.

I was pacing the deck briskly, for the wind was horribly keen, when Pitt
suddenly called out, "I say, massa!"

"Hullo," I replied.

"Sah," he cried, "I smell ice!"

I knew that this was a capacity not uncommon among men who had voyaged
much in the frosty regions of the deep, and instantly exclaimed, "Luff,
then, luff! shake the way out of her!" sniffing as I spoke, but
detecting no added shrewdness in the air that was already freezingly
cold. He put the helm down, and I called to the others below to come on
deck and flatten in the main sheet. They were up in a trice and tailed
on with me, asking no questions, till we had the boom nearly amidships.

I was about to speak when Wilkinson cried out, "I smell ice." He sniffed
a moment: "Yes, there's an island aboard. Anybody see it?"

"Ay, dere it am, sure enough!" cried Cromwell. "Dere--on de lee-bow--see
it, sah? See it, Billy?"

Yes, I saw it plain enough when I knew where to look for it. 'Twas just
such another lump of faintness as had wrecked the _Laughing Mary_, a
mass