d a heavy sea, so that the big ship pitched and
ploughed with dull hissing through the foaming waves. She lay aslant
under the pressure of the wind that whistled in the rigging, and the
full curve of the great sails was a fine sight; but it was evident
that the sails and ropes were in a very rotten condition, and soon,
with anxious looks, we followed the growth of a tear in the mainsail,
wondering whether the mast would stand the strain. A heavy sea broke
the rudder, and altogether it was high time to land when we entered
Port Olry in the late afternoon.

A few days later I started for Hog Harbour, for the plantation
of the Messrs. Th., near which I meant to attend a great feast,
or "sing-sing." This meant a march of several hours through the
bush. My boys had all put on their best finery,--trousers, shirts,
gay handkerchiefs,--and had painted their hair with fresh lime.

"Well, boys, are you ready?" "Yes, Masta," they answer, with
conviction, though they are far from ready, as they are still tying
their bundles. After waiting a while, I say, "Well, me, me go." They
answer, "All right, you go." I take a few steps and wait again. One
of them appears in front of the hut to look for a stick to hang his
bundle on, another cannot find his pipe; still, after a quarter of an
hour, we can really start. The boys sing and laugh, but as we enter
the forest darkness they suddenly become quiet, as if the sternness
of the bush oppressed their souls. We talk but little, and only in
undertones. These woods have none of the happy, sensuous luxuriance
which fancy lends to every tropical forest; there is a harshness,
a selfish struggle for the first place among the different plants, a
deadly battling for air and light. Giant trees with spreading crowns
suppress everything around, kill every rival and leave only small
and insignificant shrubs alive. Between them, smaller trees strive
for light; on tall, straight, thin stems they have secured a place and
developed a crown. Others look for light in roundabout ways, making use
of every gap their neighbours leave, and rise upward in soft coils. All
these form a high roof, under which younger and weaker plants lead a
skimped life--hardwood trees on thin trunks, with small, unassuming
leaves, and vulgar softwood with large, flabby foliage. Around and
across all this wind the parasites, lianas, rotang, some stretched
like ropes from one trunk to another, some rising in elegant curves
from the g