he placed before us. I know that the bottles
circulated round the table very rapidly, and that the wine was
pronounced very good. It possessed, I remember, the quality of being
very strong, so that we soon forgot, thanks to its fumes, all the
misfortunes which had been oppressing our spirits, and soon hilarity and
fun reigned among us. While we held up our sparkling glasses, and the
joke and laugh went round, no one would have supposed that we were a
party of forlorn prisoners about to be marched off to a solitary abode
in the midst of a half-barbarous island. Toasts and sentiments were
uttered, and even songs were sung, and, for my own part, I know that I
entirely forgot where I was or what I was about to do. While our revels
were at their height a black officer made his appearance at the door.

"Messieurs, it is time to begin your journey. Your mules are at the
door. You must mount at once and proceed."

The order was more easily given than obeyed. With regard to the matter
of mounting and sticking on, that, in whatever condition a seaman is, he
can generally accomplish; but the guiding a horse, mule, or donkey is a
very different affair, and beyond often the power of a sober sailor,
much more of a drunken one.

"Oh, bad luck to the blackguards! we are not going to have our
conviviality cut short by them or any like them!" exclaimed O'Driscoll,
filling up his glass with Burgundy as some of the party were about to
rise from their chairs.

"Let's sit down and be merry yet awhile longer--we shall not get such
liquor as this at the town where we are to take up our abode." He
little knew what a true word he was speaking when he said that. His
example was infectious, and, captain and all, we sat down and filled up
our glasses. A toast was proposed, succeeded by a tremendous rapping on
the table. Before it had ceased the door was swung open and a nigger
officer marched into the room in a furious rage.

"For what you disobey orders?" he exclaimed, in very tolerable
nigger-English; "you come out at once and mount, or I get the whip in
among you and make you fly!"

"Ho, ho, Quasho, you've got an English tongue in your head! where did
you pick that up, you rascal--you run-away slave from Jamacy, I guess--
eh, eh?" cried O'Driscoll, turning round and looking at the fellow with
an expression of supreme contempt.

I fully expected to see the anger of the negro become ungovernable;
instead of that, however, he p