nough of the
language to be a proficient in swearing."

With these human scrapings for a ship's company, the cutter Caroline was
three months on her solitary way as far as the Cape of Good Hope, where
the inhabitants "could not disguise their astonishment at the size of
the vessel, the boyish appearance of the master and mate, and the queer
and unique characters of the two men and boy who composed the crew." The
English officials thought it strange indeed, suspecting some scheme of
French spies or smuggled dispatches, but Richard Cleveland's petition
to the Governor, Lord McCartney, ingenuously patterned after certain
letters addressed to noblemen as found in an old magazine aboard his
vessel, won the day for him and he was permitted to sell the cutter and
her cargo, having changed his mind about proceeding farther.

Taking passage to Batavia, he looked about for another venture but found
nothing to his liking and wandered on to Canton, where he was attracted
by the prospect of a voyage to the northwest coast of America to buy
furs from the Indians. In a cutter no larger than the Caroline he risked
all his cash and credit, stocking her with $20,000 worth of assorted
merchandise for barter, and put out across the Pacific, "having on board
twenty-one persons, consisting, except two Americans, of English, Irish,
Swedes and French, but principally the first, who were runaways from
the men-of-war and Indiamen, and two from a Botany Bay ship who had made
their escape, for we were obliged to take such as we could get, served
to complete a list of as accomplished villains as ever disgraced any
country."

After a month of weary, drenching hardship off the China coast, this
crew of cutthroats mutinied. With a loyal handful, including the black
cook, Cleveland locked up the provisions, mounted two four-pounders
on the quarterdeck, rammed them full of grape-shot, and fetched up the
flint-lock muskets and pistols from the cabin. The mutineers were then
informed that if they poked their heads above the hatches he would blow
them overboard. Losing enthusiasm and weakened by hunger, they asked to
be set ashore; so the skipper marooned the lot. For two days the cutter
lay offshore while a truce was argued, the upshot being that four of the
rascals gave in and the others were left behind.

Fifty days more of it and, washed by icy seas, racked and storm-beaten,
the vessel made Norfolk Sound. So small was the crew, so imminent the
dang