They entered a tram and drove back towards the city; but while they were yet in the suburbs, Baptiste made a sign to Carew to descend, and they walked, the mate leading the way, down a narrow street of negro shanties, each surrounded by its little provision ground of bananas, yams, and cassava. Then they came to a very rough and disreputable neighbourhood, abounding in low grog shops, in which European sailors were courting Yellow Jack, by drinking poisonous rum. They reached a street which skirted the shores of the bay; and here, on the very edge of the water, there stood a stone house by itself. "That is the tavern I spoke of," said the mate. Then assuming his usual bantering tone, "It is a queer place. It will interest you, as an English milord travelling for his pleasure and instruction, to observe the humours of the place. It is the resort of the greatest villains of Rio--robbers, smugglers, and the like. The result is that it is an exceedingly quiet and respectable house. They dare not have rows in there; no drunkenness or thieving or kniving is allowed on those premises. Men frequent this café when bent on business, not on pleasure." The interior of the house did not seem to be used for purposes of entertainment, for all the customers were congregated in a large arbour that lay against one side of the building, and faced the sea. They entered this arbour, and sat down at one of the bare deal tables, and the mate, calling one of the waiters, a very evil-looking mulatto with one eye, selected some of the dishes out of the bill of fare. The sun was setting, and the darkness came on with the suddenness of tropical latitudes. Two negroes proceeded to light a number of Venetian lanterns that festooned the café, and Carew, while he waited for his dinner, gazed with amazement at the scene before him. A number of men were sitting at the tables, eating, drinking, and smoking. There were negroes, whites, and mulattos. They appeared to be of many nationalities. It would be almost impossible to see elsewhere a collection of more villainous faces. They sat for the most part in silence, as if avoiding each other's companionship; but at some of the tables were small groups, and here conversations were carried on in a low voice. There were no smiles to be seen; there was no noise; there were no signs of hilarity in all this assemblage. An atmosphere of gloom and fear seemed to pervade the place. Occasionally one of these taciturn beings would glance suspiciously at the table where Carew and the mate were sitting. Guilt, dread, and hopelessness could be read on many a face. It might have been a supper of lost souls in the shades of Hades, but then--and it was this that, by its mocking contrast, lent a strange horror to the scene, as if it were some fantastic and dreadful nightmare--the melancholy feast was taking place in a very paradise.