The pinnace boarded a fine schooner called the _Vigilante_, with everything ready for a start. Her fore topsail yard was hoisted to the masthead, her cat-fall was overhauled, and a luff tackle for weighing the anchor stretched along her deck. The planks were arranged over the water casks, ready for the reception of her slaves, who were always brought on board heavily ironed. And even the articles, delicately termed “poo-poo pots” by the boatswain, were placed on either side. The crew were pretty well on the alert, considering the darkness of the night. They hailed the boat before she got alongside, and her crew, forty-five in number, rushing up from below as one man, each having his particular station assigned him, took possession of the deck. Had our boats waited two or three hours, she would in all probability have been captured with 400 or 500 slaves on board. She, however, produced Portuguese papers. The cutter boarded a pretty, rakish-looking brig, which was immediately recognised as the _Golenthokika_, a vessel which had been lying for some weeks close to us at Barcelona. Her people were not quite so much on the alert as those on board the brigantine. On coming on deck they made a rush for the arms kept under the poop, but they found everything already in the possession of our men. The skipper produced Russian and Greek papers, under which countries’ flags he fitted out. The jolly-boat also boarded a slave schooner under Portuguese colours. As most of these vessels have a double set of papers, the Spanish ones were in all probability on shore with the captain, none of whom were found on board. The men being tired, and the weather, as usual, rainy and dirty, we remained that night at anchor, sending the gig to reconnoitre. The following morning we got under way about an hour before daylight, and stood towards the slave vessels. The ground between the anchorage we were in and the vessels was rocky and uneven. We lost two hand-leads, although we had nothing less than ten fathoms. The gig returned on board when we got off Trade Town. Goldsmith, who had boarded the brigantine again at daylight, found so much prevarication in the captain’s statement that he brought him and the papers on board for my inspection. The man who came as captain was a Portuguese lad, but with an old head on young shoulders. He stated the night he was boarded that the Captain was on shore, which fact he flatly denied to me, and said the officer must have been mistaken, although I had three men ready to make oath that such was the case. He seemed to know very well what he was about, and produced regular Portuguese papers, signed by the proper authorities at Porto Praya. He breakfasted with me, spoke very good Spanish and a little English, and, appearing satisfied that all was right, smoked his cigar with true Spanish indifference.