The large opening cannot be passed without an expert pilot, who is in the habit of visiting it every day, to know exactly its state and depth; both of which are uncertain, as they vary according to circumstances. All, therefore, that is known, is the extent and rapidity of the floods; but the sudden variations in question must doubtless be attributed to the double action of the river and the sea. The pilot who is engaged to conduct ships over the bar, has a large boat with a deck, and a crew of Negroes, who have no cloathing but a band of linen about six inches broad, which passes between their thighs: they are all strongly-made people, and excellent swimmers. But notwithstanding their knowledge and activity, the boat and its crew often perish: they, however, more frequently escape the destruction which threatens them, and often exert themselves for the safety of strangers. But woe be to the rash seamen who might dare to attempt without their assistance the passage of the bar, as they would infallibly perish. Fortunately this passage does not last longer than a quarter of an hour; but it inspires so much dread, that the length of time seems insupportable. The first persons who passed this bar must have been intrepid sailors. When this passage is effected, its horrors are succeeded by a calm, as the course of the river then becomes as smooth and gentle as its entrance was shocking and difficult. It is from twenty to twenty-five feet deep, and of a considerable width. The exhausted rowers then take breath, drink brandy, and dance and rejoice at their success: they of course always receive a recompence. When I entered, I gave them a louis d’or, with which they were so highly satisfied that they were a long time singing my generosity, and afterwards did me great honour in the colony.