After visiting "Rabbit Island," on which, as I have already told you, not a single Rabbit or Hare is to be seen, we made our way between it and Frisky Point, by a narrow and somewhat difficult channel leading to the bay in which I now write. The shores around us are entirely formed of a bank, from twenty to thirty feet high, and composed of concrete shells of various kinds, among which the Common Oyster, however, predominates. This bank, which at present looks as if bleached by the sunshine and rain of centuries, is so white that it well might form a guiding line to the vessels which navigate this bay even in the darkest nights. The bay, however, is so shallow, that it is rarely entered by vessels larger than schooners of about seventy tons burthen, which visit its shores to take in the sugars and cottons grown in the neighbouring country. The "Crusader" is a somewhat curious craft, small, snug withal, and considerably roguish looking. She has not fewer than four "grunters" on her fore deck, her sails are of pure white cotton, and although she bears the lively flag of our country at the peak, her being painted purely black gives her the aspect, not merely of a smuggler, but of a pirate. But here she is, at the entrance of a canal of a sugar plantation, and close to another craft, much the worse for wear, and, for aught I know to the contrary, belonging to the captain alone, who, I would almost venture to assert, belongs to no country at all. It is now four weeks since a razor came in contact with my chin. All my companions are equally hircine; or, if you please, hirsute. As to our clothing, were you to see us at this moment, you would be ready to exclaim, "What vagabonds these fellows are!" Coats and trousers plastered with mire, shirts no longer white, guns exhibiting the appearance of being in constant use, and all sorts of accoutrements that pertain to determined hunters, complete our _tout ensemble_. But, as I have said, here we are, and on shore must go. "Man the gig," quoth our captain. In a trice the gig is manned. One after another, for there are five or six of us, we swing ourselves into the after-sheets. The word is given, the oars are plied, and now we are once more on terra firma.