For the men left on board ‘The Bashful Maid,’ now heaving drowsily at her anchor, it realised, with its vivid and varied hues, its fantastic outlines, its massive brakes, its feathery palms, its luxuriant redundancy of vegetation, trailing and drooping to the sparkling water’s-edge, a sailor’s idea of Paradise; while for the three Jacks rolling into the little town of Port Welcome, with its white houses, straggling streets, frequent drinking-shops, and swarming population—black, white, and coloured, it represented the desirable haven of Fiddler’s Green, where they felt, no doubt, they had arrived before their time. Slap-Jack made a remark to that effect, which was cordially endorsed by his comrades as they turned into the main thoroughfare of the town, and agreed that, in order to enjoy their holiday to the utmost, it was essential to commence with something to drink all round. Now, ‘The Bashful Maid’ having been already a few days in port, had in that time disposed of a considerable portion of her cargo, and such an event as the arrival of a saucy brigantine, combining the attractions of a man-of-war with the advantages of a free-trader, not being an every-day occurrence among the population of Port Welcome, much stir, excitement, and increase of business was the result. The French storekeepers bid eagerly for wares of European manufacture, the French planters sent their slaves down in dozens to purchase luxuries only attainable from beyond sea, while the negroes, grinning from ear to ear, jostled and scolded each other in their desire to barter yams, plantains, fruit, poultry, and even, on occasion, pieces of actual money, for scarfs, gloves, perfumes, and ornaments—the tawdrier the better, which they thought might add to the gloss of their black skins, and set off their quaint, honest, ugly, black faces to advantage.