“Gone cruisin’ thereaway,” observed Bottle-Jack, vaguely waving his pipe in the direction of the mountains. “Never taken no soundings, nor kept no dead reckoning, nor signalled for a pilot, but just up foresail, drive-ahead, stem on, happy-go-lucky, an’ who cares!” While Smoke-Jack, puffing out solemn clouds of fragrant Trinidado, enunciated sententiously that he “Warn’t a-goin’ to dispute but what every craft should hoist her own ensign, an’ lay her own course; but when he see a able seaman clearing out from such a berth as this here, leaving the stiffest of grog and the strongest of ‘bacca’ a-cause of a old yaller woman with a red burgee; why, _he_ knowed the trim on ’em, that was _where_ it was. See if it wasn’t. Here’s my service to you, mate—All ships at sea!” Long ere the two stanch friends, however, had arrived at this intelligible conclusion, the object of their anxiety was half-way up the mountain, in fulfilment of the promise he had made Célandine to meet her at an appointed place. In justice to Slap-Jack, it is but fair to admit that his sentiments in regard to the Quadroon were those of keen curiosity mingled with pity for the obvious agitation under which she seemed to labour in his presence. Fair Alice herself, far off in her humble home among the downs, need not have grudged the elder woman an hour of her young seaman’s society, although every minute of it seemed so strangely prized by this wild, energetic, and mysterious person, with her swarthy face, her scarlet head-dress, and her flashing eyes, gleaming with the fierce anxious tenderness of a leopardess separated from her whelps. Slap-Jack’s sea legs had hardly time to become fatigued, ere at a turn in the mountain-path he found Célandine waiting for him, and somewhat to his disgust, peering about in every direction, as if loth to be observed; a clandestine interpretation of their harmless meeting which roused the young seaman’s ire, and against which he would have vehemently protested, had she not placed her hand over his mouth and implored him urgently, though in a whisper, to keep silence. Then she bade him follow, still below her breath, and so preceded him up the steep ascent with cautious, stealthy steps, but at a pace that made the foretopman’s unaccustomed knees shake and his breath come quick. The sun was hot, the mountain high, the path overgrown with cactus and other prickly plants, tangled with creepers and not devoid of snakes. Monkeys chattered, parrots screamed, glittering insects quivered like tinsel in the sun, or darted like flashes of coloured light across the forest-shade. Vistas of beauty, such as he had never dreamed of, opened out on either side, and looking back more than once to take breath while he ascended, the deep blue sea lay spread out beneath him, rising broader and broader to meet the blue transparent sky.