We were all there on board that ship. The dark crafty little captain with eyes like hard black beads which glowed with an underflush of red when he was angry, terrified us when we felt his gaze upon us; for he seemed an evil man, and one without conscience or remorse, and in his company we couldn't know to what wickedness we might be driven; for there was no question of disobedience though he should bid us pawn our souls to the devil. Then there was the burly savage of a mate, a sort of furious club in the hands of the wicked little captain; a creature ready and willing for all abominations, but lacking a cunning mind to plan the atrocities he gloried in committing. His huge wide smile of evil delight as he listened to some tale of cruel villainy from the captain, rubbing his great hairy hand relishingly across his mouth, was a thing to frighten the boldest. And so one by one the crew came before our eyes, for the most part decent enough fellows, but snared by some malignant fate into the clutches of that abominable pair. And lastly there was the priest; a lukewarm superstitious round little fellow, on the one hand in terror of the captain and his mighty shadow, and on the other hand in dread of hell-fire; and between the two fears living a life of haunted terror, torn between cowardice and conscience. I remember there was a mutiny on board that ship before the golden coasts were reached. At least, the captain and the mate discovered a mutiny, probably for their own amusement to relieve the monotony of the voyage; and then there followed floggings and hangings, while the captain twitched his cruel and wicked lips, and the mate stripped his huge arms in brutal anticipation, and Jack Priest knelt and mumbled prayers, and ventured a timid word of protest, and was sent packing to his job of saying a Mass for the murdered and seeing them safely tossed to the sharks. But the bloodshed was to bear a terrible harvest; and I remember how my father played upon our expectations, till we were in a fever of excitement, wondering what was to come of it; for gradually through the story the note of coming doom was emphasized so subtly, yet so insistently, that the ship seemed to be moving forward into the closing shadow of some terrible fate. There were warnings in the wind and in the sea, and the priest was whimpering with superstitious terror; and beneath the fear and submission of the daunted crew there were mutterings and low-hissed threats which were ominous of evil things. So at length land was sighted; but the wonderful palms that waved overhead, and the splendid sun setting serenely beyond the tall dark stems, were but as an ironic smile of the brooding destiny which lay in wait for that ill-starred crew.