The Indians faithfully kept their promise, and each succeeding day they visited us with a plentiful supply of water and potatoes; the bill of fare varied occasionally by the introduction of some very offensive fowl, which they positively asserted were “esta bueno.” An amusement in which I often indulged was to chase innumerable crabs, with which the beach was literally covered in the mornings. They would, upon the first intimation of pursuit, disappear instantly into their holes in the hard sand. By remaining perfectly quiet for some time, they would again assemble in numbers, which the least movement on my part would again put to flight. They would make greater progress running{71} sideways than I could any way; therefore, I never caught one. The pig remained secreted in his cavernous retreat, which no entreaties on our part could induce him to vacate. Not until driven to the last extremity by the pangs of hunger, did he venture to reconnoitre from the aperture. After viewing his companions in distress for a little time, he gained sufficient courage to eat potatoes from my hand. After that, he became quite domesticated, and, with the hen, used to share the sailors’ tent with them at nights. During this time, I was unconsciously assuming the dark and swarthy hue of the native women, from being constantly exposed to the scorching glare of a tropical sun. My habiliments, too, were becoming exceedingly soiled, from constant use both by night and day. The love and spirit of adventure had, from earliest infancy, been strongly implanted in my nature; and, during this voyage, certainly, this predilection for thrilling adventure had been amply gratified. Yet, had not the fiery ordeal through which it had pleased the God of love to bring me been for good, it would have been averted. A week had now elapsed since the departure of{72} the boat. Intently we scanned the ocean, in the hope of descrying the anxiously expected sail. Nights, at the hour of twilight, I would seat myself upon the rocks to indulge in the reveries which that most fitting hour for reflection usually calls up. The mind feels a soothing influence as the light of day fades gradually from sight. At such times memory is busy with the past—the distant home, the loved friends there assembled. I often wandered in this way through the spirit-land of old times. One night I was startled by the exultant cry of “A sail! a sail!” Being fearful lest some casualty had befallen the boat, and she had never reached Payta, Captain Lunt deemed it advisable to make signals, in the hope of attracting attention. She kept on her way, apparently unmindful of the signals which she could not but have seen, as the captain had sent up a rocket, which he had preserved in the water-proof chest. Darkness now hid her from our view; and we sat down, wondering that no answering signal had been displayed to our call for succor.