Some of the inhabitants informed me that the negro cook belonging on board his vessel asked him one day what he should cook for his dinner. Mitchell told him to kill a pig which they had on board. The cook did not understand his answer, and knowing his ungovernable temper, dared not ask him a second time, but built his fire and had his water boiling. At twelve o'clock Mitchell asked him what he was cooking for dinner, to which the cook replied, "I did not understand what you wanted for dinner." Mitchell seized him by the hair of his head with one hand, and with a ladle in the other poured the boiling water on him until he scalded him to death. One of the sailors told him he thought that was hard usage. Mitchell immediately drew a pistol from his belt and shot the sailor dead and then threw him overboard. Captain Mitchell informed me that some years since he was cast away on the shore of the Pacific Ocean, and found it necessary to cross over the country by land to the Atlantic coast to get home, that he was arrested for not having a passport to travel. He was thrown into prison and for some misdemeanor was put into the stocks, where he had to lie on his back for some months, and while thus confined he had taken an oath that he would never die in peace until he had killed one hundred Spaniards with his own hands. Some three years after this time I accosted him in a humorous manner, by saying, "Mitchell how many have you due now?" He replied, "Seventeen, by G--d, Dunham, I have killed eighty-three with my own hands." CHAPTER IV. After ten days successful trade at Old Providence, I got under weigh and proceeded towards Musquito Shore, and in the day-time ran in near the land, but could not discover any settlements. I kept beating to the northward, keeping as near the shore as safety would admit, with a good look-out for houses or canoes. By my observations I found a strong current setting to the southward. After beating up three days, we discovered a number of Indian houses near the entrance of a bay which appeared like a good harbor. From my reckoning I supposed this place to be Cape Gracios a Dios, (mercy of God.) I carefully sounded my way into the harbor and anchored. Soon after we anchored, a canoe containing six or eight Indians, having a stripe of hair about three inches broad, extending from one ear to the other across the top of their heads, which were shaved close to the skin, came out to our vessel. They spoke to us in broken English. I asked them if this place was called the Cape. They answered "Yes." We discovered an English Island flag flying on shore near the largest house, and asking them who owned the house where the flag was flying; they answered "Admiral Dalby;" looking at me with some surprise, they exclaimed, "Don't you know Admiral Dalby?"