of a beaten drum, while the shallop would plunge, and jerk, and thrash, amid the cross surges, taking them on board over the larboard and starboard gunwales at once. Still, I think we would have caught the dwarf, nervous as was his arm, and swift as was his boat, had it not been for the rapidity with which he could wheel her round and round, following the crooked channels, and threading the narrow and intricate passages of the shoal, while he managed all the time to keep the canoe at great speed. Of course our boat was not so handy. Our utmost endeavours would not always suffice to keep her clear of a spit of sand, or to alter her course in time to avail ourselves of a shortcut into which the canoe would suddenly diverge. At length, my men began to show symptoms of distress; they panted at their toil, and, looking over their shoulders, began to murmur that there was no use in chasing the devil. All this while, the pilot had never ceased his impudent grin, and he seemed to be as fresh as when he had started from the side of the schooner. At length, we found ourselves in a pretty long open passage, with impassable barriers of reefs on either hand. The canoe was not more than a few fathoms ahead, for as we had flagged in our efforts, so had the dwarf relaxed in his. I thought that now was the time for a grand push, and shouting to the men that the game was in our hands, the brave fellows made a great rally—the ashen staves of the oars cracked, the water buzzed and foamed, and in a moment the boats were not more than a few feet apart. ‘Huzza, we have him now!’ I shouted. The men pulled like devils, the dwarf worked hard with his paddle; but nothing could keep before us in such a chaise—foot by foot, we overhauled the canoe. ‘Three strokes more, comrades, and he is ours.’ The men shouted, but the breath had hardly left their lips when—crack!—the bows of the shallop went smash upon a submerged spit of sand. The men were flung higgledy-piggledy, head over heels, sprawling into the bottom of the boat, while a couple of oars snapped like pistol shots. We had run upon a bar which crossed the passage, some six inches under water. The canoe, thanks to her light draught, had floated over it unhurt, and was now lying a few yards a-head—the abominable little dwarf grinning more furiously than ever. ‘If we had a musket in the boat, you should laugh on the wrong side of your mouth,’ I shouted, gathering myself up and wiping my nose, which was bleeding famously. One of our men caught up a broken shaft of oar and hurled it at the canoe. The little man, who was as quick as light in his movements, parried the missile with the broad blade of his paddle, and called out— ‘Ho! ho! pretty fellows to think of taking a ship out to sea without a pilot, when they can’t row a boat without running their noses against a post.’