towards the stern, which heightening her from the foremast all the way aft—the painted streak being made to correspond with the new bulwarks—caused the schooner to have a clumsy look, as though she were down by the head, in consequence of carrying an ill-stowed cargo. We also changed the set of the masts, by putting heavy strains upon the rigging; and lastly, we patched the sails, although they were new and good, with old canvas; conducting our operations with such good effect, that the crew swore to a man, that had they been away for a week, they would never have recognised the schooner for the ‘Will-o’-the-Wisp.’ Being at length in readiness for our cruise, we towed the ship out of the little bay, and commenced beating to windward through the islands, passing the isle called Las Sound, where the Buccaneers have a legend, that the heart of Sir Francis Drake lies buried in four caskets, of lead, of iron, of silver and of gold. I see no reason, however, for believing that his heart was not in his body when that was committed to the deep in the bay of Porto Bello, amid the thunder of artillery, and the crash of the martial music, in which the great admiral so much delighted. As we worked up against strong westerly breezes, we met with several fleets of large canoes, laden with sugar, hogs, yams, and corn, running before the trades; but as we were now approaching Carthagena, we thought it most prudent to let these piraguas pass by unmolested, hoisting Spanish colours, and making as though we were a friendly trader. So in due time, we left the westernmost of the Samballas keys to the leeward, and stood off to the north-west, designing to make a long stretch out to sea, so as to prevent any intelligence of our whereabouts being conveyed along the main land to Carthagena. Towards the afternoon of the day on which we cleared the Samballas, I having the charge of the deck, could not help noticing the miserable plight of one Simon Radley, a young sailor, who was a very quiet well-behaved fellow, and a favourite on board. When we left Jamaica, he had been very well dressed in seaman fashion; but now, he was clothed merely in rags, without a shirt, and his shoes were only bits of canvas swathed round his feet, and very coarsely sewn together. Besides all this, the poor fellow looked almost broken-hearted, and went about his work very sadly, ‘Simon Radley,’ quoth I ‘how came you in this plight? Have you lost all your clothes? Surely if you have, your comrades will lend you some, and you can make it up to them with the first of your prize-money.’