Nearly a month passed away since the evening on which I listened to the story of Foul-Weather Don, and no ship had yet passed within a dozen miles of the mouth of the bay. So all hands began to grow very impatient, and divers schemes were proposed, such as shifting our quarters to some other point of the coast, where we might have better luck. It was then that I, for the first time, called to mind the boat which I had left in the creek, where I first landed on the island. Now, as I had heard many stories of buccaneers putting to sea in boats or canoes, and boarding and capturing Spanish vessels, it occurred to me, that if we could get possession of the Frenchman’s skiff, we could divide our party between it and the canoe, leaving ample room for the stowage of provisions and water for a cruise. This scheme I imparted to Stout Jem, by whom it was received with approbation. We were nine in number, well armed, and therefore of quite sufficient force to capture any Spaniard, not a man of war, which we were likely to fall in with. It was therefore resolved that Le Picard, one of our Frenchmen, Blue Peter, and Nicky, should start, under my guidance, for the cove to the westward, and if we found the boat, should navigate her round the coast to the bay, where the rest of the party would be prepared with provisions and water, ready to stow on board, so that, in company with the canoe, we could put to sea at once. No time was lost in putting the scheme into execution. Meinheer, who knew something of sail-making, cut out a small square sail or lug, which we were to carry with us, and which would suit the boat, it being easy for us to cut and fashion a mast and yard after we had found her. We also carried a good-sized keg for water, and a small quantity of beef and cassava bread, trusting chiefly, however, to our guns for our subsistence.