The wind blowing steady, the ship was easy to manage, so we speedily set to rummage our prize. Going into the hold, we found that she had little aboard save some campeachy-wood and some cocoa-nuts, and a couple of old brass guns, of about six pounds calibre, which seemed to have been put there for ballast. In the cabin was a good store of powder and lead for casting bullets, which was exceedingly valuable to us, and several long-barrelled muskets in good condition. The best part of the prize, however, was her storeroom, as it contained a great quantity of rope, canvas, and other things appertaining to the use of a ship. We also found a tool chest and a medicine chest, both of which were very welcome to us. In navigating the schooner, we, of course, divided ourselves into two watches—the larboard and the starboard watch, Nicky and I having the one, and Le Picard and the Indian the other. We also reefed our sails so as to have the ship snugger, and the better prepared for squalls should any happen. We made good progress that night when the land-breeze blew, and hoped next day, by evening, to observe the headlands of the Marmousettes. Catching sight, however, soon after sunrise, of a sail close in shore, and not wishing, in our weak condition, to be overhauled, we stood away directly to sea, so that, by noon, only the blue mountain ridges of Hispaniola were visible. In the afternoon we put about ship, and made again for the land. This long stretch caused us to lose much time, so that we had another night’s navigation before us ere we could work up to our bay. Nicky and I had the mid-watch. It was a glorious night. We were running five or six knots, with the cool land-breeze sighing in our sails. The heaven was one vault of stars, and, lying on deck wrapped up in folds of old canvas, while Nicky held the tiller beside me, I fixed my gaze upon the Southern Cross, that beautiful cluster of stars which shines only in the tropics, and which, appearing in the solemn and thoughtful night, always caused me to feel that I was in a strange part of the world, even more than the curious animals, and plants, and men, which one sees daily and ordinarily about one, when abroad. And yet, beautiful as the constellation was, methought it had less charms than the Plough, and the bright belt of Orion circling about the polar star, which I used to gaze upon in the long night-watches at home. As I thought of these, I thought of the old fisher-boat tossing upon the wild bay of St. Andrew’s, or lying stilly at her grapnel in the mouth of the Balwearie burn, while my mother and I sat with our palms mending nets upon the sand-hill in the sun. I think I would have been a great day-dreamer had I not led such a stirring life as kept my muscles busier than my brain; but on these quiet clear nights, aboard ship, when all was still, save the steady murmur of the wind, and the monotonous plunge of the vessel, as she breasted the