When the last boat was about leaving the shore, “Smut,” _alias_ the blacksmith, and our friend Mackey, stepped in, and, accordingly, _stepped out_, as that was the last we heard of them. We were sorry to lose Mackey, as in doing so we lost one great source of amusement; but he was gone, and, before it was known on board that they had deserted, the “Planter” was off, with square yards and a stiff breeze. Some of the crew one day started for the shore in a small canoe, and before they had got half way it capsized, slightly spilling them out. They had a fine ducking, as well as a long swim for it. The same day, we, in company with another shipmate, undertook to navigate one of the canals in a small canoe, but, not exactly understanding the crooks and turns of the “ditch,” had the misfortune to be capsized in the mud, and received a good soaking before we “made the land.” Hardly a day had passed since our arrival in port that we had not turned our eyes large-islandward, and longed for a stroll among its mountains, valleys, and groves, but had delayed the intended visit from the want of a suitable guide. On Friday, the 20th, however, that want was supplied by Zegrah offering his services for the occasion. We accepted them with pleasure, and, in company with two other shipmates, crossed the channel in a canoe. In low tide this channel is fordable. We found the houses were not so large nor comfortable as on the small island, nor so neatly kept, and are more scattering. We encountered many ruins and walls here also, but no canals. After rambling over hills and rocks, through woods and swamps, and finding ourselves completely covered with mud, we made our way back, having encountered nothing worthy of note, and our bright anticipations, which we had long cherished, just about as near realized as thousands of others that we have had. But we must learn wisdom by experience, we thought, and thus consoled ourselves.