We had, on this voyage, the common experiences of Chinese waters--pirates and typhoons. At the Boca Tigris, the mouth of the Canton, or Pearl, river, we were overtaken by the typhoon, and we had to anchor near an island in the midst of a number of junks. These soon proved to be pirate ships, and we were, apparently, in great danger. The pirates immediately began to draw up about us, as if meditating an attack. The little Spark would, of course, stand no chance in such a contest. I did not think she could last ten minutes in a fight with those ugly junks. The Chinese anchored their boats up close to the Spark, and I noticed that a dozen of the ugliest ruffians our own sailors had ever encountered were staring in through the cabin windows. I could not imagine what they were looking at, and went forward to see what was wrong. There was Mr. Green, sitting facing the window, his feet on the table, and making faces at the crew. He was the coolest man, I think, that I ever saw. Nothing moved him out of his imperturbable calm. The Chinamen were scowling at him, but this did not at all disconcert him. If he was going to be killed by these devils, he seemed to be thinking, he might as well die in a cheerful humor. How could he know they were not pirates in disguise? The pirates expected that we should fall an easy prey into their hands, as our coal had given out, and there was no assistance within reach. We were in a dilemma, but we attacked the woodwork of the deck, and got enough to fire up the engines and get a head of steam, when suddenly, to the amazement of the pirates, we steamed out and away. The storm having subsided, the junks were soon left far behind and we reached Macao safely. Macao was at that time the headquarters of the new slave trade. I went to the top of a high hill for the purpose of looking at the barracoons, where slaves were kept. The barracoon is, in meaning, a little barrack, but it is, in reality, a pest-hole. Here were gathered the Chinese who were to be sent as victims and slaves to the Peruvian islands. The practise was to bring Chinamen from the interior by telling them of the great riches their countrymen had found in America, which was then a name that tempted all Chinamen of the coast regions. Many Chinamen, it was known, had gone to America and done well, and the wretches that the slave-dealers wanted to ship to Peru were told that they would be sent to America. They thought they were going to California; but they were shipped to the Chincha islands, near Callao, the port of Lima, Peru.