I may as well describe her. She was about ten years old, tall for her age; she was very fair, with deep blue eyes, and very dark hair; her countenance was very animated and expressive, and she promised to be a very handsome woman. Her father doted upon her, for he had no other child; he had married late in life, and his wife had died a few days after Minnie was born. She was very affectionate in disposition, and very sweet-tempered; up to the present she had received but little education, and that was one principal reason for Mr Vanderwelt's wishing to return to Holland. I soon became as one of the family, and certainly was treated as such. Minnie was very curious to know what it was that I carried about my neck in the seal-skin pouch, but I never could tell either her or her father what it really was. Mr Vanderwelt very often asked me if I liked being at sea, and I invariably replied in the affirmative. At last the frigate was to sail, and I had but one more evening to pass with them. Mr Vanderwelt appeared very grave, and little Minnie would every now and then during the evening burst into tears at the idea of our separation. At last the hour of parting arrived--it was very painful. I promised to write to them, and Mr Vanderwelt told me that his house was always ready to receive me, and begged that if I wanted anything I would let him know. I cried, myself, when I left the house--the first time that I ever cried, I believe, on such an occasion. The next morning we were again under weigh, to rejoin the admiral at Jamaica. Bob Cross had told me that he wished to have a little talk with me in the first watch, and I met him on the gangway, our usual rendezvous.