On the following morning, after breakfast, when the family were assembled in the library, Ethelston, at the request of Colonel Brandon, commenced the narrative of his adventures. As the reader is already acquainted with them, until the closing scene of poor Nina’s life, we shall make mention of that part of his tale no further than to state that, so far as truth would permit, in all that he told, as well as all that he forbore to tell, he feelingly endeavoured to shield her memory from blame; the sequel of his story we shall give in his own words. “I remained only a few days with L’Estrange after his daughter’s death; during which time I used my best endeavours to console him; but, in spite of the affectionate kindness which he showed me, I felt that my presence must ever recall and refresh the remembrance of his bereavement, and I was much relieved when the arrival of one of his other married daughters, with her family, gave me an excuse and an opportunity for withdrawing from Guadaloupe. The vessel which had brought them from Jamaica proposed to return immediately, and I easily obtained L’Estrange’s permission to sail with her, only on the condition of not serving against France during the continuance of these hostilities: when I bade him farewell he was much affected, and embraced me as if he were parting with a son; so I have at least the melancholy satisfaction of knowing that I retain his best wishes and his esteem. “My voyage to Port Royal was prosperous. On arriving I found a brig laden with fruit, just about to sail in a few days for New Orleans. I confess I did not much like the appearance either of the vessel or her commander; but such was my impatience to return to Mooshanne, that I believe I would have risked the voyage in an open boat.” Here Ethelston looked at Lucy, on whose countenance a blushing smile showed that she well knew the meaning of his words. “I embarked,” continued he, “accompanied by my faithful Cupid, on board the Dos Amigos: the captain was an ignorant rum–drinking Creole; besides himself there was only one white man in the crew, and the coloured men were from all countries and climates, the most reckless and turbulent gang that I had ever seen on board a ship. During the first half of the voyage, the weather being favourable, we crept along the southern coast of Cuba, and passed almost within sight of the Isla de Pinos, which I had so much cause to remember; thence we steered a north–westerly course, and doubled the Cape of Saint Antonio in safety, whence we had a prospect of a fair run to the Belise; but, two days after we had lost sight of the Cuban coast, it came on to blow a gale of wind, which gradually increased until it became almost a hurricane from the south–west.