The first thing I did was to read the vessel's name. I was then satisfied that she was a Brazilian coaster. I wrung the water from my clothes and was soon dressed up. There were no oars in the boat; if there had been I would have cut the painter and sculled with a single oar for the western shore. When I felt strong enough, I climbed up the painter to the taffrail and got on deck. No one was to be seen, so I commenced an investigation. She was a brig. On each side of the quarter-deck was a cubby-hole--a small white house with sliding-doors, just large enough for a man to sleep in. The starboard one was empty, so I knew the captain was on shore. In the port side was the mate, asleep. The cool night wind blowing on my clothes made me quite chilly. Not having decided exactly what to do, I was standing by the wheel making up my mind. A crisis was at hand. The mate crawled out of his hole, about half awake, rubbing his eyes. He caught a glimpse of me, all dressed in white, standing close to the wheel. Before I could say a word he gave a terrible yell; then he stuttered out, "Por Dios, que es esta?"--"For God's sake, what is that?" Staggering back a few steps, he turned around and ran forward, disappearing down the forecastle scuttle. Then I went to the taffrail and got the boat's painter ready for being cast off in an instant; taking my knife from my neck, I opened it and fastened the lanyard around my right wrist. If there was to be a hostile reception, I intended to cast the boat loose and jump overboard. With the wind and strong tide, I would land somewhere, even if I had no oars. So I waited for developments. In a few minutes five men came out of the forecastle. They came aft in single file, the cook at the head with a lighted candle in his hand, the mate bringing up the rear. Then, in spite of myself, I had to laugh. It was the only time in my life at sea that I ever saw a candle on ship's deck. There are two articles which an old-time salt-water sailor has the most supreme contempt for--namely, a lantern and an umbrella. When they got close to me they were a surprised lot of men. By way of introduction, I said, "Yo soy un saltador Inglés"--"I am an English deserter." They all commenced to laugh at the mate. We soon became quite friendly, all hands considering the whole affair as a good joke. Opening the cabin skylight, they told me to get in and have a good sleep. The vessel was loaded with mahogany timber. The cabin bulkheads had been taken out and the lumber loaded through the stern ports, completely filling the brig from stem to stern. The extra sails were put in the skylight on top of the cargo. That was my bed, and a good sleep I had, even if my clothes were wet.