Escapes from Cayenne

61 " I don't know, sir, I have no beds, but I can give you mine and sleep on the sofa," "And my friends?" " They will find a place, they are skilful; they soon will find a comfortable bed room and make a nice bedstead."

The weather is beautiful and I sleep on deck this night. The next day at sunset, I tell the Portuguese I will take his bed. " Dear sir," says he, " I can't give it to you because I gave it to my countryman, the passenger."

"Well, sir, then I will sleep on the sofa." " You can't, sir ; I gave it to the good doctor." " Where shall I sleep, then ?" " Where you like, sir ; I put my ship at your disposal. The chief cabin is full, the forecastle is too narrow for the crew, the stem is encumbered with mud and stones, but you can sleep any where else; I don't care, I am too honest a man to refuse you a bed and a bedstead if I had any, but I have not, unhap­ pily. Do for the best, my good sir, do for the best; our voyage can't be long—a few days are soon past." " From head to foot, Mr. Portuguese, you are a blackguard." " Oh ! dear Sir, 1 assure you—" " Silence ! if you speak to me again, I will answer you with my shoe."

The cook is a youth quite unacquainted with cooking; he is steward, besides, and required very often to assist the crew; he is shipped at the rate of eight dollars per month. We help that unfortunate. The Portuguese strikes the poor boy; we tell the Portuguese to do it no more, otherwise he will be fined when the ship arrives at Boston.

After nine days of sailing we arrived at Turk's Island, and find three Boston vessels there.

Paon, Bivors and 1 land, purposely to beg our passage on board of one of them, but we cannot meet their captains and the next day they start. W e are obliged to pursue our voyage in the Sylph. Turk's Island is a British possession, a most desolate land, producing only salt, sand and rocks.

Nothing can grow there; there are neither trees nor grass—the earth is quite naked.

The inhab­ itants are almost savages, and a foreigner, for them, is an object of curiosity.

We leave Turks Island, and our condition becomes worse and worse; the bread is spoiled and filled with worms ; the flour has been finished for two or three days, and potatoes are unknown on board the Sylph.

Passengers and sailors are much dissatisfied, but the Portuguese is delighted ; he will make plenty of money with the salt he has bought, and he has already made some with his passengers.

In a few years he will be a rich man and he will say:—" 1 had much trouble to