"Very much attached to us all. Would
die for us."

She was, as in my uneducated way I have
observed very beautiful women almost
always to be, so composed, that her
composure gave great weight to what she said,
and I believed it.

Then, she pointed out to us the building
like a powder magazine, and explained to
us in what manner the silver was brought
from the mine, and was brought over from
the mainland, and was stored there. The
Christopher Columbus would have a rich
lading, she said, for there had been a great
yield that year, a much richer yield than
usual, and there was a chest of jewels besides
the silver.

When we had looked about us, and were
getting sheepish, through fearing we were
troublesome, she turned us over to a young
woman, English born but West India bred,
who served her as her maid. This young
woman was the widow of a non-commissioned
officer in a regiment of the line. She had
got married and widowed at St. Vincent, with
only a few months between the two events.
She was a little saucy woman, with a bright
pair of eyes, rather a neat little foot and figure,
and rather a neat little turned-up nose. The
sort of young woman, I considered at the
time, who appeared to invite you to give her
a kiss, and who would have slapped your
face if you accepted the invitation.

I couldn't make out her name at first;
for, when she gave it in answer to my
inquiry, it sounded like Beltot, which didn't
sound right. But, when we became better
acquainted—which was while Charker and I
were drinking sugar-cane sangaree, which
she made in a most excellent manner—I
found that her Christian name was Isabella,
which they shortened into Bell, and that the
name of the deceased non-commissioned
officer was Tott. Being the kind of neat
little woman it was natural to make a toy of,
—I never saw a woman so like a toy in my
life—she had got the plaything name of
Belltott. In short, she had no other name on the
island. Even Mr. Commissioner Pordage
(and he was a grave one!) formally addressed
her as Mrs. Belltott. But, I shall come to
Mr. Commissioner Pordage presently.

The name of the captain of the sloop was
Captain Maryon, and therefore it was no
news to hear from Mrs. Belltott, that his
sister, the beautiful unmarried young English
lady, was Miss Maryon. The novelty was, that
her Christian name was Marion too. Marion
Maryon. Many a time I have run off those
two names in my thoughts, like a bit of verse.
O many, and many, and many, a time!

We saw out all the drink that was
produced, like good men and true, and then
took our leaves, and went down to the beach.
The weather was beautiful; the wind steady,
low, and gentle; the island, a picture; the sea,
a picture; the sky, a picture. In that country
there are two rainy seasons in the year. One
sets in at about our English Midsummer; the
other, about a fortnight after our English
Michaelmas. It was the beginning of August
at that time; the first of these rainy seasons
was well over; and everything was in its
most beautiful growth, and had its loveliest
look upon it.

"They enjoy themselves here," I says to
Charker, turning surly again. "This is
better than private-soldiering."

We had come down to the beach, to be
friendly with the boat's-crew who were
camped and hutted there; and we were
approaching towards their quarters over the
sand, when Christian George King comes
up from the landing-place at a wolf's-trot,
crying, "Yup, So-Jeer!"—which was that
Sambo Pilot's barbarous way of saying, Hallo,
Soldier! I have stated myself to be a man
of no learning, and, if I entertain prejudices,
I hope allowance may be made. I will
now confess to one. It may be a right one
or it may be a wrong one; but, I never did
like Natives, except in the form of oysters.

So, when Christian George King, who was
individually unpleasant to me besides, comes
a trotting along the sand, clucking "Yap, So-
Jeer!" I had a thundering good mind to let
fly at him with my right. I certainly should
have done it, but that it would have exposed
me to reprimand.

"Yup, So-Jeer!" says he. "Bad job."

"What do you mean?" says I.

"Yup, So-Jeer!" says he, "Ship Leakee."

"Ship leaky?" says I.

"Iss," says he, with a nod that looked as if
it was jerked out of him by a most violent
hiccup—which is the way with those savages.

I cast my eyes at Charker, and we both
heard the pumps going aboard the sloop, and
saw the signal run up, "Come on board;
hands wanted from the shore." In no time
some of the sloop's liberty-men were already
running down to the water's edge, and the
party of seamen, under orders against the
Pirates, were putting off to the Columbus
in two boats.

"Oh Christian George King sar berry
sorry!" says that Sambo vagabond, then.
"Christian George King cry, English fashion!"
His English fashion of crying was to
screw his black knuckles into his eyes, howl
like a dog, and roll himself on his back on the
sand. It was trying not to kick him, but I
gave Charker the word, "Double-quick,
Harry!" and we got down to the water's
edge, and got on board the sloop.

By some means or other, she had sprung such
a leak, that no pumping would keep her free;
and what between the two fears that she would
go down in the harbor, and that, even if she
did not, all the supplies she had brought
for the little colony would be destroyed by
the sea-water as it rose in her, there was
great confusion. In the midst of it, Captain
Maryon was heard hailing from the beach.