the Island, without any exception. I took no
particular notice of more than a few, but I
found it very agreeable in that little corner
of the world to see the children, who were of
all ages, and mostly very pretty—as they
mostly are. There was one handsome elderly
lady, with very dark eyes and grey hair,
that I inquired about. I was told that her
name was Mrs. Venning; and her married
daughter, a fair slight thing, was pointed
out to me by the name of Fanny Fisher.
Quite a child she looked, with a little copy
of herself holding to her dress; and her
husband, just come back from the mine,
exceeding proud of her. They were a
good-looking set of people on the whole, but
I didn't like them. I was out of sorts;
in conversation with Charker, I found fault
with all of them. I said of Mrs. Venning,
she was proud; of Mrs. Fisher, she was a
delicate little baby-fool. What did I think of
this one? Why, he was a fine gentleman.
What did I say to that one? Why, she was
a fine lady. What could you expect them to
be (I asked Charker), nursed in that climate,
with the tropical night shining for them,
musical instruments playing to them, great
trees bending over them, soft lamps lighting
them, fire-flies sparkling in among them,
bright flowers and birds brought into
existence to please their eyes, delicious drinks to
be had for the pouring out, delicious fruits to
be got for the picking, and every one dancing
and murmuring happily in the scented air,
with the sea breaking low on the reef for
a pleasant chorus.

"Fine gentlemen and fine ladies, Harry?"
I says to Charker. "Yes, I think so! Dolls!
Dolls! Not the sort of stuff for wear, that
comes of poor private soldiering in the Royal
Marines!"

However, I could not gainsay that they
were very hospitable people, and that they
treated us uncommonly well. Every man of
us was at the entertainment, and Mrs. Belltott
had more partners than she could dance
with: though she danced all night, too. As
to Jack (whether of the Christopher Columbus,
or of the Pirate pursuit party, it made
no difference), he danced with his brother
Jack, danced with himself, danced with the
moon, the stars, the trees, the prospect,
anything. I didn't greatly take to the chief-
officer of that party, with his bright eyes,
brown face, and easy figure. I didn't much
like his way when he first happened to come
where we were, with Miss Maryon on his arm.
"Oh, Captain Carton," she says, "here are
two friends of mine!" He says, "Indeed?
These two Marines?"—meaning Charker
and self. "Yes," says she, "I showed these
two friends of mine when they first came, all
the wonders of Silver-Store." He gave us a
laughing look, and says he, "You are in luck,
men. I would be disrated and go before the
mast to-morrow, to be shown the way upward
again by such a guide. You are in luck,
men." When we had saluted, and he and
the young lady had waltzed away, I said,
"You are a pretty fellow, too, to talk of luck.
You may go to the Devil!"

Mr. Commissioner Pordage and Mrs.
Commissioner, showed among the company on
that occasion like the King and Queen of a
much Greater Britain than Great Britain.
Only two other circumstances in that jovial
night made much separate impression on
me. One was this. A man in our draft
of marines, named Tom Packer, a wild
unsteady young fellow, but the son of a
respectable shipwright in Portsmouth Yard,
and a good scholar who had been well
brought up, comes to me after a spell of
dancing, and takes me aside by the elbow,
and says, swearing angrily:

"Gill Davis, I hope I may not be the death
of Serjeant Drooce one day!"

Now, I knew Drooce always had borne
particularly hard on this man, and I knew
this man to be of a very hot temper: so, I
said:

"Tut, nonsense! don't talk so to me! If
there's a man in the corps who scorns the
name of an assassin, that man and Tom
Packer are one."

Tom wipes his head, being in a mortal
sweat, and says he:

"I hope so, but I can't answer for myself
when he lords it over me, as he has just now
done, before a woman. I tell you what,
Gill! Mark my words! It will go hard with
Serjeant Drooce, if ever we are in an engagement
together, and he has to look to me to
save him. Let him say a prayer then, if he
knows one, for it's all over with him, and he
is on his Death-bed. Mark my words!"

I did mark his words, and very soon afterwards,
too, as will shortly be taken down.

The other circumstance that I noticed at
that ball, was, the gaiety and attachment of
Christian George King. The innocent spirits
that Sambo Pilot was in, and the
impossibility he found himself under of showing
all the little colony, but especially the ladies
and children, how fond he was of them, how
devoted to them, and how faithful to them
for life and death, for present, future, and
everlasting, made a great impression on me.
If ever a man, Sambo or no Sambo, was
trustful and trusted, to what may be called
quite an infantine and sweetly beautiful
extent, surely, I thought that morning when I
did at last lie down to rest, it was that Sambo
Pilot, Christian George King.

This may account for my dreaming of him.
He stuck in my sleep, cornerwise, and I
couldn't get him out. He was always flitting
about me, dancing round me, and peeping
in over my hammock, though I woke and
dozed off again fifty times. At last, when I
opened my eyes, there he really was, looking
in at the open side of the little dark hut;
which was made of leaves, and had Charker's
hammock slung in it as well as mine.