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sighted the sea-mark of the Peak of Teneriffe the cooper announced that the water was giving out. So they put into the port of Fyall, where they had a hospitable welcome from the English merchants. They were warned, however, that it would be well to go on board again before night-fall, for the streets were scoured by the Pycaroes, a sort of Portuguese Mohawks, or “land pyrates,” who were used to treat strangers uncivilly, snatching away their hats and looser garments. Shipping store of black pigs for fresh meat, and any quantity of peaches for dessert, they shaped a straight course for the Bermudas. All went well till they got into those unlucky latitudes, the breeding-place of gales, hurricanes, and ground-swells, when “all of a sudden” they found themselves among the breakers. They seem to have been exceptionally unfortunate in their crew, for at “this dismal alarm” the mariners, instead of standing to the tiller and the tackle, fell on their knees and shrieked for mercy. “Luckily Mate Putts, a stout seaman,” believed that Heaven helps those who help themselves, and shouted for volunteers. “Is there no good fellow that will stand to the helm and loose a sail?” With the first dawn of day they saw the breakers, or “breaches,” on every side of them; but by that time the seamen were under command again, and had in some degree recovered their nerve. Perhaps they were more demonstrative than discipline would permit under smart officers of our own time. The ship having grounded and then got clear again, “the seamen (like so many spirits) surveyed each other, as if they doubted the reality of the thing, and shook hands like strangers or men risen from the other world.” Shoals of porpoises portended wild weather, and speedily those sinister portents were verified. The top-hamper went with crash after crash, and mighty seas broke over the forecastle. The Colonel and his two comrades “shared liberally in the general consternation.” Even Mate Putts, though he was everywhere, and did his duty like a man, was by no means encouraging in his language. For days they had little leisure to eat, and the passengers had no appetite. So it was of the less consequence that the cook-room had been swept away, and that the only means of serving hot messes to the 330 was “by sawing a cask in the middle and filling it with ballast, which made a hearth to parch peas and broil salt beef; nor could this be done but with great attendance, which was many times frustrated by being thrown topsy-turvy in spite of all circumspection, to the great defeat of empty stomachs.” All the spars and rigging had gone by the board, save the stump of the foremast; so when the weather lulled it became a question of rigging up jury-masts, and getting the ship under some sort of sail. Crew and captain were inclined to despair, and even Mate Putts had nothing more to suggest, when “Tom Reasin (a friend at need that would not be baffled by any difficulty) showed by his countenance he had a mind to try his skill to bring us out of this unhappy crisis. To encourage him the more, all passengers did promise and subscribe to reward his service in Virginia by tobacco, when God should enable us to do so.” The Colonel adds, with quaint cynicism, “the proportions being set down, many were the more generous because they never