” I promised a complete discretion with great gravity. 'I have a canoe and three black fellows waiting not very far.

I am off. Could you give me a few Martini-Henry cartridges?” I could, and did, with proper secrecy. He helped himself, with a wink at me, to a handful of my tobacco. 'Between sailors — you know — good English tobacco.” At the door of the pilot-house he turned round — ”I say, haven't you a pair of shoes you could spare?” He raised one leg. 'Look.” The soles were tied with knotted strings sandalwise under his bare feet. I rooted out an old pair, at which he looked with admiration before tucking it under his left arm. One of his pockets (bright red) was bulging with cartridges, from the other (dark blue) peeped 'Towson's Inquiry,” etc., etc.