fear of her being robbed at night. The cabin, to be sure, was broken into, but it was done in daylight, and the thieves got no more than a box of smoked herrings before “Tom” Ledson, one of the port officials, caught them red-handed, as it were, and sent them to jail. This was discouraging to pilferers, for they feared Ledson more than they feared Satan himself. Even Mamode Hajee Ayoob, who was the day-watchman on board—till an empty box fell over in the cabin and frightened him out of his wits—could not be hired to watch nights, or even till the sun went down. “Sahib,” he cried, “there is no need of it,” and what he said was perfectly true.
At Mauritius, where I drew a long breath, the Spray rested her wings, it being the season of fine weather. The hardships of the voyage, if there had been any, were now computed by officers of experience as nine tenths finished, and yet somehow I could not forget that the United States was still a long way off.
The kind people of Mauritius, to make me richer and happier, rigged up the opera-house, which they had named the “ Ship Pantai .” All decks and no bottom was this ship, but she was as stiff as a church. They gave me free use of it while I talked over the Spray ’s adventures. His Honor the mayor introduced me to his Excellency the governor from the poop-deck of the Pantai . In this way I was also introduced again to our good consul, General John P. Campbell, who had already introduced me to his Excellency, I was becoming well acquainted, and was in for it now to sail the voyage over again. How I got through the story I hardly know. It was a hot night, and I could have choked the tailor who made the coat I wore for this occasion. The kind governor saw that I had done my part trying to rig like a man ashore, and he invited me to Government House at Reduit, where I found myself among friends.
It was winter still off stormy Cape of Good Hope, but the storms might whistle there. I determined to see it out in milder Mauritius, visiting