These three went first; and just as they got under a deep shade, a bright light was thrust within an inch of Wilson's nose.

The old hag was kneeling before him, holding the lantern with uplifted hands.
"Ha, ha! my fine counsellor," she shrieked; "ye persecute a lone old body like me for selling rum--do ye?
And here ye are, carried home drunk--Hoot! ye villain, I scorn ye!" And she spat upon him.
Terrified at the apparition, the poor natives--arrant believers in ghosts--dropped the trembling consul, and fled in all directions.
After giving full vent to her rage, Mother Tot hobbled away, and left the three revellers to stagger home the best way they could.
The day following our last interview with Wilson, we learned that Captain Guy had gone on board his vessel for the purpose of shipping a new crew.

There was a round bounty offered; and a heavy bag of Spanish dollars, with the Julia's articles ready for signing, were laid on the capstan-head.
Now, there was no lack of idle sailors ashore, mostly "Beachcombers," who had formed themselves into an organized gang, headed by one Mack, a Scotchman, whom they styled the Commodore.

By the laws of the fraternity, no member was allowed to ship on board a vessel unless granted permission by the rest.

In this way the gang controlled the port, all discharged seamen being forced to join them.
To Mack and his men our story was well known; indeed, they had several times called to see us; and of course, as sailors and congenial spirits, they were hard against Captain Guy.
Deeming the matter important, they came in a body to the Calabooza, and wished to know whether, all things considered, we thought it best for any of them to join the Julia.
Anxious to pack the ship off as soon as possible, we answered, by all means.