A red sun near its dropping, drew up the miasmic vapours from the mangrove-fringed reaches stretching on either side of the wharf.

Some light crafts were moored about.

A schooner was loading up with cattle--wretched diseased beasts.
Bridget watched them with shuddering repulsion--being hoisted up and slung aboard with ropes.

The men at their task swore so abominably that the police-magistrate stepped up to them and remonstrated on the plea of a lady's presence.

Bridget had never heard such swear-words.