The American consul, in a smart boat, came alongside before the _Spray_ reached the breakwater, and a young naval officer, who feared for the safety of my vessel, boarded, and offered his services as pilot.

The youngster, I have no good reason to doubt, could have handled a man-of-war, but the _Spray_ was too small for the amount of uniform he wore.

However, after fouling all the craft in port and sinking a lighter, she was moored without much damage to herself.

This wonderful pilot expected a "gratification," I understood, but whether for the reason that his government, and not I, would have to pay the cost of raising the lighter, or because he did not sink the _Spray_, I could never make out.

But I forgive him.
It was the season for fruit when I arrived at the Azores, and there was soon more of all kinds of it put on board than I knew what to do with.