I saw the ugly boulders under the sloop's keel as she flashed over them, and I made a mental note of it that the letter M, for which the reef was named, was the thirteenth one in our alphabet, and that thirteen, as noted years before, was still my lucky number.

The natives of Cape Greenville are notoriously bad, and I was advised to give them the go-by.

Accordingly, from M Reef I steered outside of the adjacent islands, to be on the safe side.

Skipping along now, the _Spray_ passed Home Island, off the pitch of the cape, soon after midnight, and squared away on a westerly course.

A short time later she fell in with a steamer bound south, groping her way in the dark and making the night dismal with her own black smoke.
From Home Island I made for Sunday Island, and bringing that abeam, shortened sail, not wishing to make Bird Island, farther along, before daylight, the wind being still fresh and the islands being low, with dangers about them.