I am not "spinning a yarn" merely, as sailor's say, but telling a true story of my life with all its haps and mishaps.
Now, therefore, as the _Josephine_ dashed along, all was new and strange to me; the limitless expanse of blue water shimmering in the summer sun, with flocks of flying-fish rising in the air occasionally to seek refuge from their enemies of the deep, only to fall back again below the surface after a short curving flight, to avoid the grey pelicans hovering above to attack them there; the fresh bracing breeze, which blew in my face so exhilaratingly; the swaying motion of the vessel that gave a lurch now and then, heeling over when the wind took her suddenly on the quarter as she rose on the swell; the whistling of the cordage and creaking of timbers and rattling of blocks, combined with the cheery yo-ho-hoing of the sailors as they slacked a sheet here and tightened a brace there.

Really, I was so pleased, excited, and delighted with the whole scene and its surroundings that it seemed as if I were in the ship of a dream sailing on an enchanted sea! Presently there arose out of the deep on our starboard bow the Pitons of Saint Lucia, two twin conical rocks like the Needles, only ever so much bigger, being over three thousand feet in height.

They were festooned from base to summit with beautiful evergreen foliage; and the entrance to the harbour of the island was to be seen within and beyond these outlying sentinels, stretching up inland towards a mass of purple mountains from a beach of yellow sand.
Next, we passed to the leeward of Martinique; and, then, towards sunset of the same day, as we approached Saint Kitts, islet after islet jumped up out of the sea in front of us, to the right hand and to the left.
They were all misty at first, but changed their colours from slaty grey to green as we approached them nearer, although their shape was all pretty much the same--tall sugar-loaf peaks surrounded by verdure sloping down in graceful curves to the water's edge, the surf breaking against the shore of those to leeward in clouds of spray, while the waves washed the rocky feet of those on the windward side without a ripple.
When the sun disappeared below the western horizon, Montserrat, Redonda, Nevis, Saint Christopher, and Saint Eustatius were all in sight around us; and, just at ten o'clock at night, when the moon was at the full, lighting up the scene with its silvery beams as brightly almost as if it were day, we passed between Saint Eustatius and the island of Saba.

We approached the latter within two miles, but when its north point bore west we steered for Dog Island, clearing the reefs somewhere about the middle watch.
Soon after sunrise next morning we weathered Sombrero, the last of the Antilles, and thus got fairly out into the Atlantic, leaving the West Indies behind us as we hauled our wind and bore away for the Azores-- although a long stretch of ocean had to be crossed ere we might hope to reach this half-way port on our voyage.
But I have not yet described our ship and those on board.
The _Josephine_ was an old-fashioned barque of about five hundred tons burden, built with a high poop and a topgallant forecastle, "or fo'c's'le," as seamen call it.
She was a roomy vessel, possessing great breadth of beam, which made her a staunch sea-boat in rough weather, for she could tumble about as much as she pleased without causing much damage to her timbers or risk of her stability; and this roominess, besides, allowed good accommodation aft for a large number of passengers, although in this instance I was the single solitary "landsman" aboard--that is, if a young shaver of thirteen can be dignified with such a high-sounding title! Her officers and crew consisted of eighteen hands all told; and amongst the former Captain Miles, her master, a sturdy old sea-dog of forty-five or thereabouts, is entitled to be the first described.

He had a broad honest face, with a pair of bushy, reddish-brown mutton-chop whiskers, for, unlike the sailors of to-day, the captain was always clean shaven as to his chin and upper lip, esteeming a moustache an abomination, "which only one of those French Johnny Crapaud lubbers ever think of wearing." The next officer in rank after Captain Miles was Mr Marline, the first mate, a thin wiry north countryman, with a lot of latent fun and dry humour in him; and then came Davis, the second mate, a thick-set bull- necked dark-haired Welshman, not more than twenty-four or five years of age.