" Oh, ask Pedro Vosalo," replied one of the crew, " he was born just
round the point, where you see so many sea-v/eed fires in the little
bay of Nossa Senora, and he knows all about it. Pedro, Pedro ! come
here, and tell sehor elmidico the story of the magicians."

Nothing loath, Master Pedro, a little, round-shouldered, bandy-legged
mulatto, came forward, and throwing aside the stump of his paper segar,
commenced his story, which, fortunately for the reader, I am not dis-
posed to attempt giving in the execrable patois, half Spanish and half
Portuguese, in which it was told.
For nearly a week we were struggling along in that part of the ocean,
in the neighborhood of the Cape de Verdes, which seems to have been des-
tined to an eternal alternation of squalls and calms. Since the days of
the early Spanish voyagers, who frequently suffered terrible hardships in
these latitudes, no piece of navigation has been found more trying to the
temper and patience of mariners, and el segundo capitan,'as, might be sup-
posed, profited not a little by the opportunity for the continued exercise
of his peculiar gifts. His oaths, however, did not seem to do much
good, though were it possible for a captain to take his ship through the
horse -latitudes, as is frequently done through the custom-house, by
dint of hard swearing, he was the man to do it.
