their heads, if not a worse one, may be in store for us, we cried, now
fairly swimming in luxuries--water and wine alike free. Although our
present good luck may be followed by times less cheerful, we preferred
to count this, we said, as compensation for past misfortunes, marking
well that "it never rains but it pours."

The cargo of wine in due course was landed at Rosario with but small
loss, the crew, except in one case, remaining sober enough to help
navigate even the difficult Parana. But one old sinner, the case I speak
of, an old Labrador fisherman, became a useless, drunken swab, in spite
of all we could do. I say "we" for most of the crew were on my side, in
favour of a fair deal and "regular supplies."

The hold was barred and locked, and every place we could think of, for a
time, was searched; still Dan kept terribly drunk. At last his mattress
was turned out, and from it rolled a dozen or more bottles of the best
liquor. Then there was a row, but all on the part of Dan, who swore blue
vengeance on the man, if he could but find him out, who had stowed that
grog in his bunk, "trying to get" him "into trouble"; some of those
"young fellows would rue it yet!"

The cargo of wine being discharged, I chartered to load alfalfa, packed
in bales, for Rio. Many deaths had occurred about this time, with
appalling suddenness; we soon learned that cholera was staring us all in
the face, and that it was fast spreading through the country, filling
towns and cities with sickness and death.

Approaching more frightfully near, it carried our pilot over the bar;
his wife was a widow the day after he brought our bark to the loading
berth. And the young man who commenced to deliver us the cargo was