advice, which was to ship in a dredging-machine, where his capabilities
would be appreciated.

Then, "paddling our own canoe," without further accident we reached the
light-ship, passing it on Christmas Day. Clearing thence, before night,
English Bank and all other dangers of the land, we set our course for
Ilha Grande, the wind being fair. Then a sigh of relief was breathed by
all on board. If ever "old briny" was welcomed, it was on that Christmas
Day.

Nothing further of interest occurred on the voyage to Brazil, except the
death of the little bird already spoken of, which loss deeply affected
us all.

We arrived at Ilha Grande, our destination, on the 7th day of January,
1887, and came to anchor in nine fathoms of water, at about noon,
within musket-range of the guard-ship, and within speaking distance of
several vessels riding quarantine, with more or less communication going
on among them all, through flags. Several ships, chafing under the
restraint of quarantine, were "firing signals" at the guard-ship. One
Scandinavian, I remember, asked if he might be permitted to communicate
by _cable_ with his owners in Christiana. The guard gave him, as the
Irishman said, "an evasive answer," so the cablegram, I suppose, laid
over. Another wanted police assistance; a third wished to know if he
could get fresh provisions--ten milreis' ($5) worth (he was a
German)--naming a dozen or more articles that he wished for, "and _the
balance in onions_!" Altogether, the young fellows on the guard-ship
were having, one might say, a signal practice.

On the next day, January 8th, the officers of the port came alongside in