I have ever since regretted, however, that I did not take his advice.
There seemed to be no protection for the vessel; the law that a ship
must be allowed to live was unheeded; in fact this law was reversed and
there were sharpers and beach-combers at every turn ready to take
advantage of one's misfortunes or even drive one to despair. I
concluded, finally, to shake the lot of them, and proceeding up the
Parana, moored again at the berth where, a few weeks before, we had
taken in the cargo. Spans and tackle were rigged, and all was made ready
to discharge. It was now, "Come on, McCarthy, or McCarthy, come on!" I
didn't care which, I had one _right_ on my side, and I kept that always
in view; namely, the right to discharge the cargo where I had first
received it; but where the money to buy ballast and pay other charges
was to come from I could not discover.

My merchant met me in great concern at my "misfortunes," but "carramba!"
(zounds) said he, "my own losses are great." It required very little
reasoning to show me that the least expensive course was the safest one
for me to adopt, and my merchant offering enough to pay the marketing, I
found it wisest not to disturb the cargo, but to lay up instead with it
in the vessel and await the reopening of the Brazilian ports. This I
did.

My merchant, Don Manuel, is said to be worth millions of _pesos_. The
foundation of his wealth was laid by peddling charcoal, carrying it at
first, to his credit be it said, on his back, and he was then a good
fellow. Many a hard bargain has he waged since, and is now a "Don,"
living in a $90,000 house. The Don doesn't peddle charcoal any more.

Moored at Rosario, waiting, waiting; but all of us well in body, and