what trade to Cuba," he continued. Then walking across the
main-hatch to the starboard side, he approached the men who were
pumping, and after inquiring about freeing her, suddenly caught a
glimpse of Manuel, as he lay upon the mattrass with his face
uncovered.

"Heavens! What! have you got the yellow fever on board at this
season of the year?" he inquired of the mate, who had just come aft
to inquire about getting some water from the pilot-boat.

"No, we've had every thing else but the yellow fever; one might as
well bin on a raft as such an infernal unlucky old tub as she is.
It's the steward, sir--he's got a touch of a fever; but he'll soon be
over it. He only wants rest, poor fellow! He's bin a bully at work
ever since the first gale. He'll mend before he gets to town," was
the reply.

"Ah! then you've had a double dose of it. It gives a fellow bringer
off them capes once in a while.--The steward's a nigger, isn't he?"
inquired the pilot.

"Nigger!--not he," said the mate. "He's a Portuguese mixed breed; a
kind o' sun-scorched subject, like a good many of you Southerners. A
nigger's mother never had him, you may bet your 'davie on that.
There's as much white blood in his jacket as anybody's got, only
them Portuguese are dark-lookin' fellers. He's no fool--his name's
Manuel, a right clever feller, and the owners think as much of him
as they do of the Skipper."

"Gammon," said the pilot to himself. "What would he think if we were