But the pilots, drawing their shoulders up and
repeating the refrain, "No _practico_, no _possebla_!" cursed us
bitterly, and were in a vile mood, I was told, cursing more than usual,
and that is saying a great deal, for all will agree who have heard them
that the average "Dago" pilot is the most foul-mouthed thing afloat.
Down the river and past the light-ship we came once more, this time with
no halt to make, no backing sails to let a pilot off, nothing at all to
stop us; we spread all sail to a favourable breeze, and reached Ilha
Grande eight days afterward, beating the whole fleet by two days.
Garfield kept strict account of this. He was on deck when we made the
land, a dark and foggy night it was! nothing could be seen but the
dimmest outline of a headland through the haze. I knew the place, I
thought, and Garfield said he could smell land, fog or coal-tar. This,
it will be admitted, was reassuring. A school of merry porpoises that
gambolled under the bows while we stood confidently in for the land,
diving and crossing the bark's course in every direction, also guarded
her from danger.
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