"Tropics, Cap. Jim?"
"Yes; the West Indies."
"In de name of de Lawd, Cap. Jim, how dem trees done get here from de West Indies? Dat a long way off, ain't it?"
Captain Cromwell made no reply. He was too intently studying the island. All of a sudden he was startled by his crew sinking on its knees on the deck with an exclamation. He turned and saw the negro's skin blanched with terror.
"Fo' de Lawd Gawd, Cap. Jim, dat thing am movin'."
"Skidoo, John, skidoo," said the Captain, skeptically.
"'Deed an' double-deed, it is, Cap. Jim. You jes' look behind it ober dar at Kent Island."
The Captain peered as directed, while the negro eyed him doubtfully.
"Great Jehoshaphat!" the white man cried. "You're right, John, you're right. That there island is a-movin' up the bay."
"Ain't yer skeered, Cap. Jim?" asked the crew, with a shudder. "'Pears to me it's mighty like de debbil."