Paddy was right for once. But now came a new difficulty. How should he preserve the lovely creatures? They were far too tiny to skin. He got over this by simply wrapping them in brown paper, and drying or desiccating them on the hob of the hospital kitchen.
Well, one day he gave three nicely-shot and beautiful specimens to the nigger cook to do for him. What were his surprise and disgust to have them brought to him by the black fellow on a plate!
"Him done now, massa," he said.
Yes, indeed, they were done, for he had removed the paper and cooked them, feathers and all.
* * * * *
There is a species of dove or pigeon out in Jamaica that the niggers themselves consider rather delicate eating, or at all events are very fond of. It (Zenaida amabilis) suffers much from the biting of mosquitoes. Well, the niggers know this, and so they make a fire under a tree and heap green wood thereon to make a smoke. This drives the insects off; and well the doves know it does, for they soon come and settle on the tree, preferring the smoke to the mosquito bites. But, alas! they are out of the frying-pan into the fire, as they speedily fall victims to the guns of the niggers.
* * * * *
But cases of cholera were getting rife, and so the Gurnet was ordered to sea at last. She now bore up for the lone Bermudas, a group of islands that lie many degrees to the north and east of the West Indies.
The Bermudas are said to be the loveliest islands on this earth. They are certainly very beautiful; but, strange to say, one always seems to think every group of tropical islands he comes to, while sailing here and there across the ocean, more lovely and fairy-like than the last. The words of the poet rise to my mind, however, as I think of Bermuda:—
"Where the remote Bermudas ride
In the ocean's bosom unespied,
From a small boat that rowed along,
The listening winds received this song,—
'What should we do but sing His praise
That led us through the watery maze
Unto an isle so long unknown,
And yet far kinder than our own?'"