Having moored the Liberdade and weather-bitted her cables, it remains only to be said that after bringing us safely through the dangers of a tropical voyage, clearing reefs, shoals, breakers, and all storms without a serious accident of any kind, we learned to love the little canoe as well as anything could be loved that is made by hands.
To say that we had not a moment of ill-health on the voyage would not tell the whole story.
My wife, brave enough to face the worst storms, as women are sometimes known to do on sea and on land, enjoyed not only the best of health, but had gained a richer complexion.
Victor, at the end of the voyage, found that he had grown an inch and had not been frightened out of his boots.
Little Garfield—well he had grown some, too, and continued to be a pretty good boy and had managed to hold his grip through many ups and downs. He it was who stood by the bow line to make fast as quick as the Liberdade came to the pier at the end of the voyage.
And I, last, as it should be, lost a few pounds' weight, but like the rest landed in perfect health; taking it altogether, therefore, only pleasant recollections of the voyage remain with us who made it.
With all its vicissitudes I still love a life on the broad, free ocean, never regretting the choice of my profession.
However, the time has come to debark from the Liberdade, now breasted to the pier where I leave her for a time; for my people are landed safe in port.