“That was a rum sort of tale, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom as soon as we were alone.  “Do you believe him?”

“Yes,” I replied, “I believe he is sincere.”

“What! and see those great things, Mas’r Harry, out at sea?”

“I believe he saw something,” I replied, “but whether it was just as he described is another thing.  There’s plenty of room, though, in the sea for more than that, and perhaps people will find out some day that we have not seen everything that there is in the world.”

“Talk about snakes, though, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom suddenly; “where did you say we was going?”

“To Caracas first.”

“Ah!  Crackers ­that’s it.  Do you think there’ll be any snakes there?”

“Not sea-serpents, Tom,” I said laughing; “but up the country where we are going there are sure to be plenty of land-serpents.”

“Not big ones, though, Mas’r Harry?”

“I should say there will be some very big ones in the swamps by the great rivers.”

“Think o’ that now!” said Tom.  “Big serpents! ugh!  I can’t abide eels even.  I don’t know how I should get on with serpents.  But I say, Mas’r Harry, it’s all nonsense about sea-serpents, ar’n’t it?”

“I don’t know, Tom,” I replied.  “Perhaps they never grow to a very large size; but there are thousands of small ones.”

“What! sea-serpents, Mas’r Harry?”

“To be sure there are.”

“But not in the sea ­snakes couldn’t swim?”

“Indeed but they can, Tom.  Why, I’ve seen our common English snake go into a stream and swim beautifully with its head reared above the water, and after swimming about for some time, come out.”

“Think of that now!” said Tom.  “Where’s the sea-serpents, then?”

“Oh, all about the Indian and Chinese Seas.”

“Big uns?”

“I never heard of their being more than five or six feet long, but some of them are very poisonous.  People have died from their bite.”

“Have they, though?” said Tom.  “And where else are there any, Mas’r Harry?”

“Oh, they swarm in the Caspian Sea.  I’ve heard that they float about in knots of several together on calm, sunny days, and they come ashore in the shallow parts.”

“Caspian Sea!” said Tom; “where may that be ­anywhere near Crackers?”

“No, Tom,” I said; “we’ve left that behind us in the Old World.”

“And a good job too,” said Tom; “we don’t want sea-serpents where we’re going.  Why, Mas’r Harry, I shall never like to do a bathe again.”

Soon after this Tom proposed that we should try sea-fishing, but when we had borrowed lines and begun to make our preparations the weather set in so rough that we never once had a chance.  In fact there were many days when we had no opportunity of coming on deck unless we were prepared to be drenched with the spray that deluged the deck as some great wave struck the steamer’s bows, and then flew in driving showers from end to end.

There were times when I fancied that the officers looked quite serious, but they said nothing, only were very particular about the hatches being kept closed.

Then came a spell of finer weather, during which we reached Jamaica, and I was thinking of getting a few days ashore, so as to see something of this beautiful island; but it was not to be, for we found that we were very late, that the steamer into which we were to shift had been waiting for us three days, and if we did not take passage in her we should have to wait a fortnight, perhaps longer, for another.

“And I did so want to see the niggers in the sugar plantations, and taste real Jamaica rum.  Say, Mas’r Harry, that stuff people drink in England’s all gammon.”

“Why so?” I asked.

“Because it’s brown and yellow, like wine,” he replied.  “Real Jamaica rum’s quite white.”

“Well, Tom,” I said, “I don’t know that it will make any difference to us; and as to the sugar plantations and the niggers, as you call them, I daresay you will be able to see some at my uncle’s place.”

“But he don’t grow sugar, does he, Mas’r Harry?”

“I don’t know about that,” I said, “but I think so.  I know he grows a great deal of coffee.”

“Think of that, now, Mas’r Harry!  And tea, too?”

“No, he does not grow tea, Tom.”

“Well, I do wonder at that,” said Tom, “because you see tea’s better than coffee to keep to.”

“How about climate, Tom?” I said laughing.

“Climate?  Ah! yes, I s’pose that do make a difference, Mas’r Harry.  But he might grow sugar.”

“Perhaps he does, Tom,” I said, “but we shall see before very long.”

“Well, it won’t be because it isn’t hot enough,” said Tom, wiping his face.  “Phew! the sun does go it out here.”

“But it may be colder where my uncle lives, Tom.”

“Why, how can it be, Mas’r Harry, if it’s anywhere out here?”

“Perhaps he’s high up in the mountains, and there it will be much colder.”

“Ha-ha-ha!  Well, that is a good un, Mas’r Harry,” laughed Tom.  “You had plenty of schooling and I had none, but I do know better than that.  Going up closer to the sun and finding it colder!  Well, that is a rum un, and no mistake.”

I tried to explain to Tom why it was that the climate was colder in mountain regions, but I suppose I did it in too bungling a way for him to comprehend, and he stood out for his own opinion till he saw, some weeks later, a magnificent specimen of a snow-capped mountain, at which he stared in amazement; and even then he was obstinate enough to declare that, after all, the dazzling whiteness might be due to the clear transparency of crystal rock.