It was a wonderful change from the stormy, tossing Atlantic, with its bitter winds and chilling cold, to the calm transparency of the brilliantly-blue tropic waters, where everything looked so unclouded and so bright.  When we neared one or other of the islands, everything seemed so fresh that we began to forget the perils and troubles of our long, uneventful, but sufficiently troubled voyage.  For there were golden or dazzlingly white sands, upon which the calm sea softly rippled, while close down to the water’s edge we could see what Tom called spike plants and sweep’s-brush trees ­these being his names for plants of the Yucca family and lovely slender-tufted palms.

When we gazed down into the clear waters from the deck of our comparatively small steamer, we could see fish in plenty, for the brilliant sun seemed to light up the sea beneath the vessel’s keel, while as the screw churned up the water and the steamer rushed on, the scaly occupants of the deep flashed away to right and left, darting out of sight like so many shafts of silver through the sunny depths.

It was a wonderful change from cold and chill to a delicious atmosphere, where the soft sea-breeze fanned our cheeks, though we soon became aware of the fact that the sun possessed power such as we had never experienced before.

“Why, it’s like as if it came through a burning glass, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom; “and, I say, just you try to touch that copper hood thing that goes over the compass.  I did, and it burned my hand just as if it had come out of a hot fire.”

“Well, I don’t want to burn my hands, Tom,” I replied.  “I can see how hot it is by the pitch standing up in beads all along the ropes.”

“And it’s making black icicles outside some of the boards, Mas’r Harry, only they’re soft instead of hard.  I say, isn’t it jolly?”

The next day it was a great deal hotter, for there was not a breath of air, and Tom came to me as I was hanging listlessly over the side, for I was too hot to stir.

“Say, Mas’r Harry,” he said, “isn’t this what they call being in the tropics?”

“Yes, Tom; this is the tropics.”

“Well, they’re hot tropics, and no mistake ­out-and-out hot uns.  It won’t get any warmer than this, will it?”

“Warmer, my lad?” said one of the sailors; “why, this is nothing to what it is sometimes.  I’ve known it so hot that the fellows have been half-roasted, and when the skipper’s piped all hands to bathe in a lugsail overboard, to keep away the sharks, you’ve heard the lads sizzle as they jumped into the water.”

“They got quite red-hot, then?” said Tom quietly.

“Well, hardly red-hot, though they were mostly very red ­more brown-hot, I should say.”

“Thanky,” said Tom.  “Much obliged;” and the sailor went away chuckling.

“He thinks I believe him, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom quietly; “but I’m not quite such a fool as all that.”

“Oh! never mind their nonsense, Tom,” I said; “there are too many beautiful things to see, for us to pay heed to all that these fellows say.”

“Ah! you’re about right there, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom; “but somehow I am a bit disappointed.”

“Why?” I asked.

“At not getting ashore.  Only think of it, Mas’r Harry! having a gun apiece, and going wandering up the country somewhere, seeing all there is in one of these islands.”

“Have patience, Tom,” I replied; “and I daresay you’ll get as much adventure as you’ll care to have.”

I did not know how true a prophet I was then.  In fact, perhaps if I could have foreseen all we should have to go through, I might have shrunk back from my undertaking.

Farther and farther every day now we went on and on, putting in at first one island port and then another, but never having time to do more than just go ashore.  A visit up the country was quite out of the question.

“It’s a rum un, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom, on our first landing; and his broad countrified face expanded into a grin as he stopped opposite a stout old negro woman who was selling fruit.  No sooner did she see Tom displaying his white teeth than she showed hers ­two long rows like ivory ­and these two stood smiling one at the other till Tom recovered himself, and invested sixpence in plantains and oranges.

“They’re black enough out here, and no mistake, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom; “and oh, I say, just you taste these ­they’re splendid.”

The waving cocoa palms and the beautiful flowers that we saw brought into the bright little market made me feel, like Tom, that I should like to go farther afield; but I comforted myself with the recollection that we should soon be at our destination, and that then there would be plenty to see and do.

Back on board once more, we spent our time basking in the sunshine, drinking it in as it were, for it seemed so delightful in spite of its heat after our dull, cheerless, hazy home in the winter season.

I took no note of how the time went, and this part of the voyage, though in a slow clumsy boat, seemed far the quickest portion of the journey, so that I was quite surprised when one morning I came on deck, and found not only that we were in sight of land, but in sight of port ­my landing port ­the end of my sea journey, for we were right across the Gulf of Mexico, abreast of La Guayra, where the orders were given, and anchor was dropped in the open roadstead, where, calm as it was, we could still feel the great swell that came softly sweeping in, making the great steamer rock and roll first to this side then to that, till, heavily laden though she was, she careened over so that her copper glistened in the sun.

I was beginning to feast my eyes upon the beauty of the place, when Tom, who was right forward, shouted to me to come, and as I glanced at him I saw that he was waving his hands so excitedly that there must be something worth seeing, and I ran forward.

“Here’s something for you to have a look at, Mas’r Harry,” he cried.  “You recollect that big pike the sea-serpent sailor told us about ­ugh! four feet long didn’t he say?”

“Yes, Tom; but there are no pike here.”

“No pike, Mas’r Harry!  Why, here’s a couple of ’em cruising about just under the bows here, and you can see ’em as plain as plain, and they’re twelve or fourteen foot long at least.”

“Yes, Tom,” I said, as I climbed on to the bulwark, and sheltering my eyes gazed down into the beautiful water, where the bottom was plainly visible many feet below.  “Yes, Tom,” I said, “they’re twelve or fourteen feet long at least, but they are not pike.”

“Not pike, Mas’r Harry!  What are they then?”

“Sharks, my lad,” I replied.  “Sharks.”

“What, them?” he cried excitedly as he stared down.  “So they’re sharks are they?  Well, I’m glad I’ve seen ’em anyhow; but I shouldn’t have known that they were sharks.  Mustn’t bathe here then,” he continued; “that is if all they say about sharks is true.”

“I believe it’s true enough, Tom,” I said.

“Let’s try ’em, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom eagerly.

“Try them!  What, bathe?  Why, Tom, you must be mad!”

“I never said a word about bathing, Mas’r Harry,” he responded rather grumpily.  “I said, Let’s try ’em.  I say if we had a big hook and line, Mas’r Harry,” he continued, with a broadly comical grin, “and baited with nice fat little niggers, what sport we should have.”

“Nice fun for the little niggers as you call them, Tom,” I said.

“Yes, it wouldn’t be very nice for them, Mas’r Harry.  But I say, let’s see if they’d go at a bait.”

“How?” I cried.

“Stop a moment, and I’ll show you,” he said; and running to where one of the firemen was having a quiet pipe on deck, I saw Tom accost him, and then go down into the stoke-hole, to come up again directly with a big lump of slaty coal, bearing which he joined me.

“Let’s drop this in gently,” he said, “just over them; or, no, it would make such a splash some of the sailors would come to see.  I’ve got a bit of string in my pocket.”

Tom always had a bit of string in his pocket, and unrolling it he loosely tied it round the lump of coal, and then getting well on the bulwark raised the coal gently up and over the side, beginning to lower it down.

“Take care you don’t go over instead of the coal, Tom,” I said with a grim smile.

“Oh, I say, Mas’r Harry, don’t talk like that!” he cried; “it’s enough to give a chap the shudders.  It was only my fun about the little niggers.  Now, then, I think I can shake it out of the loop.”

The sharks were just below us, and eight or ten feet down, as Tom lowered the piece of coal right to the surface, without making any splash and disturbing the water so as to interrupt our view of what we hoped would take place.  Then giving the string a jerk he loosened the coal, which began to descend rapidly, its bright black surface flashing in the brilliant sunshine till it was half-way down, when there was a tremendous swirl in the water, which danced and flashed and obscured our vision, only that we caught sight of something ­of two somethings ­quite white, and then by degrees the water calmed down, and there were the two sharks still there, but turned round with their heads in a fresh direction.

“Why, they took the coal, and one of ’em’s swallowed it, Mas’r Harry,” cried Tom excitedly.

“No, Tom:  I think I can see it right down below there,” I said; “but they did have a try at it.”

“What are you young fellows doing there?” said a voice; and, as we turned sharply round, there stood the captain.  “What! are you fishing?”

“No, sir,” said Tom; “I only dropped something over to see if the big fish there would take it.”

“Oh, I see!” he exclaimed.  “Sharks!  Yes, there are plenty of them, my lads.  No bathing here.  You should get the cook to give you a lump of bad pork, and hang that over by the string:  that would fetch them.”

Tom took the hint, and running to the cook told him what the captain said, returning at the end of a minute to where I was still watching the two monsters, the captain having gone.

“I’ll tie this tight on, Mas’r Harry,” cried Tom, suiting the action to the word.  “I say, don’t I wish we had a hook!”

The piece of meat was soon firmly secured, and twisting one end of the string round his hand, Tom took his old place beside me, chuckling and laughing, and began to lower down his bait.

“I say, Mas’r Harry, I wish it was a bar o’ soap.  If one of ’em swallowed it I wonder what he’d think of the taste.”

By this time Tom had his bait close to the water, and directly after he let it drop on the surface, where it made a little disturbance and then floated.

Almost at the same moment it appeared as if, without the slightest movement, one of the sharks was growing bigger and closer.  It seemed to fascinate us, so cautiously did it rise nearer and nearer, till all of a sudden it rolled right over on its side, showing the creamy white of its under parts; there was a gleam of teeth, a swirl in the water, and the greasy lump of salt pork disappeared.

As it did so I saw Tom’s arm give a sudden jerk, and as he uttered a yell I realised what was wrong, flinging my arms round him, and threw myself inboard, so that I dragged him with me, and we fell together upon the deck.

“Oh, my eye!” gasped Tom as we sat up on the deck; and he held up his hand, beginning to unwind the broken string from it, and showing how deeply it had cut into it before it gave way.

“What an escape, Tom!” I cried, and as I spoke I felt that I must be looking very white.

“I should have gone overboard if you hadn’t laid hold o’ me, Mas’r Harry,” he said, looking blankly in my face.  “How strong that string was, and how it cut!”

“How stupid of you to tie it round your hand like that!” I said.

“Well, I s’pose it was, Mas’r Harry,” he said ruefully; “but one didn’t think of it then.”

“Well, let’s have a look at the sharks,” I said, as the horror of what might have happened passed off.

“No, thankye, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom sulkily.  “I’ve had enough shark for one day.  My hand’s ’bout cut in two, and my arm’s ’bout pulled outer the socket, and one of my legs was twissen under me when I come down, I’ve had enough shark to last me half a lifetime.”