ABSTRACT
The authors' found a cayman, ten feet and a half long, fast to the end of the rope. Nothing now remained to do, but to get him out of the water without injuring his scales, hoc opus, and hic labor. The authors' mustered strong: there were three Indians from the creek, there was his own Indian, Yan; Daddy Quashi, the negro from Mrs. Peterson's; James, Mr. R. Edmonstone's man, whom the author was instructing to preserve birds; and, lastly, himself. 'Brave squad' said author to himself, 'Audax omnia perpeti, now that you have got me betwixt yourselves and danger'. We were, four South American savages, two Negroes from Africa, a creole from Trinidad, and himself, a white man from Yorkshire. In fact, a little Tower of Babel group, in dress, no dress, address, and language. The canoe was at a considerable distance, and the author ordered the people to bring it round to the place where they are.
