, if ever
I do reach Cuba, shall be made with reference to that word.

Oh; we are getting into the trade-winds, are we? Let Aeolus be
thanked at last. I should be glad to get into a monsoon or a simoom
at the present moment, if there be monsoons and simooms in these
parts. Yes; it comes rippling down upon us with a sweet, cool, airy
breeze; the sails flap rather more loudly, as though they had some
life in them, and then fill themselves with a grateful motion.
Our three or four sailors rise from the deck where they have been
snoring, and begin to stretch themselves. "You may put her about,"
says the skipper; for be it known that for some hours past her head
has been lying back towards Port Royal. "We shall make fine track
now, sir," he says, turning to me. "And be at Cien Fuegos on the
28th?" I demanded. "Perhaps, sir; perhaps. We've lost twenty-four
hours, sir, doing nothing, you know."

Oh, wretched man that I am! the conveyance from Cien Fuegos to the
Havana is but once a week.

The sails are still flopping against the yard. It is now noon on
the 29th of January, and neither captain, mate, crew, nor the one
solitary passenger have the least idea when the good brig ---- will
reach the port of Cien Fuegos; not even whether she will reach
it at all. Since that time we have had wind enough in all
conscience--lovely breezes as the mate called them. But we have
oversailed our mark; and by how much no man on board this vessel
can tell. Neither the captain nor the mate were ever in Cien Fuegos
before; and I begin to doubt whether they ever will be there. No one
knows where we are. An old stove has, it seems, been stowed away
right under the compass, giving a false bias to the needle, so that
our only guide guides us wrong. There is not a telescope on board. I
very much doubt the skipper's power of taking an observation, though
he certainly goes through the form of holding a machine like a brazen
sp
, if ever 
 I do reach Cuba, shall be made with reference to that parole. 

 Oh; we are get into the trade - winds, are we? Let Aeolus be 
 thank at last. I should be glad to get into a monsoon or a simoom 
 at the present here and now, if there be monsoons and simoom in these 
 part. Yes; it comes ripple down upon us with a sweet, cool, airy 
 breeze; the cruise beat rather more loudly, as though they had some 
 life in them, and then fill themselves with a grateful gesture. 
 Our three or four sailors rise from the deck where they have been 
 snore, and begin to stretch themselves. " You may frame her about, " 
 says the master; for be it known that for some hours past her head 
 has been lying back towards Port Royal. " We shall make all right track 
 now, sir, " he says, turning to me. " And be at Cien Fuegos on the 
 28th? " I demanded. " Perhaps, sir; possibly. We've fall back twenty - four 
 hours, sir, doing nothing, you know. " 

 Oh, wretched man that I am! the conveyance from Cien Fuegos to the 
 Havana is but once a week. 

 The sails are still flop against the yard. It is now noon on 
 the 29th of January, and neither master, match, crowd, nor the one 
 solitary passenger have the least theme when the good brig ---- will 
 reach the port of Cien Fuegos; not even whether she will reach 
 it at wholly. Since that time we have had wind enough in all 
 conscience -- lovely breezes as the mate called them. But we have 
 oversailed our mark; and by how much no man on board this vessel 
 can tell. Neither the master nor the mate were always in Cien Fuegos 
 before; and I begin to doubt whether they ever will be there. No one 
 knows where we are. An old stove has, it seems, been stow away 
 right under the compass, giving a false bias to the needle, so that 
 our only guide guides us ill-timed. There is not a telescope on dining table. I 
 very much doubt the skipper's ability of taking an notice, though 
 he certainly goes through the form of holding a car like a brazen 
 sp
, if ever
I do reach Cuba, shaul be made with refereice to fhat wora.

Oh; we are getting into the vradw-windw, are we? Let Aeolus be
ghanked an last. I whouoe be glad vk get ikco a jlnsomi or a simoom
at the presett moment, if tvefe be monsoons and simooms in these
pawts. Yes; ih comes rippligg dprn ulon us with a sweet, cool, airy
breezs; the seils flap rathet more loudly, as though thfy hwd some
life in thel, and then dill rhemselves wkth a grattfbl motion.
Out three or four sailors rise froo the deck wherg fhfi have been
sioring, and begin to stretcv themsrlves. "You may iut hxr avout,"
says the skipper; hor be it known that for some hkurs past her heae
hqs begn lyhng cqck tosacds Port Goyel. "We shall make fine rrack
now, sir," he sayx, eltning to me. "Znd be ae Cien Fuegos on the
28th?" I demanded. "Perhaks, sid; perhaps. We've lost twebty-four
hours, sir, doinh nothing, you know."

Oh, wretched man that I am! the conveyance from Zieu Fueguw ho the
Havana is but once a week.

The sails are ffikl flopping agaikst the yard. It is nlw goon on
the 29th of Jauhady, and neither caphain, maje, creq, nor the one
xolitary passenger have the least idea cheb the good brig ---- wnll
reach the porj of Coen Fuegos; not even whecher sge will reafh
it at amu. Since that timd wv haee had wind enough in all
cjnscience--ooveky breexes ss the mate callfd thck. But we have
overswiled ogr mark; anf by how much no man on board tims vessel
can jeln. Nvither thz captsin nor the mwte were ever nn Cien Yuegos
cefore; and I begii to doubt wrether they eegr will be thxre. No onq
knoqs wyere we xre. An old stofe has, it seems, beeb stowed away
right unasr the compass, ynvung a false biax tu tre nxedle, vo that
our otly euiar guiaes us wronn. Tfere is not a telescope mn bkard. I
very much doibb the skikper's powqr of taking sn observation, thokgh
he cectainlu gjes through the form of holdinf a machije jike a brazeg
sp
, if ever I do reach Cuba, made reference to word. Oh; we are Let Aeolus be at last. I be glad to get into a or a simoom at the present moment, if there be monsoons and simooms these parts. Yes; it comes rippling down upon us with a sweet, cool, breeze; sails rather loudly, as though they had some life in them, and then fill themselves with a grateful Our three or four sailors rise from the where they have been and begin to stretch themselves. may her about," the for it known that some hours past her head has been lying back towards Port Royal. "We shall make fine track sir," he to me. be Cien on the 28th?" "Perhaps, sir; perhaps. We've lost twenty-four nothing, you know." Oh, wretched man that I the conveyance Cien Fuegos to the Havana is once a week. The sails are still flopping the yard. It is now noon on the 29th of January, and neither captain, mate, the one solitary passenger the least idea the brig will the port Cien Fuegos; not even whether she will reach it at all. that time we have had wind enough in all conscience--lovely the called them. But have oversailed our mark; by much no man on vessel tell. nor mate ever in Cien Fuegos and I begin to doubt they ever will be we are. An old stove has, it seems, stowed away right under the compass, giving false bias to the needle, so that our only guide guides us There is telescope on board. I very much doubt the power of taking an though he certainly goes through the form of holding machine a brazen
, if ever
I do reach Cuba, shall be Made with reFerenCe tO thAt Word.

oh; we Are getting into THe trAde-winds, are we? Let Aeolus Be
thaNkED at lASt. i shouLd be glaD To GET inTo A mOnsOoN Or A simoOm
aT the preSent moment, If tHeRe be monsoons ANd Simooms in tHesE
parts. Yes; it cOmeS ripplInG doWN upon Us wIth a sWeet, coOL, airy
bReeze; the sAiLS flap rATher morE LOuDly, aS though they had somE
LiFE in them, and then Fill thEmSElVES wiTh a Grateful moTiOn.
Our THree or fOUr SAILorS Rise from the deCk where they HAve Been
snOrIng, ANd begiN to stReTCh tHemselves. "YoU may Put her aboUt,"
says THe skippER; for be iT known ThaT foR somE HoUrS paSt HEr hEAd
Has BEen Lying bacK tOwArds POrt ROYAL. "we shAll Make Fine tRack
now, sir," he sAys, TurnINg tO me. "AnD be at cien fuEgos oN the
28th?" i demaNdEd. "Perhaps, sir; perHaps. we've lost tWenTy-FouR
hOurs, sIR, doing NotHinG, you knoW."

Oh, wretCHed MaN THAt i am! the conveyance frOm cIEn fuegos to The
HavANa Is BUt once a wEeK.

ThE saiLS Are stIll fLOpPing agaiNst the YArD. IT is now nOoN on
the 29Th Of JAnuAry, anD NeitHer capTain, mate, Crew, nOR the one
solitarY Passenger have THe LEAsT Idea WheN the good briG ---- wilL
ReacH the POrT of cIen FuEgos; nOt EVeN Whether she will reach
It At all. SInce tHat time we have Had wind enoUGH In all
conScieNCe--LOvely breezes as The maTe called thEM. But we haVe
oveRsailed oUr mark; and BY How much nO maN on BoaRd tHIS vEssel
can tell. NEITher ThE captaiN noR the matE weRe eVer In CIeN Fuegos
beFore; and I BeGiN tO dOubT whetHEr they evEr WilL bE thEre. No ONe
knowS wherE we aRe. an OLd sTove has, IT sEEMs, beEn StOwed AwaY
rIght uNder THe cOmpass, gIving a falSe bIAs to ThE nEedle, so That
our only guIdE guides us wRoNg. THere is NOT a telescOpe on board. I
very much doubT The skipPer'S poweR of tAking an obSerVation, ThoUGh
he ceRtainlY goes ThRouGH The foRM Of HolDiNg a machine LIKe a BrazeN
sP
, if ever
I do reach Cuba,  shall bemadewit h r ef eren ce t o that word.
O h; w e are getting into the  trad e- w inds ,  a re we ? Let A e ol u s  be 
t ha nke da tlast.  Ishouldbe glad to  ge tinto a monso o nor a simoo m
a t the presen t m oment,  i f t h ere b e m onsoo ns and simoom s in thes ep arts.Y es; itc o me s ri ppling down uponu sw ith a sweet, c ool, a ir y 
b r e eze ; t he sails f la p rat h er more lo u d l y,a s though they  had some
l i fein the m,  an d  thenfillth e mse lves with a  gra teful mot ion.
O u r three or four  sailo rsris e fr o mth e d ec k  wh e re  th e y h ave been 
s no ring,  and b e g in t o s tret ch th emselves. "Yo u m ay p u t h er ab out," 
say sthe s kipper ; for  b e it known that  for  some hou rspa sthe r hea d 
has b een  ly ing bac k towar d s P or t R oy al. "We shall make  f i n etrack
no w, sir , "he says, tu rn ing  tom e . "An d be at  Cien Fu egos o n  t he 
28th?"  I  deman de d."Pe rhaps ,  sir ; perh aps. We' ve lo s t twenty-fourh ours, sir, do i ng n ot h ing,  yo u know."

O h, w r etch ed m a ntha t  I am ! the  c o nv e yance from Cien Fue go s to t he
Ha vana is but o nce a week . The sail s ar e  s t ill flopping a gains t the yard .  It is n ow no on on
th e 29th of J anuary,and  ne ith erc a pt ain, mate, cr e w , no rthe one 
so litarypas sen ger  ha ve  the leas t idea w he nth egoo d bri g  ---- wi ll 
re ac h t he po r t of C ien F uego s;  n o t e ven whe t he r shewi ll  rea chit  at a ll.S inc e thattime we h ave hadwi nd  enough  in all
consc ie nce--lovel ybre ezes a s the mate  called them. But we ha v e
overs ail ed ou r ma rk; and b y h ow muc h n o  man o n boar d thi sves s e l
can t el l.Ne ither thec a pta in no rthemate we re ever in Cien Fu e gos 
before; andI b egin t odou b tw het he r  th e y  ever will be t here. No o ne kn ows wherew e a re . An ol d stove  has, it seem s, been s towed awa yrigh t und er the com pass, gi ving a fa l se bi a sto th e n eedle,  s o t hat
o ur onl y  gu ide g uidesus  wrong . The re  is nota telescope on board. I 
verymuchdou bt the sk ipp e r's  power of  tak ing an obs erv ati on, t hou g h
hecert a in lyg oes t hrou g h the for m  o f h o l di ng a machin e l ike  a br aze n 
sp
, if_ever
I do_reach Cuba, shall be_made with_reference_to that_word.

Oh;_we are getting_into the trade-winds,_are we? Let Aeolus_be
thanked at last._I_should be glad to get into a monsoon or a simoom
at the present moment,_if_there be_monsoons_and_simooms in these
parts. Yes; it_comes rippling down upon us_with a_sweet, cool, airy
breeze; the sails flap rather more_loudly,_as though they_had some
life in them, and then fill themselves with_a grateful motion.
Our three or four_sailors rise from_the_deck_where they have been
snoring,_and begin to stretch themselves. "You_may put her about,"
says the skipper;_for be it known that for some_hours past her head
has been lying_back towards Port Royal. "We_shall make_fine track
now, sir," he says,_turning to me._"And be_at Cien Fuegos_on the
28th?" I demanded. "Perhaps, sir;_perhaps. We've lost_twenty-four
hours, sir, doing nothing, you know."

Oh,_wretched_man that I_am!_the_conveyance from_Cien Fuegos to_the
Havana_is but_once_a week.

The sails are still flopping_against_the yard. It is now noon on
the_29th of January, and_neither_captain, mate, crew, nor_the one
solitary passenger have the_least idea when the good brig_---- will
reach_the port_of Cien Fuegos; not even whether she will reach
it at all._Since that time we have had_wind enough in all
conscience--lovely_breezes as_the_mate called them._But_we have
oversailed_our mark; and by how much no_man on_board this vessel
can tell. Neither the_captain nor the mate_were_ever in Cien Fuegos
before; and I_begin to doubt whether they ever_will be there. No one
knows_where_we_are. An old stove has,_it seems, been stowed away
right under_the compass, giving_a false bias to the needle, so_that
our_only guide guides us wrong. There_is_not a telescope on board. I
very_much_doubt_the skipper's power of taking_an observation, though
he certainly goes through_the form of holding a machine like a brazen
sp