The Vivi was a sloop of twenty tons burden, bound for Islands Mugeres and Cozumel, places we had long desired to visit; we therefore decided to take this opportunity. The sloop was anchored before Progreso (port of Yucatan), and would start that night. At dusk we descended the slippery steps of the wooden pier, and when a big wave brought the skiff near our feet, jumped into it and were rowed to the Vivi, that looked very diminutive rocking on the dark billows, for the sea was decidedly rough. The captain helped us to scramble on deck, and we set sail immediately.
I have a dim recollection of taking possession of the cabin, which was about eight feet square, with a bench at the further end, and a berth on each side, and remember ardently wishing that all the globe was terra-firma, or that I had never been born, as well as indulging in a great many other unphilosophical thoughts that seasickness will induce, particularly when cockroaches two inches long are wandering over the victim. That was June 20, and
