The vicinity of the Canary Islands is a favorite hunting-ground for American whalers, and United States men-of-war were constantly on guard to protect them; one had just left Santa Cruz the day before we arrived. Had she remained twenty-four hours longer it would have been the end of the Georgia's cruise.
We put our prisoners on shore, and as the authorities were as anxious to get rid of us as we were to get out of that neighborhood, our absolutely necessary repairs were hurried. During our short stay a native merchant who had supplied us with some necessities invited me to take lunch at his pretty villa in the suburbs and there I first saw a gazelle, a who followed the mistress over the house and through the gardens I also learned for the first time that canary birds in the Canary Islands are green instead of yellow like the birds of commerce which are bred in cages.
After a two days' stay at Santa Cruz we got under way and on the 20th of October we had a rather amusing adventure with a bellicose Frenchman. The wind was so light that the sailing ships in sight had barely steerage way. Under steam we bore down on a bark which showed French colors, but looked like an American. As we ranged alongside of him my captain ordered me to hail him in French and I did so by bawling out through the speaking trumpet (called in these days a megaphone): "Mettez votre grand voile au mat!"—to which is French for "Heave to!"—which the excitable Gaul replied: "Je suis français, et je ne m'arrete pas pour un canaille de corsair!"—which is French for "I am a Frenchman, and I don't stop for a lowbred pirate!" We lowered a boat and I was ordered to go aboard the rude fellow's ship and tell him that he must show his papers. But when I got alongside of him I found a nice gentle, affectionate little creature of the establishment reception awaiting me. The furious Frenchman was standing in the gangway of his ship frantically waving a rusty old sword, while two men stood behind him armed with
