domestic menials escaped to the forest when the story
became known, as they did not wish to take the place of their betters
in the "French service."

Thrice had the sun risen and set since I was a prisoner. During all
the time, my blood tingled for revenge. I was tricked, humbled and
disgraced. Never did I cease to pray for the arrival of some
well-armed _Spanish slaver_; and, towards evening of the fourth day,
lo! the boon was granted! That afternoon, a boat manned by negroes,
passed with the Spanish flag; but, as there was no white man aboard,
Brulot took it for a _ruse_ of the Mongo, designed to alarm him into
an unconditional release of his captives.

I must do the Gaul the justice to declare, that during my confinement,
he behaved like a gentleman, in supplies from the pantry and
spirit-room. Neither was he uncivil or unkind in his general demeanor.
Indeed, he several times regretted that this was the only means in his
power "to collect a promissory note on the coast of Africa;" yet, I
was not Christian enough to sympathize with the sheriff, or to return
his compliments with any thing but a curse. But, now that a Spaniard
was within hail, I felt a sudden lifting of the weight that was on my
heart. I shouted for champagne! The steward brought it with alacrity,
and poured with trembling hand the bumpers I drained to Saint Jago and
old Spain. The infection soon spread. They began to believe that a
rescue was at hand. The news was heard with dismay in the forecastle.
Brulot alone stood obstinate, but indecisive.

Presently, I called him to join me in a glass, and, as we drank the
foaming liquid, I pledged him to another "within twenty-four hours
beneath the Spanish flag." The Gaul feigned a sort of hectic hilarity
as he swallowed the wine and the toast, but he could not stand the
flash of revenge in my eye and burning cheek, and retired to consult
with his officers.

CHAPTER XXVII.

I slept soundly that night; but the sun was not clear of the forest
when I hobbled on deck in my shackles, and was searching the seaward
horizon for my beloved Castilian. Presently the breeze began to
freshen, and the tall, raking masts of a schooner were seen gliding
above the tops of the mangroves that masked the Rio Pongo's mouth.
Very soon the light wind and tide drifted her clear of the bends, and
an anchor was let go within musket shot of my prison, while springs
were run out to the bushes to give range to her broadside