had recently been suffering the horrors of
slavery.

George and Tom both shook hands heartily with their old friend, and then
Mr Bowen--who seemed to be pretty well acquainted with the town--led
the way into a quiet, respectable tavern near the water-side.

Having called for some sangaree in honour of the unexpected and very
agreeable meeting, George, at his friend's request, proceeded to recount
all that had happened since the eventful morning when they were
separated (for life, as each then feared) in the square at Havana. When
he had finished the story, he added--

"And now, Bowen, my dear old friend, let us know how _you_ fared among
the Dons."

"Badly enough, cap'n, badly enough," was the reply. "But you shall hear
the whole story, such as 'tis. Maybe you happen to remember the chap as
bought me--a tall, thin feller, with a nose like the beak of an eagle,
and a wicked look in his glittering black eyes. Well, as soon as this
here Don Christoval--that was his name--as soon as he'd bought all the
slaves he wanted, we was all chained together, and started on a march to
the south'ard. We travelled the whole width of that cursed island,
taking two days over the trip, and was then shipped across in a little
flat-bottomed sailin'-boat to the Isle de Pinos, where this here
Christoval had a big 'baccy plantation. It took us a whole day, after
we'd landed on the Isle of Pines, to reach the place, and on the
following morning we were set to work.

"As it happened, I was the only white slave on the plantation, and,
whether 'twas on this account, or whether 'twas because I was an
Englishman, I can't tell, but I soon found out that all hands, from Don
Christoval downwards, had a special spite against me, and seemed
determined to make the place as hot as they could for me. I was put to
all the heaviest and dirtiest work about the place, and if there was a
job that had to be done after knockin'-off time, I was the man that had
to do it.

"There was nothing but Spanish spoke about the place, so I very soon got
acquainted with the lingo, whether I liked it or not; and almost the
first thing I understood was that Mr Don Christoval had boasted that,
fierce as I was, he'd tame me so that in six months I wouldn't dare to
say my soul was my own.

"Well, you may be sure that my temper hadn't grown much more amiable
from being made a slave of, and this palaver about _taming_ just made me
worse than ever. I vowed by all tha