eserver. He found some
pieces of oiled cloth, which he tied tightly over the open mouths of the
jars and fastened them with cords. He was satisfied that this unwieldy
contrivance would support him in the water.

Among other things he had found in his rummagings about the hold was an
old knife, and with this in his hand he now sat waiting for a good
opportunity to attack his sentinel.

This came soon after nightfall. A man descended with a lantern to see
that the prisoner was still secure,--let us hope that it was not the
soldier who had kindly informed him of his fate,--and as soon as he was
fairly in the hold Bartholemy sprang upon him. There was a fierce
struggle, but the pirate was quick and powerful, and the sentinel was
soon dead. Then, carrying his two jars, Bartholemy climbed swiftly and
noiselessly up the short ladder, came out on deck in the darkness, made
a rush toward the side of the ship, and leaped overboard. For a moment
he sank below the surface, but the two air-tight jars quickly rose and
bore him up with them. There was a bustle on board the ship, there was
some random firing of muskets in the direction of the splashing which
the watch had heard, but none of the balls struck the pirate or his
jars, and he soon floated out of sight and hearing. Kicking out with his
legs, and paddling as well as he could with one hand while he held on to
the jars with the other, he at last managed to reach the land, and ran
as fast as he could into the dark woods beyond the town.

Bartholemy was now greatly in fear that, when his escape was discovered,
he would be tracked by bloodhounds,--for these dogs were much used by
the Spaniards in pursuing escaping slaves or prisoners,--and he
therefore did not feel safe in immediately making his way along the
coast, which was what he wished to do. If the hounds should get upon his
trail, he was a lost man. The desperate pirate, therefore, determined to
give the bloodhounds no chance to follow him, and for three days he
remained in a marshy forest, in the dark recesses of which he could
hide, and where the water, which covered the ground, prevented the dogs
from following his scent. He had nothing to eat except a few roots of
water-plants, but he was accustomed to privation, and these kept him
alive. Often he heard the hounds baying on the dry land adjoining the
marsh, and sometimes he saw at night distant torches, which he was sure
were carried by men who were hunting for him.