through the medium of an interpreter, who makes a terrible hash
of my replies. He talks of the 'foots of my friend's negro,' and the
'commandant's, officers', sergeant's relations,' by which I infer that
the learned linguist has never overcome the fifth lesson of his
Ollendorff. It is accordingly found necessary to conduct the rest of the
inquiry in good Castilian.

A great case has been made out against us by the commandant, who
represents us in his despatch as spies in league with any quantity of
confederates. A pocket-book full of nefarious notes and significant
scratches has been found upon me: together with a four-bladed penknife,
a metallic corkscrew, a very black lead-pencil, and an ink-eraser! In
the commandant's opinion the said notes are, without doubt, private
observations on the mysteries of the Morro, and the scratches are
nothing more nor less than topographical plans of the fortifications.

Absurd and improbable as the commandant's story may appear, it would
have had great weight against us with the fiscal, and considerably
protracted the period of our release, were it not for the fact that the
fiscal is on intimate terms with my companion's family. This fortunate
circumstance, aided by the laudable efforts of my consul, who works
wonders with his excellency the governor, enables us to be set at
liberty without further delay. There is, however, some difficulty in the
case of our black attendant, whom the authorities would still keep in
bondage, out of compliment to stern justice; but we intercede for him,
and he accompanies us from jail.

Crowds of people await outside and escort us to our studio, where dear
old Don Benigno, his amiable senora and family, welcome us with joy.
Wherever we go, we are lionised and loaded with congratulations and
condolence. A kind of patriotic sentiment is mixed up with the public
sympathy; Spanish rule being extremely distasteful to a Cuban, and any
opportunity for expressing his disgust of an incompetent ruler being
hailed by him with delight. All our Cuban friends--and, to say the
truth, many of the Spaniards themselves--are unanimous in their
disapproval of the commandant's conduct.

But I have not yet done with the commandant, as will be seen in another
chapter.

CHAPTER IX.

A WEST INDIAN EPIDEMIC.

A Cuban Physician and his Patient--A Nightmare--A Mystery--A
Cure--By the Sad Sea Waves--A Cuban
Watering-place--Lobster-hunting--Another View