ing, made the
most diffuse inquiries about it. Finally, on the twenty-seventh of
September, they took us from Khakodale to Matsmai, the capital of the
island, which is situated on the southern coast, where we were
immediately immured in a strongly fortified building, which stood on a
hill.

IV.

At the first look which we took of our quarters, we thought that we
had seen the sun for the last time, for although without, the day was
clear and bright, yet within almost total darkness reigned.

Imagine a four cornered shed, five and twenty paces long, fifteen
wide, and some twelve feet high, three sides of which were walled up
without the smallest opening, and the fourth covered with a strong
wooden grating made of bars placed about four inches from each other.
In the grating was a door and little gate, but both securely bolted.
In the middle of the shed stood a couple of cages, likewise made of
wooden bars, and separated from each other and the wall, by narrow
passages. One of these cages was six feet square and ten high; the
other was of the same heighth and breadth, but only eight feet high.
In the latter were the sailors, and in the former, Moor, Chleb Nikow,
and I. The entrance to each of them was so narrow that one was obliged
to creep through it. The door was made of thick beams and fastened by
means of a strong iron bolt, over which was a little opening through
which they put our food, when they gave it to us. The wall of each
cage, which was opposite that of the other, was made of boards, so
that we could not see the sailors nor they us. Outside of the grating
which formed one side of the shed, was a sentry box, in which two
soldiers kept a continual watch. They could see us all, and did not
take their eyes off us for a single moment.

During the night they entered the shed every half hour, walked around
our cages and looked in through the bars. From sunset until the break
of day, numerous watchmen went the rounds with lanterns, and struck
the hours with a couple of sticks.

At night our prison was still more dreary, for we had neither light
nor fire. A lamp set in a paper lantern, burned in the guard-house,
and threw a pale, sickly light into the shed, which it would not have
been sufficient to illumine, under any circumstances. Except the
scanty portion which the rays of this light fell on, all the shed was
shrouded in impenetrable darkness. The rattling which ensued from the
opening and shutting of door