g for a
week. I was surmising what danger I should next encounter, when to my
joy I discovered that I had gained the open door from which the lioness
had escaped. I crawled in, and pulled the door to after me, thinking
myself very fortunate: and there I sat very quietly in a corner during
the remainder of the noise and confusion. I had been there but a few
minutes, when the beef-eaters, as they were called, who played the music
outside, came in with torches and loaded muskets. The sight which
presented itself was truly shocking, twenty or thirty men, women, and
children, lay on the ground, and I thought at first the lioness had
killed them all, but they were only in fits, or had been trampled down
by the crowd. No one was seriously hurt. As for the lioness, she was not
to be found: and as soon as it was ascertained that she had escaped,
there was as much terror and scampering away outside as there had been
in the menagerie. It appeared afterwards, that the animal had been as
much frightened as we had been, and had secreted herself under one of
the waggons. It was some time before she could be found. At last
O'Brien, who was a very brave fellow, went a-head of the beef-eaters,
and saw her eyes glaring. They borrowed a net or two from the carts
which had brought calves to the fair, and threw them over her. When she
was fairly entangled, they dragged her by the tail into the menagerie.
All this while I had remained very quietly in the den, but when I
perceived that its lawful owner had come back to retake possession, I
thought it was time to come out; so I called to my messmates, who, with
O'Brien were assisting the beef-eaters. They had not discovered me, and
laughed very much when they saw where I was. One of the midshipmen shot
the bolt of the door, so that I could not jump out, and then stirred me
up with a long pole. At last I contrived to unbolt it again, and got
out, when they laughed still more, at the seat of my trowsers being torn
off. It was not exactly a laughing matter to me, although I had to
congratulate myself upon a very lucky escape; and so did my messmates
think, when I narrated my adventures. The pelican was the worst part of
the business. O'Brien lent me a dark silk handkerchief, which I tied
round my waist, and let drop behind, so that my misfortunes might not
attract any notice, and then we quitted the menagerie; but I was so
stiff that I could scarcely walk.

We then went to what they called the Ran