A SKETCH IX THE TROPICS. 153 



miracle that I am still alive. Out of seven hundred 

 prisoners, but a handful of emaciated objects remain 

 to testify to the barbarous cruelty of our captors. A 

 fortnight back they took me out of my prison, a mere 

 skeleton, in order to preserve my life, and quartered 

 me in a house in the city. Two days ago, however, 

 I heard that I was to return to the dungeon. It was 

 my death-warrant, for I was convinced I could not 

 live another week in that frightful cell. A true 

 friend, in spite of the danger, and by dint of gold, 

 procured me a pass that had belonged to a Spaniard 

 dead of the yellow fever. By means of that paper, 

 and by your assistance, we trusted to escape. Ca- 

 /i/'fii.n /" said the young man, starting to his feet, and 

 clasping Eeady's hand, his hollow sunken eye gleam- 

 ing wildly as he spoke, " my only hope is in you. If 

 you give me up I am a dead man, for I have sworn 

 to perish rather than return to the miseries of my 

 prison. I fear not death I am a soldier ; but alas 

 for my poor wife, my helpless, deserted children ! " 



The Yankee captain passed his hand across his 

 forehead with the air of a man who is puzzled, then 

 turned away without a word, and walked to the other 

 end of the vessel. Giving a glance upwards and 

 around him that seemed to take in the appearance of 

 the sky, and the probabilities of good or bad weather, 

 he ordered some of the sailors to bring the luggage of 

 the passenger upon deck, but not to put it into the 

 boat. He told the steward to give the soldiers and 



