"Nothing very grand," he said, with a laugh, when he returned. "Follow me!"

"Why," said Mr Collinson, "the authorities cannot think of putting us into a place like that. It is a stable!"

"Very likely; but there's only one old horse in it, and there are three stalls: you can have one, monsieur, all to yourself, and your men can have he other. What more can you desire?"

All expostulations were vain.

"Well, we must make the best of it, my lads," said Mr Collinson, walking into the place.

"There's just one thing you must remember," shouted the sergeant: "don't be playing tricks, and turning out the horse. The owner made that a bargain; and he requires shelter as much as you do."

"Well, well!" answered the English lieutenant; "complaining is beneath us."

"We shall not do badly, sir," observed Jack, as he surveyed the place; "we don't, however, like it for you, sir; but we will get some straw and some planks, and make it as comfortable-like as we can and rig up a table. It's a shame, that it is, to turn a British officer into such a place; and the next time we get alongside a French man-of-war, in the _Lilly_, won't we give it her, that's all!"

"I hope, my lads, we may have the opportunity before long," said the lieutenant. "I am glad you take things so well. Perhaps they will mend. It's a compliment, I suspect, they pay us, to bring us here; for they have heard of the way English sailors have made their escape from prison, so they consider it is necessary to carry us all this distance from the coast."

It was nearly dark when they arrived, so that they had not much time to get their habitation in order. The night pa.s.sed quietly enough, except that they were startled, every now and then, by the asthmatic cough of the horse, the croaking of the bull-frogs in a neighbouring pond, and the sound of the sentry's musket, as he grounded it every now and then, when he halted, after pacing up and down in front of the hut. Bill was awoke by hearing a voice shouting--

"Hillo, shipmates, ahoy! Where are they, blacky? What! In there?

Then they are as bad off as we are."

Bill jumped up, and went to the door. There he saw an English sailor, who was, however, a stranger to him.

"Hillo! Boy," said the sailor, "what cheer? What has brought you here?"

Bill told him what had occurred.

"Well, we heard of some fresh arrivals, so I came along to see who you were. We have had nearly two score of Englishmen here, officers and men; some privateersmen, some merchant seamen, the men-of-war's men having been taken mostly in prizes, except a dozen of us who belong to the _Buzzard_ schooner, and we should not have been taken had not the sloop of war we were engaging knocked away our fore-topmast, and pretty well killed or wounded two-thirds of our ship's company. Some of them, howsumdever, have been exchanged, and some have died; so that there are only a few of us remaining to make you welcome."

In a short time, the rest of the Englishmen came to greet the newcomers.

One was a lieutenant, whose thin, careworn countenance showed suffering and anxiety; and another was a grey-haired old mate, who evidently cared very little what might become of him. The account they gave of their treatment was far from satisfactory.

"We receive scarcely sufficient food to keep life in us," observed the lieutenant.

All had similar complaints to make. Several days pa.s.sed by, and Mr Collinson found that his countrymen had ample reason for the complaints they made.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Mr Collinson had expected to hear from Monsieur Mouret, but day after day pa.s.sed by and no news reached him. The other lieutenant, Mr Mason, at length proposed that they should endeavour to make their escape to the coast.

"I fear that the undertaking is too hazardous to be attempted," answered Mr Collinson. "Even should we reach the coast, we may find no vessel to take us on board."

Still, as he thought over the matter, he felt greatly inclined, at all risks, to make the attempt. He had husbanded the small sum of money he possessed, in case of dire necessity, either to help them to escape or to obtain food. Meantime, the rest of the party, who had scarcely recovered from their previous hardships, were growing thinner and thinner.

Sunshine Bill was the only one who kept up his spirits. In a neighbouring cottage, to which the stable belonged, lived an old negress, the wife of the proprietor. More than once she had caught sight of Bill, who used to go outside their habitation in the evening, and amuse the rest of the party, by showing that he had not forgotten Jack Windy's instructions in dancing the hornpipe. Jack declared that he had neither strength nor inclination to shake a leg himself, but he would not mind singing a tune for Bill to dance; and dance Bill did with great glee. He did his best to try and persuade Tommy to join him, but Tommy was too weak and ill to do anything of the sort. At length, one evening, when Bill had just finished his performance, the old black woman was seen approaching with a steaming bowl in her arms.

"Dare, brave _garcon_," she said, patting Bill on the head, and pointing to the bowl, and making signs for him to eat.

She then signified that the rest might have what he chose to leave.

Bill was for giving it to them at once, but she s.n.a.t.c.hed the bowl back again, and squatted herself down upon the ground to see that he took enough. Whenever he stopped, she insisted upon his going on again, till at last he put his hands before him, and made signs that he could eat no more. She then allowed him to give the remainder to his hungry companions, who very soon finished it.

"Thank you, mammy," said Bill; "but, I say, could you not just bring a plate for our officer? He is as hungry as we are. He is inside there, very ill;" and Bill made signs which could scarcely be mistaken.

The old woman caught the word "officer," and she nodded her head. She soon returned with another dish of meat and vegetables, which Bill took in to Mr Collinson.

The next day after Bill had danced his hornpipe, old Mammy Otello, as they called her, came with her usual bowl of food, but on this occasion she brought a basket with various fruits besides. This she did for two or three days. One day, however, she came at an earlier hour, and made signs to Bill that he must come over to her house. The rest of the party offered to accompany him, but she very significantly showed that she did not want their society. Bill went on, wondering what she could require, though from her good-natured looks, he felt sure she intended him no harm.

As they were going towards the house, he saw a number of black people in gay dresses coming towards it from various quarters; and when he got there, he found a large room almost full of negroes in ruffles and shirt frills, and negresses in the gayest of gay gowns, somewhat scanty over the shoulder, and fitting rather close to the figure. Bill found that there was to be a black ball. At one end of the room sat, perched up on the top of a cask, a fiddler, who began sc.r.a.ping away as he entered.

The guests were beginning to stand up for dancing, but Mammy Otello, taking Bill by the hand, led him up to the musician, and made him understand that he was to describe the tune he wanted to have played.

Bill sung out his tune as well as he could, and the fiddler made violent attempts to imitate it. At length he succeeded to his own satisfaction, if not to Bill's.

Mammy then led him back into the middle of the room, and made him understand that he was to commence dancing.

"Well, you have been a kind old soul to us," he observed; "the only one who has shown us any attention in this place; and I will do my best to please you."

The musician began to play, and Bill began to dance, and very soon the former seemed to understand exactly the sort of music required, and off he went. The guests shouted and shrieked, and clapped their hands; and the fiddler went on playing, and Bill went on dancing, and it seemed a great question which would first grow tired.

"I'll do it, that I will," thought Bill to himself; "if it's only to see these blackamoors grinning, and rolling their eyes, and shrieking, and clapping their hands in the funny way they do."

At length, so eager did the spectators become, that they pressed closer and closer upon the dancer, and Mammy Otello had to rush in and shove them back with her stout arms to prevent him from being overwhelmed.

"Tired yet, old fellow?" shouted Bill, as he went on shuffling away and kicking his heels; "I am not, let me tell you!"

The fiddler, although he might not have understood the words, comprehended the gesture, and continued working away till it seemed as if either his head or his arms and fiddle would part company, flying off in different directions. Still Bill danced, and the black fiddler played, roars of applause proceeding from the thick lips of the dark-skinned audience.

At length, Mammy Otello, fancying that Bill himself would come to pieces, or that he would fall down exhausted, rushed in, and seizing him in her arms, carried him to a seat, amid the laughter and shouting and grinning and stamping of all present; the fiddler, dropping down his right hand, and letting his instrument slip from his chin, gave vent to a loud gasp, as if he could not either have continued his exertions many seconds longer.

Bill wanted to go back for his friends, to bring them up to see the fun, but his hostess would not hear of it; and, whenever he got up to beat a retreat, she ran and brought him back again. Meantime, the room was occupied by the negroes, who danced away in a fashion Bill had never seen before.

They bowed and sc.r.a.ped, and set to each other, however, with all the dignity of high-bred persons. At length Bill watched his opportunity and while Mammy Otello had gone to another part of the room, he bolted out of the house, and set off as fast as his legs could carry him to his companions in captivity.

"I told you, Bill, that hornpipe of yours would gain friends wherever you go," said Jack. "I wish the old lady would give me a chance, however. Perhaps she will now be civil to us on your account."

The next day, when Mammy Otello came, she seemed rather inclined to scold Bill for running away. He got Mr Collinson to explain that he would not have done so had the rest of the party been invited, as he did no think it fair to enjoy all the fun by himself.

"Bon garcon; bon garcon!" said Mammy Otello. "The next time, for his sake, we will invite you all."

Mr Collinson was surprised, after the many promises of a.s.sistance made by Monsieur Mouret, the planter, that he should neither have seen nor heard anything of him. At length one day, a black, dressed in livery, rode into the village, inquiring for the English lieutenant who had last come. On seeing Mr Collinson, he presented a note in a lady's hand.

It contained but a few words. It was from Mademoiselle Mouret.

"The day after you came here," she said, "my father was taken ill, just as he was about to set off to Point a Petre, to make interest for you.

I watched over him for some days, and I confess that my grief allowed the promises he had made to escape my memory. Alas! He has been taken from me, while I myself have barely escaped with life; and only now am I sufficiently recovered to write. Fearing that you will receive very uncourteous treatment from my countrymen, and that you may be even suffering from want of food, I have sent you some provisions by our faithful servant Pierre, as also a purse, which, I trust, you will accept from one who, though in affliction, is grateful for the kindness she has received from your friends."

Mr Collinson felt that he had no right to refuse the gift which the young lady had so liberally sent. When Jack Windy heard of it, he exclaimed--