Leaves from a middy's log

by Arthur Lee Knight

I really felt more dead than alive when I was ruthlessly dragged away from the spot where the struggle had taken place. I can assure the reader that it is no joke to be knocked about and roughly handled by four active, muscular rascals who have received orders to secure you at any cost.

Feeling bruised, giddy, and faint therefore, I had to submit to the indignity of being dragged away like a dead pig, convinced that an awful fate most surely awaited me and my unfortunate companions.

What would I not have given to see the brave Jim Beddoes and his trusty men rushing down like a whirlwind upon these audacious scoundrels, and making them fly in all directions. It was terribly tantalizing to think of the well-armed little detachment of stanch friends actually within hail, if we could only have managed to shout to them for assistance. I felt extremely sorry for Mr. Triggs, for I knew what his feelings must have been, and how he must have blamed himself for having led us into danger.

In spite of my weak and terribly anxious state, I could not help wondering how the foe had got wind of our approach, and been able to make such elaborate preparations for our capture.

For about ten minutes these ruthless fellows dragged us at their heels, and then came to a sudden halt, and I heard them exchanging remarks in a language which sounded to me like bad Spanish. I concluded, therefore, that none of the mutineers of the Flying-fish were amongst them, which struck me as a peculiar circumstance. Whilst revolving this in my mind, I felt that some one was carefully examining the bandage over my eyes, as if to ascertain whether I could see or not. The next moment I was hurried forward by the united exertions of several men, and felt myself being borne through what felt like a plantation of young trees or shrubs; and shortly afterwards realized the very disagreeable fact that I was being impelled down a flight of rude, slippery steps, on which I had considerable difficulty in keeping my footing. If it had not been for the iron grip of my jailers, I should have been precipitated from the top to the bottom. To my bewildered mind this rude staircase seemed interminable, and at every step my spirits sank lower and lower, and at length, when we appeared to reach the bottom, they were pretty well at zero.

A burst of coarse laughter here fell upon my ears, and some snatches of a Spanish song, mingled with which, like a humming accompaniment, was the sound of falling water.

I made a great effort to pull myself together and manfully face my fate whatever it might be; but my nerves, I must confess, had been terribly shaken, and my success was only very partial.

I was determined, however, that I would not flinch from death if our murder had been determined upon, as I felt that it would be casting a dishonour upon our nation not to meet even that terrible fate with calm courage—hard, very hard as it seemed, to be cut off at such an early age, when life was at its brightest epoch.

Having now arrived at the bottom of the steps, I was forced along a smooth sandy floor; my conductors laughing and joking among themselves in an uproarious manner, evidently in the highest spirits, and not afraid of being overheard.

The truth flashed across me in a moment. I was in a cave, deep down under the surface of the ground!