To my surprise the fellow fetched a pannikin of water and held it to my parched lips.
Oh how delicious, how cooling, how like nectar was that heavenly draught!
I was obliged to stop at length with a sigh of gratitude, and murmur “Gracias.”
A slight feeling of hope animated me after this incident, for it struck me that if our instant execution had been decided upon, the very scantiest consideration would have been shown for our wants—indeed that they would not have been considered in any one particular.
That we had fallen into the hands of consummate scoundrels went without saying, of course. A glance at the cruel, repellent visage of the chief, or at those of his swarthy, stick-at-nothing myrmidons, was sufficient to settle that question.
Who were these mysterious individuals?
The more I looked at them, the more I felt convinced that they were not Creole insurgents. At any rate, they were not the same men whose fort we had stormed and whose forces we had dispersed only a day or two previously. Neither did they resemble—except in their olive-coloured complexions—the dashing irregular cavalry which had met with the same disastrous fate. The men into whose clutches we had fallen were much more of the sailor type, and this impression was not given by the cut of their clothes alone. It was also betrayed by the cut of their jibs, as sailors express it—that is, by their physiognomies having an unmistakable nautical stamp upon them.
Had the Cuban insurgents any vessels under their orders—privateers or cruisers of any kind? I could not answer the question, though I was aware of the fact that the Spanish navy in the West Indies was deplorably weak.
Ned Burton was emboldened by my successful application for water to ask for some too. It seemed to me that his guards went rather grudgingly to fulfil his request. However, I don’t suppose Ned much minded that, so long as he got the water. The enormous quantity he drank without so much as winking actually provoked laughter among the swarthy gang who were watching him.
The rope lashings which bound my arms together were exceedingly painful, and seemed like the cruel fangs of animals gnawing into the flesh. I only knew about half a dozen Spanish words, but I utilized these as well as I could in an endeavour to persuade my guards to relax the tightness of my bonds. Having been successful in one instance, I hoped to be in another. Vain hope! The only result of my appeal was a violent kick from one of the sullen sentinels, which made me heartily wish that I had held my peace.