At about the hour of sunset, Miguel brought us our supper of porridge; but he made no reference to the late episode, and indeed did not vouchsafe to utter a word, good, bad, or indifferent. We did not at all object to his taciturnity, but ate our suppers with as good an appetite as we could muster up—certainly with many wry faces on my part. Even Ned allowed that the hominy and rancid butter wasn’t a patch on the salt fish and rice.
We were kept well supplied with water, a pannikin being always near us.
The sun went down, and our prison-deck became wrapped in gloom. It seemed as if night was to be ushered in by the baying of bloodhounds, for I distinctly heard a mournful chorus from those four-footed man-hunters, which was kept up for some little time. Ned was very superstitious about this, and declared that the Irish “banshee” was nothing to it.
Soon after darkness fell a couple of armed sentries arrived to mount guard over us. For the greater part of the time they marched up and down with rifles in their hands; but occasionally they sat down upon the deck within easy reach of us, smoked bad cigarettes, and played at dominoes. They were relieved at intervals, I believe; but I slept very soundly, strange to say, and was hardly cognizant of what went forward during the night hours.
I was awoke in the early hours of the morning by a chorus of shouts and angry yells, and a grinding and buffeting noise and vibration which seemed to shake our little vessel violently from her cutwater to her stern-post.
“We’ve struck on a rock, I’m afraid!” cried the gunner, starting up in great alarm. “I hope, if the vessel begins to sink, they’ll knock off our manacles in time to give us a chance for our lives.”
“Maybe ’tis a collision,” said Ned, “and that would be as bad perhaps. I take it these furriners are only fair-weather sailors at the best of times.”
Our guards had rushed on deck at the first sound of alarm.
At this moment the crash of a volley of musketry rang out above the confused din on deck. Then we heard shrieks and yells of agony mingled with the shouts of commanding voices and the baying of the bloodhounds.
We exchanged glances of astonishment and horror.