The Sufferings and Escape of Capt. Chas. H. Brown From an Awful Imprisonment by Chilian Convicts

by captain of the bark Florida Charles H. Brown

The mate eagerly asked me what I thought was going to happen next, but I answered him shortly, and turned from him, for I felt the necessity of calming my mind, after such excitement.

That night I passed in close communion with myself, strengthening my soul to meet whatever might be before me, and rousing my energies to seize every opportunity to escape from the hands of such blood-thirsty fiends. The morning found me calmer, and more full of energy and determination, than any moment since my captivity. If Cambiaso ordered me to be brought out on the platform in order to intimidate me, he did not know his man. The sight, instead of depressing me, roused in me a spirit of revenge, and determined me to retaliate the wrongs which I had seen inflicted on my friend.

Governor Gamero was a post captain in the Chilian army; his name, Benjamin Numoz Gamero. I afterwards heard him spoken of as a man of fine character, and of excellent judgment. Under his directions, the colony had grown in prosperity and in discipline. He had built some very comfortable barracks for the soldiers, and some good houses for the officers. The convicts had been employed in clearing and cultivating the ground, and intercourse and trade with the Indians of the country had been encouraged.

The native tribes around the colony had always shown themselves friendly to the settlement; and, as I learnt, had been in the habit of coming down to the barracks about once a month, bringing with them game, and other articles, which they were anxious to exchange for flour, bread, and so forth. They generally formed themselves on a line, on the north side of the barracks, and the governor would range his troops upon the platform, above the fence, and put in their view the two cannon, the noise of which they had often heard, and of which they had a superstitious dread. The chiefs would then come forward and meet the governor outside the fence, and arrange their terms of barter.

Of the clergyman, Acuna, I know but little. The reverence of the women of the colony for him, certainly speaks in his favor.

The morning of the 4th of December, while the mate and myself were eating our scanty allowance of hard bread, washed down by the water which we had taken from the dirty buckets in the guard room, a shout rose in the yard, “A steamer! a war steamer, with the English flag!” My heart leaped to my mouth, as I sprung to my feet, and the mate seemed to gather courage from the very sense of the vicinity of his countrymen, and from his confidence in the protection of his flag. One moment’s glance showed me that even amidst their excitement, some of the guards were watching us from the other room; and managing to caution the mate by a glance, I endeavored to assume as natural an air as possible, listening and asking questions as if from mere curiosity. I gathered from the guard and from the idlers round the camp who flocked in, that Cambiaso had expressed his determination to attempt to capture the steamer; that the Chilian flag had been run up at the flag-staff, and a gun fired to attract the attention of the steamer, and induce them to come into the harbor and drop anchor. At last, she was seen to make for the harbor, and to be evidently making preparations to anchor. Her name, they told me, was the Virago.

During the last hour, the mate and myself had been forming a thousand plans by which we hoped to attract the attention of the officers or men of the steamer, when they landed, and warn them of their own danger, and of our situation; but our plans were quickly frustrated; for no sooner had the steamer come to anchor, than the mate and myself were hurriedly taken from our room, and led across the yard towards a smaller building. In vain I questioned those who were leading me, as to where I was going; my only answer was a hasty oath, and an order to be quiet. The door of the little calaboose was opened, and we were pushed into a room about eight feet square, and the bolts drawn behind us. Before me, sitting or lying on the floor, were six haggard looking men, heavily ironed. I spoke to them in Spanish, but was answered by one of them in good English, who said, “You are the captain of the American barque?” I started with surprise, for I immediately thought him an American; and I saw that he was a gentleman, or something beyond a common sailor. And what American could be confined there, not belonging to the Florida? Could there have been another vessel captured by these pirates, of which I had heard nothing? “Who are you?” I eagerly asked; “are you an American? How came you in this wretched place?”

He answered that his name was Dunn, and that he was a Brazilian, who had been employed by governor Gamero as his secretary. That he had been seized by Cambiaso’s orders, at the time of his insurrection, and confined in that filthy den ever since.

While he was speaking, one of our guard knocked on the door, and ordered silence, saying that he would shoot down the first one of us who troubled him again.