It seems to me another instance of stupidity in captain Stewart, that he should have swallowed unsuspiciously this story of Cambiaso’s. Would it not have been much more probable that Cambiaso would have asked their assistance in recapturing his prisoners, and requested the Virago to retain them until he could send for them? I could not but feel that all these things, or indeed, half of them, would have been enough to have opened the eyes of even a moderately “cute” Yankee. But perhaps some allowance for my impatience at the blindness of the English officers is to be made, when we consider how much this chance of escape was to me, and how bitterly I lamented its loss.
My fellow prisoner and myself were sad enough during the rest of that evening, as we heard that the Virago had left Port Famine, and was now out of sight.
CHAPTER V.
We are better treated—Captain Avalos again—His privations—The sergeant shot—Mr. Buela—Cambiaso’s discipline—His code of laws—Personal appearance—His vanity—Threats of poison—Improved fare—The coffee—The mate secures the E. Cornish—Cambiaso and Garcia visit me—I go on board the Florida—My steward.
After the departure of the steamer, the severity of our imprisonment was very much relaxed. The prisoners were allowed to walk about every day, accompanied by a guard, and were even allowed some communication with each other. I saw captain Avalos again, and shook hands earnestly with him. He told me that he had thought that I had been shot with captain Talbot and Mr. Shaw. Captain Avalos had been confined in the same building with captain Salas, and with the first lieutenant of the troops under Gamero, of whom Cambiaso had been second lieutenant. He told me that captain Salas had made several attempts to hold communication with some of the soldiers under his command, but that they had been strictly watched by Cambiaso, who feared treachery. One morning, before the execution of Mr. Shaw and the governor, a sergeant who had formerly been a convict, but had been promoted for good conduct was detected receiving a bottle of brandy from captain Salas, and was immediately seized, tried by a summary court martial, and put to death as a traitor, under the sanguinary code established by Cambiaso. After this, the officers in confinement had been more strictly watched, and forbidden to hold any communication with the soldiers on duty.
Mr. Dunn, the secretary, I often met in my walks, and we generally managed to exchange a greeting, and to convey some information to each other in English, as we passed. Mr. Buela I also saw again at this time. He had suffered much privation, being confined in the same room of six feet square in which he was first put with my crew, where they were so crowded that they were obliged to stand up most of the time.
It was good policy in me to cultivate all friendly relations with my captors; and for this reason, I began, at this time, to mingle in their sports, at least as a spectator. In the evenings, the men and women would often collect under a large tent, and dance the Fandango, the so well known Spanish dance. They danced it with handkerchiefs, waving them as each couple separated and retired to the right and left. One evening Cambiaso came up to me as I was standing by the tent ropes, and asked me to join the dance. I had no heart to do this, but pleaded in excuse my American ignorance of the figures. These evenings generally ended with a feast—a pig or calf barbecued.
One night’s rude and cruel amusement I cannot even now think of without a shudder. All the dogs of the encampment were driven into a circle, and then chased with clubs. The cries of the poor frightened animals, the howlings of those who were knocked down, rang in my ears all night; and next morning their carcasses could be seen lying around on every side.