“I said that we were wrecked,” replied Mr Collinson. “I did not say that our own ship was wrecked.”
“In what vessel, then, were you cast away?” asked the officer.
“In a prize we had taken,” answered Mr Collinson. “We were ordered to bring her round to Jamaica; but, being caught in a hurricane, we were driven on a reef in the neighbourhood of the Tortugas.”
“I thought so!” exclaimed the officer, with an oath. “She was our consort. You would have had a harder matter to take us, let me tell you. However, it’s a satisfaction to find that you lost her. We heard that she was captured. However, it’s a good reason why we should treat you as prisoners;—as such you must consider yourselves.”
“We must submit, if so you determine it,” said Mr Collinson; “but our case is a hard one.”
“Not harder than that of the poor fellows who lost their vessel, and are now in one of your prisons in Jamaica.”
With this remark, the mulatto officer returned to his companions, to whom he seemed to be imparting the information he had obtained. At length another officer came up to Mr Collinson, and addressed him in French.
“I am the surgeon of the ship,” he said. “I see that you are ill, and almost worn out; and, although you are an Englishman and an enemy, you must let me prescribe for you. Come down, therefore, into my cabin, where you can obtain some rest, which I see you greatly require.”
“I accept your offer gratefully,” answered Mr Collinson; “and I must beg also that you will attend to the wants of my companions.”
“It is right in you, monsieur, to think of your men,” said the surgeon; “and I will gladly do as you wish. I am afraid that both you and they will be subjected to some unpleasant treatment, for we have some terribly rough people on board, both among the officers and forward.” He said this in a low voice. “I will, however, do my best for you.”