Papillon by Henri Charrière

Three days later, at eleven in the morning on October 30, twelve white-uniformed guards from the bagne arrived to take possession of us. Before we left, there was a short official ceremony: each of us had to be identified. They had brought our descriptions, reports, photographs, fingerprints-the whole lot. Once they had verified our identities, the French consul stepped up to sign a document from the judge of the district-the official charged with giving us back to France. All of us were astonished at the friendly way we were treated by the guards. No animosity, no harsh words. The three in our group who had been there longest knew several of the bagne guards and joked with them like old buddies. The head of our escort, Commander Boursal, was worried about my condition. He looked at my feet and said he'd have them examined on the ship: there was a good orderly aboard.

We were put in the bottom of the old tub's hold, but the worst of it was the suffocating heat and the "bars of justice" to which our chains were attached. Only one interesting thing happened on the trip: the boat had to pick up coal in Trinidad. In port, a British naval officer demanded that our irons be removed. Apparently it was against British law to chain a man on board ship. I took advantage of the incident to slap a British officer in the face. I was trying to get myself arrested so they'd take me ashore. But the officer said, "I'm not going to have you punished for what you just did. Where you're going you'll get punishment enough."