Captain Canot by Brantz Mayer

I slept soundly that night; but the sun was not clear of the forest when I hobbled on deck in my shackles, and was searching the seaward horizon for my beloved Castilian. Presently the breeze began to freshen, and the tall, raking masts of a schooner were seen gliding above the tops of the mangroves that masked the Rio Pongo's mouth. Very soon the light wind and tide drifted her clear of the bends, and an anchor was let go within musket shot of my prison, while springs were run out to the bushes to give range to her broadside. I saw at once, from her manoeuvres, that Ormond had communicated with the craft during the night.

Brulot felt that his day was over. The Spaniard's decks were crowded with an alert, armed crew; four charming little bull-dogs showed their muzzles from port holes; while a large brass swivel, amidships, gave token of its readiness to fight or salute. For a minute or two the foiled Frenchman surveyed the scene through his glass; then, throwing it over his shoulder, ordered the mate to strike off my "darbies. " As the officer obeyed, a voice was heard from the Spaniard, commanding a boat to be sent aboard, under penalty of a shot if not instantly obeyed. The boat was lowered; but who would man her? The chief officer refused; the second declined; the French sailors objected; the Creoles and mulattoes from St. Thomas went below; so that no one was left to fulfil the slaver's order but Brulot or myself.