The rest of the day passed by like a long nightmare. The friar had us removed to a small but strongly built hut, containing two rooms, separated by a thin partition of hides nailed to a row of upright studs. These were of squared timber, as was the floor also, and the outer frame and wall-plate. The roof and sides were overlaid with thatch; and there was no window, only a square opening in the roof which admitted the light, and also let out the smoke when a fire was built upon the floor.

As dark came on, two young Indian girls entered the hut, where we sat, bound, with our backs against the wall.

They seemed kindly disposed and gentle-mannered, for all their outlandish garb, which consisted of a petticoat of long gray moss, and strings of little shells and beads of divers colours festooned about the neck.

They loosed Barbara and me, for which we were mightily grateful, as our arms had grown numb and sore. We made signs that they should cut the bonds of the men also, which they declined to do. Yet they touched us with gentle hands, and stroked our shoulders in token of their good will.

After this they brought wet clay and spread it upon the floor, and on this laid a fire and kindled it; going forth again, they returned with food and set it before us, making signs that we who were free should feed the rest.

While I was serving my dear love—who made pitiable pretence of enjoying my ministrations—the friar entered the hut, accompanied by two others who were doubtless of mixed Spanish and Indian blood.

They bore with them heavy manacles and chains, which they fastened upon our men, cutting the leathern thongs which had held them until now.

Mr. Rivers demanded to know by whose orders this was done.

"For it would seem our true jailers are not the Indians. These fetters are of Spanish forging. Is it to your nation, padre, we are indebted for this urgent hospitality?"

To this the friar made answer at great length, and what he said appeared to enrage our men, who broke forth in a round volley of oaths as soon as our jailers had left the hut. I turned to Mr. Rivers for explanation.

"'Tis as I supposed," he said, "and the friar is at the bottom of it all. He maintains now that in landing here and attempting to trade with the Indians we have committed an offence against the sovereignty of Santo Domingo, which claims all this coast as Spanish territory. These Indians, he declares, are under the protection of his government, and therefore are not free to dispose of any goods to us English, or to receive any favours at our hands; as such dealings would be to the prejudice of the Spanish rights and influence over this country. Therefore he has claimed us from the Indians and proposes himself to hold us prisoners, awaiting the decision of the Governor at San Augustin."

As I look back now, it seems to me that in those first hours of our captivity I grew older by many years. That gladsome morning, with its wilful moods and joyous daring, fell away back into the past, and seemed as unreal as the day-dreams of my childhood.

We slept that night, Dame Barbara and I, upon a soft and springy couch of moss piled in the little inner room. That is to say, we lay there silently; but I think I scarce closed my eyes.

The wind, drifting through the gaping thatch, caught the loose corner of a shrivelled strip of hide dangling on the rude partition wall, and kept it swinging back and forth, with a faint tap-tap, tap-tap, the whole night long. As it swung outward I could catch fleeting glimpses of the little group huddled about the dying fire; and for hours I lay and listened to the low murmur of their voices and the heavy clank and rattle of their chains.

Old Captain Baulk was in a garrulous mood, and he poured into the sailors' ears a horrid tale of how the Spaniards had massacred the first French settlers on this coast.

"'Twas just about one hundred years ago," he droned in a gruesome whisper. "Ribault's settlement was on the River May, somewhere in these latitudes. There were about nine hundred of them in all, 'tis said, counting the women and children; and not one of them escaped. The bodies of dead and wounded were alike hung upon a tree for the crows——"

"In God's name, hold your croaking tongue!" Mr. Rivers broke in angrily. "'Tis bad enough for the women as things are, and if they overhear these old wives' tales, think you it will make them rest easier?"

"Not old wives' tales, Mr. Rivers, but the fact, sir,—the bloody fact."

"Silence!" whispered my betrothed, in a voice that made me tremble,—for he hath a hot temper when it is roused. "Unless thou canst hold that ill-omened tongue of thine, there presently will be another bloody fact between thy teeth!"

A sudden silence fell. 'Twas broken finally by my dear love, whose generous nature soon repented of a harshly spoken word.

"I was over-hasty, my good Baulk; but I would not for the world have Mistress Tudor hear aught of those horrors. And times have changed greatly in an hundred years. But this inaction, this inaction! 'Tis terrible upon a man!"

A suppressed groan accompanied the exclamation, and my heart ached for him. It must indeed be hard for men—who are used to carving their own fates and wresting from fortune their desires—suddenly to be forced to play the woman's part of patient waiting.

The next day brought no relief.

From the windowless hut we could see naught of what passed without; but about an hour before noon we heard a drum beat in the village. The sound grew ever fainter, as though receding; then came the distant report of musketry, and we grew anxious for our people on the sloop. Hours passed by, and again came the sound of heavy firing, which gradually died away as before.

Late in the afternoon we were joined by another prisoner, whom—from his dress of skins—we mistook at first sight for a young Indian; but 'twas no other than the lad Poole, who was in Mr. Rivers's service and most loyally attached to his master.

From him we learned that the Indians and some Spaniards had been parleying with our men all day. He had swum ashore with a letter to the friar, and had been received with kindness by the savages, who clad him after their own fashion. The friar, however, vouchsafed him no reply; and after a time gave a signal to his men to fire on the sloop. The arrows of the Indians and the muskets of the Spaniards had finally compelled the Three Brothers to weigh anchor and put out to sea.