Being led back to the prison, Pharaoh and I found to our unspeakable joy and astonishment that we were to be placed in one cell and not separated as heretofore. This consideration on the part of our jailers was exceedingly pleasant to us, because it afforded us the opportunity of conversing one with the other. Therefore, in spite of our bruises and strains, caused by the rack and not yet forgotten, and of the sad sights which we had that day seen, we made an effort to pluck up our spirits, and to be cheerful and even hopeful.

We were further assisted in this laudable desire by a visit from the old gentleman whom we had rescued from highwaymen on the road to Oaxaca. About seven o’clock that evening he was admitted to our cell, and left alone with us. This latter fact at once assured us that our friend was a man of rank and position, otherwise he would not have been permitted to see and speak with us, save in the presence of witnesses.

“I trust all is well with you, friends,” said he, as he entered our presence, and set down a basket which the jailer had carried to the door. “I come to see you at a sad time, doubtless, but ’tis indeed with feelings of friendship.”

“We have so few friends in this country, Senor,” answered Pharaoh, “that we are glad to see any of them. Nay, indeed, so far as we know, your honor is the only friend we have. Therefore, Senor, you are something more than welcome.”

Now the jailer being gone, the old gentleman took our hands in his own, and was like to weep over us, at which we marveled, for we did not know that his gratitude was so hearty, seeing that we had done such a small thing for him.

“Alas, friends,” said he. “I grieve for you more than I can say, for I hate and abominate these murderous Inquisitors, whose hearts are filled with naught but torment and murder. Nevertheless I have saved you somewhat, for it was through my efforts and bribes that you came off with such light sentences.”

“I thought we had your honor to thank for that,” said Pharaoh. “Aye, ’tis well to have a friend at court when need arises.”

“I labored hard,” said the old gentleman, “to secure your freedom, but these bloody-minded Inquisitors are without bowels of mercy, and ye are fortunate to have escaped death or torture. But now I have brought you a little matter of wine and fruit, so fall-to and refresh yourselves, and after that we will talk of what is to come.”

So he unpacked his basket and set food and wine and delightful fruit before us, and we ate and drank and were vastly comforted thereby, for our commons during the past week or two had been of the very shortest. And when we had thus refreshed ourselves, we began to discuss our situation anew.

“That you have escaped with your lives and without the torture of the lash,” said our friend, “is due to my continued exertions on your behalf. But now, gentlemen, I am powerless to do more for you.”

Then we once more thanked him for doing so much, saying that we should always hold his kindness in remembrance, and should ever pray for his happiness and prosperity.

“And if,” continued I, “your honor can suggest any means by which we can escape from these galleys and regain our own country, we shall be further beholden to you. For, indeed, we have friends in England who must be anxious about us, if they be not already in despair of ever seeing us again.”

“I fear there is small chance of your escape,” said he, shaking his head. “Men that are chained to the oar cannot well escape. I pray God that you may survive your two years of that work—it is not all that do.”

“Sir,” said Pharaoh, “do you know where we shall be taken?”

“Nay,” answered he, “that I cannot say. Most men who lie under your sentence are shipped to Spain, and are there placed in the galleys. The same fate is probably in store for you.”

“God help us if they take us to Spain!” said Pharaoh. “We shall have to go through it all over again.”

However, it seemed almost certain that this would be our fate, and as nothing that we could say or do could alter it, there was naught for it but to submit ourselves with such cheerfulness as we could muster. But here the old Senor gave us some additional comfort, for it seemed that his special purpose in coming to us that night was to give us the names of friends of his in certain towns and ports of Spain, to whom we might apply in case of our being in their neighborhood.

“You are something more than likely to be finally dismissed at Cadiz or at Seville,” said he, “and it will be none the worse if you know where to turn for a friend;” and with that he gave us the names of certain Spanish gentlemen of rank, his friends, assuring us that they would help us to escape to England. And these names he made us learn by heart, and then, having no more time to spend with us, he bade us farewell, and we saw him no more. But in him we found one Spaniard at least who hated the horrible practices of the Inquisitors, and had a heart within him which was not insensible to the woes of others.

After we had remained in the prison five days longer, we were one morning brought forth and stripped of our San-benitos and given rough clothing suited to galley slaves. And that being done we were mounted on stout horses, in company with the other prisoners who had been sentenced to serve in the galleys, and being guarded by a great number of soldiers, well armed, we were sent off across country to the port of Acapulco. But ere we left Mexico every man of us had fastened to his left wrist and ankle a heavily-weighted chain, which would have made it impossible for us to attempt an escape even if we could have eluded the vigilance of our escort.

We were somewhat surprised to find that our first destination was Acapulco, for we had fancied that we should be sent to Vera Cruz, which is much nearer to the city of Mexico, and from which we expected to be sent across seas to Spain. We found, however, that at Acapulco there lay at that time a great treasure-galleon, the Santa Filomena, which the Spaniards were minded to take home by way of the Pacific islands and Africa, it being their belief that by this route there would be less chance of meeting Hawkins, or Drake, or Frobisher, or any of the great English sea-captains, of whom they were mortally afraid. In this galleon, then, we were to be shipped, with the prospect of a long and tedious voyage, which, according to Pharaoh’s calculations, might cover the best part of a year even with fair winds.

Our overland journey to Acapulco was not wholly unpleasant, for our guards being soldiers, and free from the encouragement of those murderous fanatics the Inquisitors and Familiars, treated us with as much consideration as was possible, and forbore to taunt us with our misfortunes. Moreover, we were frequently lodged for the night in the neighborhood of some convent or monastery, and then we did exceeding well, the friars feeding us with their best, and compassionating us for our many sorrows. And at that time it was plain to us that the Inquisition was heartily hated by the friars—black, white, and gray,—and met with no favor from any but such as had long since forgotten all that they had ever known of mercy and compassion.

Having reached Acapulco, after many days’ journeying over mountains and plains, we were immediately conveyed on board the Santa Filomena, which was a great galleon of full rig, having a high poop and a double bank of oars, and there our chains were knocked off by the armorer. This relief, however, did not long benefit us, for we were presently conducted below to a great deck filled with long wooden benches, parallel with the mighty oars which came through the ports. To one of these benches Pharaoh and I were immediately chained and padlocked, our companions suffering a like treatment. In another part of the deck the benches were filled by negroes, stark naked, whose backs and shoulders were covered by scars, and who yelled and grinned at us like fiends or madmen.

“God help us!” said Pharaoh; “they will not release us from these benches till we make Seville or Cadiz.”

And at that awful prospect I half-regretted that we had not died in Mexico. For simply to think of being chained to the oar all those weary months amidst that foul and unclean mass of humanity, sleeping where we labored, and eating amidst dirt and filth, was more than I could stomach, and at that moment black despair seemed to settle upon my heart. But Pharaoh once more came to my aid and strove to cheer me.

“Heart up, master!” said he. “All is not yet over. We are going through sore trials, but what then? Are we not Englishmen? At any rate let us show a stern front to these villains. Cowards we will never be.”