oard
the Cultivateur. I had scarcely been there ten minutes when I was
requested to attend the mate of an American vessel, who had just
been stabbed on board his ship by some custom-house guards. When I
had finished dressing the wound, several officers, belonging to the
different French vessels lying in the bay, acquainted me that one
of their brethren, Captain Drouant, of Marseilles, was still ashore,
and that there might yet be time to save him. There was not a moment
to lose; night was approaching, and it was necessary to profit by the
last half-hour of daylight. I set off in a cutter, and, on nearing
the land, I directed my men to keep the boat afloat, in order to
prevent a surprise on the part of the Indians, but yet to hug the
shore sufficiently close to land promptly, in case the captain or
myself signaled them. I then quickly set about searching for Drouant.

On reaching a small square, called Puerta Baga, I observed a group
of three or four hundred Indians. I had a presentiment that it was
in that direction I ought to prosecute my search. I approached, and
beheld the unfortunate Drouant, pale as a corpse. A furious Indian was
on the point of plunging his kreese into his breast. I threw myself
between the captain and the poignard, violently pushing on either
side the murderer and his victim, so as to separate them. "Run!" I
cried in French; "a boat awaits you." So great was the stupefaction
of the Indians that the captain escaped unpursued.

It was now time for me to get out of the dangerous situation in which
I was involved. Four hundred Indians surrounded me; the only way of
dealing with them was by audacity. I said in Tagaloc to the Indian who
had attempted to stab the captain: "You are a scoundrel." The Indian
sprang towards me; he raised his arm: I struck him on the head with a
cane which I held in my hand; he waited in astonishment for a moment,
and then returned towards his companions to excite them. Daggers
were drawn on every side; the crowd formed a circle around me, which
gradually concentrated. Mysterious influence of the white man over his
coloured brother! Of all these four hundred Indians, not one dared
attack me the first; they all wished to strike together. Suddenly a
native soldier, armed with a musket, broke through the crowd; he struck
down my adversary, took away his dagger, and holding his musket by the
bayonet end, he swung it round and round his head, thus enlarging the
circle at first,