e charged them to hurt no one, unless they were attacked. He
almost always remained with them; and several times they had to defend
themselves against the rebels, who, swimming round to that point of
the raft, placed M. Correard and his little troop between two dangers,
and made their position very difficult to defend. At every instant he
was opposed to men armed with knives, sabres and bayonets. Many had
carabines which they wielded as clubs. Every effort was made to stop
them, by holding them off at the point of their swords; but, in spite
of the repugnance they experienced in fighting with their wretched
countrymen, they were compelled to use their arms without mercy. Many
of the mutineers attacked with fury, and they were obliged to repel
them in the same manner. Some of the laborers received severe wounds
in this action. Their commander could show a great number received in
the different engagements. At last their united efforts prevailed in
dispersing this mass who had attacked them with such fury.

During this combat, M. Correard was told by one of his workmen who
remained faithful, that one of their comrades, named Dominique, had
gone over to the rebels, and that they had seized and thrown him into
the sea. Immediately forgetting the fault and treason of this man, he
threw himself in at the place whence the voice of the wretch was heard
calling for assistance, seized him by the hair, and had the good
fortune to restore him on board. Dominique had got several sabre
wounds in a charge, one of which had laid open his head. In spite of
the darkness we found out the wound, which seemed very large.

One of the workmen gave his handkerchief to bind and stop the blood.
Our care recovered the wretch; but, when he had collected strength,
the ungrateful Dominique, forgetting at once his duty and the signal
service which we had rendered him, went and rejoined the rebels. So
much baseness and insanity did not go unrevenged; and soon after he
found, in a fresh assault, that death from which he was not worthy to
be saved, but which he might in all probability have avoided, if, true
to honor and gratitude, he had remained among us.

Just at the moment we finished dressing the wounds of Dominique,
another voice was heard. It was that of the unfortunate female who was
with us on the raft, and whom the infuriated beings had thrown into
the sea, as well as her husband, who had defended her with courage.
M. Correard in despair at