evening they lay in the harbour, and had hidden himself under the coals;
and that when they had battened down the hatch he had been nearly
suffocated with coal-gas, and had lain and groaned. Occasionally he had
found an opportunity at night in the dark to climb up into the
jolly-boat astern, and had lain there and breathed fresh air until
nearly sunrise. Once or twice he had been into the caboose and got
something to eat; and sometimes he had stopped by the compass, as it
seemed to him their journey was never coming to an end, and he wanted to
assure himself that the vessel was really steering a northerly course to
Rio, as he had heard from some one in the harbour she intended to do.

He was a young, slightly-built man, with small quick eyes, about Salve's
height, and apparently a Spaniard or Portuguese, but could make himself
understood in English.

The captain had some doubts as to the truth of his story, as his rank
appeared to be superior to that of a common soldier; and from his
anxiety not to betray his presence in the ship, even after they had got
out into the open sea, he concluded that he was a political refugee, who
at that time would not be very safe even at Rio. He ordered food to be
given him, and promised that he should make his way ashore as best he
could, but that he was not to expect help from him, as the captain had
no intention of involving himself with the authorities on his account.

Salve, who, like the generality of sailors, could talk a good deal of
English, gradually attached himself to the Spaniard, and found him an
entertaining and clever fellow.

Before a light afternoon breeze they glided at last from the sea into
the narrow channel that runs up to Rio de Janeiro--one of the loveliest
in the world, with majestic granite mountains on either side, one of
which was already blazing in the ruddy light of the evening sun, while
the other in shade stood out a deep violet against the clear blue of the
sky above. On the one side, at the foot of the Sugarloaf Mountain, they
had the fortress of Praja; on the other, the Castle of Santa Cruz; and
facing them on the highest point in the harbour, the slender
signal-tower that announces every ship as it appears at the entrance of
the channel.

So beautiful was the scene that under its softening influence Salve felt
almost inclined to regret his determination to desert. The feeling,
however, lasted no longer than the beauty which produced it. The soft