of the Morro
Castle--What 'Dios sabe' means.

Not many days after the events recorded in the last chapter, I am on a
sick couch.

What is the nature of my infirmity? Neither I nor my companion can tell.
Don Benigno, who comes to offer me his condolences, attributes the cause
of my complaint to confinement in the close, vaporous dungeon of the
Morro Castle, and his medical adviser, Don Francisco, who is summoned to
my bed-side, confirms Don Benigno's opinion, adding, that the sudden
transition from a damp atmosphere to the heat of a tropical sun may have
contributed to produce my disorder.

After examining me in the usual way, the physician inquires whether my
head throbs without aching; whether I am troubled with certain pains in
my joints and across my loins, and whether I feel altogether as if I had
been confined several weeks to my bed.

Marvelling much at the doctor's penetration, I reply that the symptoms
he described exactly correspond with those which I experience. In short;
Don Francisco is perfectly acquainted with the nature of my malady.
Strange to say, however, he does not venture to give it a name, and
stranger still, he leads my partner into our studio, where with closed
doors both converse like a couple of assassins conspiring against my
life. What passes between them is not revealed to me, but after the
doctor's departure, my companion assures me I have only caught a severe
cold, and that if I remain 'under cover,' I shall be perfectly well in
six days.

Why in six days? While pondering much over this, a strange heat
oppresses me; my head throbs more than ever; my pains increase, and to
add to my discomfiture, Nicasio, together with Don Benigno and our black
attendant, suddenly begin to dance furiously around my 'catre,'
terminating their wild gyrations by vanishing between the bars of the
grated window!

My friends were doubtless afraid of the commandant of the Morro and her
Majesty's British consul; for these gentlemen have entered the apartment
and established themselves on either side of my catre. The commandant,
claiming me for his prisoner, again attempts to carry me off to the
Morro Castle, but my consul envelopes me in an enormous Union Jack, and
declaring that I am a British subject, dares the Spanish officer to lay
a finger on me. The commandant now draws his sword--a weapon of such
monstrous length that it cannot be conveniently unsheathed without
detaching the scabbard from th