ocked 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."

CHAPTER XV.

NUNEZ IN A NEW GUISE.

The second day after our arrival at Acapulco, we knew by the hurry and
scurry on board our vessel that preparations were being made for
sailing. Our deck was now full, and every oar was fully manned with its
complement of slaves or captives. Of these the majority were blacks,
whose misfortunes had transformed them into nothing better than wild
animals; but there were still a large number of whites, and amongst them
thirty to forty of our own countrymen. Every man was chained to his
bench, and it was evident that there was no intention of releasing us
until our voyage came to an end. Thus amongst our miserable company were
many who hung their heads in deep dejection, and envied the three men
who had met death by the flames in the great square of Mexico.

Towards the evening of that day, as I was sitting lost in sad thoughts,
I looked up and saw standing at my side two figures, which I had given
anything rather than set eyes upon. One was that of Captain Manuel
Nunez, the other the black-robed form of Frey Bartolomeo. They stood
regarding me steadfastly: the monk calm and quiet, the sailor with his
usual cold smile faintly curling about the eye