"I heard no more of this revelation, and for some minutes--like the warrior pierced to the heart by a poisoned arrow--was completely deprived of all consciousness. "When I came back to myself tears flooded my face, and brought me some relief: but suddenly I resumed my courage, and felt that no time was to be lost. I ran to the shore where I had left my pirogue, which I unfastened, and, as quickly as oars could pull me, I pursued the Malays, not in the hope of wresting Theresa from them, but resolved upon partaking of her captivity and misfortune. We better endure the sufferings we have to undergo when we are two together than when we are alone. He who had brought me the fatal tidings saw me start, and thought I had lost my senses; the fact is, my countenance bore all the traces of mental alienation. Methought I was inspired by the grand master-spirit; my pirogue bounded along the troubled waters of the ocean as if it possessed wings. One would have said that I had twenty rowers at my disposal, and I cleft the waves with the same rapidity as the halcyon's flight, when wafted away by the hurricane. After a short time's laborious and painful rowing I at last came in view of the corsairs who were carrying away my treasure. At the sight my strength was renewed again, and I was soon up with them. When I was side by side with them I informed them, in words the most feeling, and which sprang from my poor lacerated heart, that Theresa was my wife, and that I would prefer being a slave with her to abandoning her. The pirates listened to my voice, stifled by my tears, and took me on board, not from commiseration, but from cruelty. In fact, I was a slave more added to their numbers: why should they have repulsed me? A few days after that fatal evening we arrived at Jolo. There the division of the slaves was made, and the master into whose hands we fell took us away with him. Was it, then, to undergo a like destiny that I had dived so early in the morning for a pearl for the Infant Jesus of Zébou? Yes, was it for this that I had made a vow to bring him the first pearl I should find? Notwithstanding my profound sorrow I murmured not, neither did I regret my offering. The Lord was the master! His will should be done." Here Relempago paused, and looked towards Heaven with a smile of angelic resignation, and we then remarked upon his face the furrows traced by the deep sorrows of his life. The wind was still blowing with violence, and our boat was dancing on the waves; our sailors had finished their repast, and, in order to listen to the fisherman's tale of woe, had taken up their place by his side. Their features wore an expression of the most innocent attention; so, having made a sign to the narrator, he resumed his story as follows:--