Cuffee liked not to inform against him; and the next morning bringing intelligence of the death of the governor’s son, and consequently the prorogation of the ball, he was in hopes the negroes would get disheartened at the failure of their plans, and forego their horrible intentions. Still he determined to keep an eye upon their movements; and a few weeks after, through the medium of another slave, named Manuel, he discovered that the conspirators intended to put their designs into execution on the 15th of December; and that they were to have a final meeting in the ravine, to receive orders from their king. These were the tidings Cuffee conveyed to his master’s ear— tidings which made his stout heart beat faster, and caused a shade of care, for once, to cross his brow. The time was short: the next night was the one on which the negroes were to meet, and Mr. ———, after leaving a kind message to his daughter, to excuse his absence, started immediately for the capital, accompanied by Robin and Cuffee, to lay the information before the proper authorities. * * * * * The evening was calm. There was no moon, but the stars shone bright, and, by their refulgence, parties of men were seen walking cautiously along in the same direction. Every now and then they stopped as if to listen, and then proceeded again, as no sound met their ear. Leaving the high road, they struck across a wild and sterile plain, until, arriving at the bank of a kind of rocky defile, where the sable conspirators held their nocturnal meetings, they separated; and taking up their position on all sides, and holding their very breath, they presented more the appearance of marble statues than living men. After remaining in this situation for some time, a noise was heard as the tramp of a body of horse passing over a flinty road—no uncommon occurrence at that period. The sound came nearer and nearer, and presently a large band of soldiers appeared in sight, led by a middle-aged officer, and accompanied by several gentlemen. Riding for a short distance past the ravine, the word was given, “Halt!” and in a moment the horses stood motionless. “Dismount!” broke from the lips of the commander, and the men, all heavily armed, sprang to the ground. Walking quickly forward, they joined the watchers around the ravine, while their leader, followed by many others, bounded down the bank, and exclaimed, in a stentorian tone, “Surrender! or you are dead men.” All was confusion among the assembled conspirators. Hemmed in on all sides, and daunted by the gleaming arms and pointed muskets of the soldiers, who came so silently but surely upon them, the negro band were driven to despair. Klaas alone maintained his firmness, and shouted in a voice of thunder, “Fire the gunpowder, lads, fire the gunpowder, and let us die as brave men, and not as cowards. Who will mourn the fate which will be shared by our hated tyrants!” But this was not to be.