We anxiously watched for the return of the boat, for if the demand were not acceded to we should have, it was understood, to go in and cut out the ships with our boats. Many liked the thought of such an exploit, in spite of its dangerous character. It was very possible that the French captain might hope, with the support of the fort, to be able to beat off the boats, and to hold out until the squadron should be driven off by a storm. At last the boat was seen returning. The frigate was the one which had escaped from us. Her captain wisely agreed to yield to the fortune of war, and to give her up with all her prizes, and the fort into the bargain. "And what is the name of the other ship?" I asked. "The _Barbara_ merchantman," answered the lieutenant. "She was on the point of sailing with a French crew when we appeared, so that her owners have had a narrow chance of losing their property." This was, indeed, satisfactory news. I was, of course, very eager to go on board and hear from Captain Hassall what he intended doing. The account brought off as to the state of the English garrison was melancholy. The fort was built in an especially unhealthy spot, with marshy undrained land close round it. The consequence was, that of the fifty men who had been sent there, when the French appeared not a dozen were alive, and that sad remainder were scarcely able to lift their muskets. They had therefore at once yielded to the enemy. Several others had since died, but the sickly season being now over, it was hoped that the remainder would live on till the next year, when in all probability during the same season they would share the fate of their comrades. I got a passage in one of the next boats which pulled in. Captain Hassall had been allowed by the French to return to his ship, and he was taking a turn on deck when I went alongside. He looked at me curiously two or three times when I stepped on deck, and, raising his hat, inquired what I wanted. Suddenly he stopped when he got close up to me, exclaiming, "What! James Braithwaite, my dear boy, is it really you? I am delighted to see you, for to say the truth, I had given you up as lost. I never supposed that cockleshell of a boat in which you left the ship would have survived the hurricane which came on directly afterwards." There was one question above all others I wished to ask him, "Have you written home to tell my friends of my loss?" "No," he answered; "I have so often found people turn up whom I thought had been lost, that I am very unwilling to send home bad news till it is absolutely necessary, and as I did not require your signature, I was able to avoid mentioning that you were not on board."