I was more than two months ashore, behaving myself rationally on account of my arm. At the end of that time, I went on board the Sally, a ship also bound to Greenock, as her second-mate. This vessel belonged to Charleston, and it was intended she should return to her own port. The voyage turned out well, and my arm got as strong as ever. On reaching Charleston, I left the craft, which was laid up, and shipped in a schooner of the same name, bound to St. Domingo, as her chief mate. This was no great craft, certainly, though she proved a tight, wholesome sea-boat. We went out without any accident, arriving in safety at Cape Henry. After discharging cargo, and smuggling on board a quantity of doubloons--four hundred and eighty, it was said--we got under way for the island of Cuba. We intended to go into Matanzas, and kept along the coast. After crossing the Windward Passage, we reached Cuba; and were standing on, with a light wind, under our square-sail, the morning of the third day out, when we saw a large boat, carrying two sails, standing out from the shore, evidently in chase of the schooner. We had on board eight souls, viz. the owner, a Frenchman, who had been a dragoon in the service of his own country, but who was now between seventy and eighty; the captain, myself, a boy, the cook, and four men forward. We could see that there were nine men in the boat. We had no arms in the schooner, not even a pistol, and the men in the boat had muskets. We did not ascertain this last fact, however, for some time. I thought the strangers pirates the moment I saw them come out from under the land, but the captain maintained that they were turtle-men. The boat was rowing, and came up with us, hand over hand. When near, they commenced firing muskets at us, to drive us below. All the crew forward, with the cook, ran down into the forecastle, leaving no one on deck but the captain, the old Frenchman, and myself. The boy got into the companion-way.