At last several stout negroes entered the hut, and while some of them lifted up the captain and carried him out, two seized me by the collar, and dragged me after him. I thought that they were about to throw us over the cliffs, or to hang us or shoot us forthwith. I could only think of one way by which we had the slightest prospect of escaping. It was that the government authorities might have heard of the outbreak, and sent troops to attack the rebels. I did not know in those days that those sort of gentlemen considered the art of tying up packages neatly with red tape to be the most important of their official duties, and that they were not apt to do anything in a hurry of so trifling importance as attempting to save the lives of a few people! We very soon reached a large concourse of people in an open space. On one side of the ground there was a steep bank, on the top of which a chair or throne was placed, whereon sat a tall fine-looking negro, dressed somewhat in military style, while a number of other men sat round him. On the level ground, on one side, was a group of some twenty white men, among whom I recognised our companions in the defence of the house. They had their hands bound, and were strongly guarded by armed negroes. We were carried up and placed among them. Two or three other prisoners arrived after us, and served to increase our unhappy group. A sort of trial was then commenced, and several Maroons stepped forward, accusing the whites of unheard-of cruelties, and especially of being taken with arms in our hands against the authority of the true and proper chief of the island. It is impossible to describe the absurd language used, and the ceremonies gone through. It would have been a complete burlesque had not the matter been somewhat too serious. As it was, when one of the counsellors kicked another for interrupting him, and the judge threw a calabash at their heads to call them to order, I could not help bursting into a fit of laughter, which was soon quelled when one of my guards gave me a progue with the tip of his spear, to remind me where I was. I very nearly broke out again when the one who was hit looked up and exclaimed, "What dat for, Pompey, you scoundrel you?--What you tink me made of, hey?"