With an embrace and a God-speed from Commodore Barney, I sailed with Captain Eaton for Tunis. Arriving there, Mr. Cathcart led the captain to the Bey's palace. I was allowed to follow. We were ushered into the Bey's Hall of State, and there the captain must approach and bow to a fat-faced individual who frowned on him as if he were a stray cur that had wandered in among his satins and velvets. This fellow, from his safe place among his over-dressed officers, poured out abuse. "It is now more than a year since your country promised me gifts of arms and ships! Why have they not been sent to me?" Captain Eaton replied with dignity: "The treaty was received by our government about eight months ago; a malady then raged in our capital, which forced not only the citizens, but all the departments of the government, to fly into the interior villages of the country. About the time the plague ceased to rage, and permitted the return of the government, the winter shut up our harbors with ice. We are also engaged in a war with France; and all our means were used to defend ourselves against that country." He then went on to explain that he was empowered to offer a cash sum instead of the naval stores promised. "I am not a beggar," said the Bey, "I have cash to spare. The stores are more than ever needed because of my war with France. You have found no trouble in fulfilling your promises to Algiers and Tripoli; and to Algiers have made presents of frigates and other armed vessels." The captain explained that the Dey of Algiers had agreed to pay for certain armed vessels built for him by the United States, and that, moreover, several years' time had been allowed for their delivery. "You may inform me," said the Bey, "that the Dey of Algiers paid you cash for your vessels. I do not believe it." Arguments such as this one went on forever. Our first pilgrimage, after becoming settled in Tunis, was to visit the hill which was once the site of Carthage. We passed through fertile pastures where donkeys, sheep, cattle, and camels were feeding, and among fields of wheat, barley, and oats where awkward camels were used for plowing. Captain Eaton's military soul became aroused as we stood at the place where the great Hannibal was born. My chief was well acquainted with Carthaginian history and thrilled me with his description of how Hannibal, commanding an army of paid mercenaries--Africans, Spaniards, Gauls, and Italians--managed them for thirteen years through wars and hardships in a foreign country without experiencing a single mutiny. Captain Eaton little dreamed that, on a small scale to be sure, fate had designed him to play the part of a Hannibal for his own country--but this will be told in due time.