He went, and quick as thought, came back to say that they were all round the fire, and that the man who was bound on the sand would be the next they would kill. But when he told me that it was a white man, one of my own race, I felt the blood boil in my veins. Two of the gang had gone to loose the white man from his bonds; so now was the time to fire. At the sound of our guns, we saw all the men jump up from the ground where they sat. It must have been the first gun the I had heard in their lives. They knew not which way to look. I now threw down my piece, and took up a small gun; Friday did the same; and I gave him the word to fire! The men ran right and left, with yells and screams. I now made a rush out of the wood, that they might see me, with my man Friday at my heels, of course. We gave a loud shout, and ran up to the white man as fast as we could. There he lay on the hot sand. I cut the flag, or rush, by which he was bound, but he was too weak to stand or speak, so I gave him some rum. He let me know by all the signs that he could think of, how much he stood in my debt for all that I had done for him. I said, "We will talk of that bye and bye; but now we must do what we can to save our lives." Friday, who was free to go where he chose, flew here and there, and put all the men to the rout. They fled in full haste to their boats, and were soon out at sea; and so we got rid of our foes at last. The man whom we had found on the sand told us that his name was Carl, and that he came from Spain. But there was one more man to claim our care; for the black men had left a small boat on the sands, and in this I saw a poor wretch who lay half dead. He could not so much as look up, so tight was he bound, neck and heels. When I cut the bonds from him he gave a deep groan, for he thought that all this was but to lead him out to die. Friday then came up, and I bade him speak to the old man in his own tongue, and tell him that he was free. This good news gave him strength, and he sat up in the boat. But when Friday came to hear him talk, and to look him in the face, it brought the tears to my eyes to see him kiss and hug the poor old man, and dance round him with joy, then weep, wring his hands, and beat his own face and head, and then laugh once more, sing, and leap. For a long time he could not speak to me, so as to, let me know what all this meant. But at length he told me that he was the son of this poor old man, and that his name was Jaf. It would be a hard task for me to tell of all the quaint, signs Friday made to show his joy. He went in and out of the boat five or six times, sat down by old Jaf, and held the poor old man's head close to his breast to warm it; then he set to work to rub his arms and feet, which were cold and stiff from the bonds. I told Friday to give him some rum and bread; but he said, "None! Bad dog eat all up self." He then ran off straight to the house, and took no heed of my calls, but went as swift as a deer.