“It is entirely useless,” I answered him, wearied with all these conversations, “that you follow me up with these earnest appeals. Again, once for all, I have nothing else to say to you but what I have so often repeated.” He then spoke to the sailor who acted as interpreter, and who had kept his eyes on me during all this interview, to see whither I directed my looks. He then went out to visit my cocoa-grove. I then recalled a little interview I had with the captain, a few days before. I said to him “that, if the sentinels had done their duty, and given us notice of the arrival of the enemy, we would have concealed our most valuable effects.” “In what place,” he asked me, “would you have hid all these things? Would you have hid them in the ground?” “No,” I replied; “we would have been contented with carrying them into the woods, and covering them with branches.” It was, then, for this, that these cunning pirates, who weigh and put together all our words, imagining that I did not have sufficient time to carry very far what I esteemed most precious, were induced, as the last effort of their cupidity and distrust, to make a search under the trees in my garden. But it was impossible that they should find what had never been placed there; so the sailor soon grew tired of searching; and, he having returned, we went together to the fort,--they without any booty, and I with some few of the papers I had collected. Then for some time they consulted together, and about three o’clock they went to set my house on fire. I prayed them at least to spare the church, and this they promised me. But, notwithstanding, they burned it; and when I complained, they told me that the winds, which that day were very high there, had undoubtedly carried thither some sparks, which had set it on fire. With this answer I was obliged to be contented, leaving to God the time, the care, and the manner of avenging the insult offered to His house. For myself, seeing the flames rising up to the clouds, and having my heart pained with the most lively sorrow, I began to recite the seventy-eighth Psalm, “_Deus venerunt gentes_,” &c. (“O God, the heathen are come into thine inheritance,” &c.) At last, after every thing was carried to the boats, we ourselves embarked. It was a little after five o’clock; and the sailors, who were to follow us in two small boats, finished by burning all the buildings of the fort. At length, having rowed out a little into the river, and allowing themselves to clear the shore very slowly with the current, they shouted many times, “_Houra_,” which is their “_Vive le roi_,” and their cry of joy. They had not, however, any great occasion to pride themselves on their expedition, since, had it not been for the black treason which delivered us into their hands, they would never have succeeded. Neither was it of any use; because, though they had inflicted a great injury on us, they had themselves derived very little profit from it.