On returning from my walk, I met Mr. Shaw, leaving his room with his guard by his side; taken out, I supposed, for a similar purpose. I saw he was not looking well, and spoke to him, saying, “how do you feel this morning?” His answer was, “pretty miserable;” and he seemed about to say something more, but my guard pushed between us, saying, with an oath, “We can’t have any talking, captain; we have the general’s orders against it.” I was hurried into my room, and Mr. Shaw led away. This was the last time I ever saw him; for, for some reason which I never could learn, he was not brought back to the barracks, but confined in a building outside the fortification. It seemed to me, that with the sense of his nearness to me, I had lost my last friend; so lonely and miserable did I feel when he had left. CHAPTER III. My prison--My guards--An English hymn book--A fellow prisoner--Capture of the Eliza Cornish--Fears of the English mate--Death of Mr. Shaw--Of Captain Talbot and boy--Barbarity of their execution--The Chilian prisoners sympathize with us--Cambiaso’s bravado--Captain Avalos and others led out to view the dead bodies--Treacherous betrayal of Governor Gamero--Execution of the traitor--My walk. I now began to feel for a few days, some of the monotony of a prisoner’s life. Shut up alone, without occupation, within hearing of the riotous conversation of my guard, but forbidden to speak to them, with hard fare, and no arrangements for my personal comfort or even cleanliness, except when I could take water enough from the guard room to wash my face, using my pocket handkerchief for a towel. Three or four days had passed, and I had lost the fear of immediate death, but my suspense and anxiety to know what Cambiaso’s intentions with regard to us were, were very great. There seemed to me no motive that he could have for keeping us prisoners, after he had satisfied himself that we had no treasure on board the Florida, except the fear that we would carry the news of his revolt back to Valparaiso; and that danger to himself, it seemed to me, could be obviated only by putting us to death. It was in vain that I applied to my guards; they were evidently under orders to hold no communication with me, and the prisoners who visited me from time to time, knew nothing of Cambiaso’s plans. To my entreaties to be allowed to see Mr. Shaw, no answer was given, except that it could not be allowed, that he had been sick, and was now very unwell.