The morning of the 4th of December, while the mate and myself were eating our scanty allowance of hard bread, washed down by the water which we had taken from the dirty buckets in the guard room, a shout rose in the yard, “A steamer! a war steamer, with the English flag!” My heart leaped to my mouth, as I sprung to my feet, and the mate seemed to gather courage from the very sense of the vicinity of his countrymen, and from his confidence in the protection of his flag. One moment’s glance showed me that even amidst their excitement, some of the guards were watching us from the other room; and managing to caution the mate by a glance, I endeavored to assume as natural an air as possible, listening and asking questions as if from mere curiosity. I gathered from the guard and from the idlers round the camp who flocked in, that Cambiaso had expressed his determination to attempt to capture the steamer; that the Chilian flag had been run up at the flag-staff, and a gun fired to attract the attention of the steamer, and induce them to come into the harbor and drop anchor. At last, she was seen to make for the harbor, and to be evidently making preparations to anchor. Her name, they told me, was the Virago. [Illustration] [Illustration] During the last hour, the mate and myself had been forming a thousand plans by which we hoped to attract the attention of the officers or men of the steamer, when they landed, and warn them of their own danger, and of our situation; but our plans were quickly frustrated; for no sooner had the steamer come to anchor, than the mate and myself were hurriedly taken from our room, and led across the yard towards a smaller building. In vain I questioned those who were leading me, as to where I was going; my only answer was a hasty oath, and an order to be quiet. The door of the little calaboose was opened, and we were pushed into a room about eight feet square, and the bolts drawn behind us. Before me, sitting or lying on the floor, were six haggard looking men, heavily ironed. I spoke to them in Spanish, but was answered by one of them in good English, who said, “You are the captain of the American barque?” I started with surprise, for I immediately thought him an American; and I saw that he was a gentleman, or something beyond a common sailor. And what American could be confined there, not belonging to the Florida? Could there have been another vessel captured by these pirates, of which I had heard nothing? “Who are you?” I eagerly asked; “are you an American? How came you in this wretched place?” He answered that his name was Dunn, and that he was a Brazilian, who had been employed by governor Gamero as his secretary. That he had been seized by Cambiaso’s orders, at the time of his insurrection, and confined in that filthy den ever since. While he was speaking, one of our guard knocked on the door, and ordered silence, saying that he would shoot down the first one of us who troubled him again.