The next three hours we spent in anxious listening to what was going on without; Mr. Dunn and myself now and then exchanging a word in a whisper. Every attempt that we made to look from our little window was prevented by our guard, who stood closely gathered about both door and window, every now and then looking in upon us. Without, all was very still and orderly; no noisy rioting to be heard, nothing, save every now and then the tread of soldiers, or the usual noises attending the regular military duty of a barrack yard. We expected every moment to hear the noise of firing, or some shout of exultation, if the officers of the Virago were entrapped as we had been; but all was quiet. Towards the middle of the afternoon, the English mate and myself were taken out, and conducted to our old prison. All was quiet in the yard, and as I glanced around, I saw no new faces, no change in the arrangement of the soldiers, no building guarded but those which I had been accustomed to recognize as prisons for my crew, the crew of the E. Cornish, and the room where captain Avalos, and the prisoners with him, were confined. Arrived at our old home, the guard became more communicative, and told me that our prison had been changed to keep us out of sight of the English officers, who had come on shore, visited the barracks, and the Florida, and had left the harbor without having their suspicions excited. This chance of escape was lost to us then. I felt very indignant at what seemed to me the unparalleled stupidity of the officers of the Virago, and yet it is very possible that had their suspicions been excited, we might all have fallen victims to the revengeful spirit of the rebels, before any thing could have been done for our rescue. During that evening and the next day, I managed to extract from my guard and from one or two of my fellow voyagers, the Chilian prisoners, who had now become almost regular visitors to my room, an account of all that had occurred during the visit of the Virago to the colony.