At last day broke, and about sunrise the breeze sprung up off shore. The skipper of the schooner weighed anchor and the vessel put to sea, towing the launch astern. Walker ordered the San José to be kept two or three leagues from the land, steering for Realejo, and watching in-shore for the Vesta. A native woman of Chinandega, Sam’s mistress, and who sailed with him on his voyages, managed the rudder of the launch. Three or four hours passed thus; the riflemen in the stern with their eyes constantly on the launch, and with orders to shoot Dewey if he attempted to cut the lines by which she was towed. The small hold of the boat enabled Dewey to keep out of sight, and as he had a couple of army revolvers with him, and was a remarkable shot, it was necessary for the men watching him to keep themselves covered. It was a contest between crime and law after the fashion of the Indian. After a while Dewey rose stealthily from the hold, and managing to place the woman between himself and the riflemen, was evidently preparing to make a desperate effort to cut loose from the schooner. The woman was warned in Spanish to keep clear from Dewey, and was told that death would be the result if she attempted to aid him in his plans. But the poor creature was unable to get away from the man. The order was given to the riflemen to watch their opportunity and shoot Dewey when they could do so without endangering the woman. The discharge of a couple of rifles, almost at the same instant, told that the opportunity had been found. Dewey dropped into the hold, shot through the body; but the ball, passing entirely through him, had, unfortunately, inflicted a painful and dangerous wound on the woman. The woman was brought aboard the San José; her wound was dressed by the surgeon, and she recovered in a short time her usual health. Dewey’s body was sewed up in canvas and buried at sea. I have minutely narrated the circumstances attending Dewey’s death, because they made a deep impression on the native mind, and gave a certain and decided character to the Americans in the democratic service. The Nicaraguans conceived from these events a respectful idea of American justice. They saw that the men they had been taught to call “filibusters,” intended to maintain law and secure order wherever they went; that they had the will to administer justice, and would, when they had the power, protect the weak and the innocent from the crimes of the lawless and abandoned. And it is this sentiment stamped deeply on the people of Nicaragua which makes the evil-doers of that land dread the re-appearance of the Americans in the country. The anarchy and license of thirty-five years of revolution have unfitted the political leaders for subjecting their lawless passions and unbridled impulses to the fixed rule of unchanging and unswerving duty.