Then came the retreat. Away we flew--the Frenchmen, with our wounded man, towards the mountains; some of our men up one street, some down another, while I made a bee-line for the wharf and the boat. The howling mob behind pursued me hotly. Occasionally I would stop and shake my cane at them, which had the effect of bringing them to a momentary halt. Then I was off again. I don't wonder at their halting when I swung round upon them, for I must have cut a most awful figure. Blood-stained and ragged, with the excitement of battle showing in my eyes and face, they must have thought I was mad, and for the moment I suppose I was. Soon the wharf hove into view. Out in the bay I could see the lights of my ship. With beating heart and laboured breath I sped on. Suddenly someone rushed out at me from a dark corner. For a moment I staggered; then, as he raced on at my side, I discovered, to my joy, that it was one of my shipmates. Another hundred yards and we should be safe. Then, without warning, we ran straight into the arms of a cordon of _vigilantes_ drawn up in a semicircle awaiting our approach! It was all over. Unresistingly we allowed ourselves to be manacled, and, guarded on either side by half-a-dozen men with shouldered rifles and fixed bayonets, we were driven off to the "calaboose," two officers on horseback bringing up the rear of the cavalcade. Thrown into a cell, where I found my comrades already housed, I had ample time to meditate upon the events of the last hour or two. I had been in many a scrape before, but this was the first time I had ever been on the hither side of prison walls, and now that the excitement had passed, I fairly recoiled at the disgrace of it. My head ached, my feet were lacerated, I was dirty, blood-stained, and nearly naked. I looked around the filthy place, at the no less filthy Chilanos--our fellow-prisoners, who jeered at us derisively--and groaned aloud. Though feeling my position keenly, I was by no means sorry for what I had done. I had acted, I told myself, just as any other Englishman would under the circumstances. I had been goaded into it, and the blame lay with Don Carlos and his rascally compatriot. Arraigned before the judge the next day we presented a bedraggled appearance. Through an interpreter the charge was explained to us, evidence was heard, and the case decided. After we had been removed we found that the prison-sheet contained the following notice: "Alberto Crafto, José Essien, Juan Andres, Carlos Parko, Tomaso Mahan, twenty-five days' imprisonment each." The Frenchmen were not in it--they had apparently got clear away to the hills. [Illustration: "I BROUGHT HIM TO THE GROUND WITH A 'CUT ONE,' DELIVERED WITH ALL THE FORCE I POSSESSED."] Prison life was not so bad, save for the taint and the vile companions amongst whom we were thrown. We were fairly well treated and fed, had plenty of outdoor recreation, and labour of any description was never asked of one.