Escapes from Cayenne

17 voice, and, two minutes after this order was given, it was executed by all the men. This time we were not on the bank o f mud which runs parallel with the shore, from Cayenne to Demerara: we were too far from land for that.

The Chevalier (that is our ship's name) was in a patch of mud, and her position was not critical at all.

Capt. Foskey, by a very skilful manœuvre, which consisted in turning around the patch, disengaged his ship, and we got away for the third and last time.

We enter the river of Demerara.

I can distinctly see both banks ; the shore is very low, and the water, in color and thickness, is like chocolate. On our left lies Georgetown, in the county of Demerara, and capital of the whole of British Gniana.

I land with Capt. Foskey ; nobody, gendarmes, soldiers, or policemen, asked our passports, as they are accustomed to do in my country.

I am well satisfied with this, for the good reason that I have none to exhibit. In France they surely would put me in prison ; here, they take no notice of me.

I prefer the English fashion. In France, Custom House officers would look in my pockets, in my hat, in my shoes, in my stockings, to see if I have or have not any newspapers, books, prohibited goods or infernal machine. They would ask me my christian name, my family name, and m y nick name ; they would take good care to see if I have not a double skin purposely made to hide a Ledru Rollin's pamphlet or something o f that kind.

In Georgetown no one pays the least attention to me.

English manners are positively better than French. I must confess.

Capt. Foskey introduces me among his friends and acquaintances. I am welcomed every where. Many captains of English ships ask me different questions about my confinement in France, in Africa, and. lately, in Cayenne.

I answer the truth, no more than the truth, but the entire truth. They are indignant at my oppressors' conduct, and they pity the sufferings of French Republicans, who, in February. 1848," granted a sublime pardon to their enemies, and who, four months afterwards, in June, 1848, were so indignantly and shamefully treated by them. The very same men, when victorious, have been proclaimed unconquerable heroes by the whole press ; when vanquished, they have been called thieves, murderers, incendiaries, by governmental and venal newspapers, Constitutionel, Assemblee Nationale, and many others.

Poor France ! in what hands are you fallen !

English captains offered me to take my board and lodging in their ships, but I declined this kind offer; I had some money, and would not increase my obligations too much. They were quite willing to carry me to England without any expense, but 2