Escapes from Cayenne

82 o u r h e a d s ; the thirst is parching our throats, the h u n g e r is imperious and d e v o u r s our stomachs. W e are in that state for a few hours only, but it seems to h a v e been so for m a n y years.

W e are quite silent—no one o f us utters a w o r d , n o one dares to proffer a murmur, but w e are l o o k i n g o n e at the other, and our e y e s are m o r e eloquent than our lips c o u l d be.

In order to complete our griefs, w e perceive in the distance a thick cloud o f smoke, w h i c h is formed, w i t h ­ out doubt b y the c h i m n e y of a steamship. Our persecu­ tors have dispatched a man o f w a r in pursuit o f us.—E l e m e n t s and men c o m b i n e their strength against u s , w e m u s t c o m b i n e ours against them. " O h ! brethren, oh ! put d o w n the sail, take the oars and pull t o w a r d s the s h o r e ; we must strive with m i g h t a n d m a i n to escape our enemies."

5 o ' c l o c k P. M. One hour ago a small breeze began to b l o w , and w e h a v e a strong w i n d n o w . W e are trying b y all means in our p o w e r , to gain the open sea, b e c a u s e c e r ­ tain infallible signs announce to us a hurricane, and it is less dangerous, in those circumstances, to be far from than near the shore.

T h e steam man o f w a r , our pursuer, is far ahead and out o f s i g h t ; w e prefer that ; as she goes a great deal quicker than w e do, w e d o n ' t fear her a p p r o a c h .

7 o'clock. P. M. T h e hurricane is n o w in all its strength.

W o could not carry sail and have put it d o w n ; w e c o u l d not steer and our h e l m is lying d o w n ; the darkness is thick, the noise is horrid, the water is hissing, the a b y s s e s are wide open, the w a v e s pass o v e r our heads, nature is o v e r t h r o w n , and our poor raft goes at G o d ' s pleasure. Wec l i n g to her with our hands, w e raise our hearts to the m i g h t y Creator o f all things, and we let our destiny be fulfilled w i t h o u t useless despair, but with little h o p e o f escaping.

Midnight.

T h e hurricane is pacified, and the sea is not quite so furious.

W e lOOK around us and see but water a n d s k y ; w e don't k n o w w h e r e w e are, w e d o n ' t k n o w w h e r e w e go to ; w e raise our sail, w e take our helm, and w e steer our shattered raft a p p r o x i m a t e l y to the west.

W e are sailing for three or four hours w h e n w e perceive m o v i n g l i g h t s ; w e suppose them to be near land and g o t o w a r d s those l i g h t s ; they b e c o m e more and more distinct: t h e y are v e r y near, so near that w e see h u m a n s h a d o w s o n shore. " C o m e this w a y , sirs, c o m e this w a y , " says a m a n l y v o i c e in g o o d F r e n c h , free from a n y foreign accent. " G o a w a y , g o a w a y and m a k e haste," I whisper to o u r