The ship by which Mr Collinson and his companions had been rescued was the Poisson Volant, a privateer fitted out at Port a Petre, in Dominique.  She had had a long run of ill-luck, so the surgeon told him, and this had put her officers in very bad humour.  The dark, stout man was her captain, of whom the surgeon seemed to stand greatly in awe.

“He would make no scruple of shooting any one through the head who offends him, and as I have no fancy to be treated in that way, I purpose, if I can once get on shore, to leave the ship.”

This was not very pleasant information; but Mr Collinson hoped to be able to escape giving the tyrant any cause of offence.  Bill Sunnyside was very hungry, as were his companions, when they fell asleep.  He kept dreaming about feasts, and then at length he thought he was once more at home, and that his mother had got a capital supper ready for him, and that she and his brothers and sisters were collected round the table, and he thought that he himself was, somehow or other, kept out of the room.  The smell of the sausages, however, came through a chink in the door, and made him feel still more hungry.  He could not open the door, and he could not cry out to ask any one to let him in.  Still, there they all sat, with the sausages bubbling away on the table, and the kettle hissing on the hearth, and a large loaf of bread and a big pat of butter, all ready, waiting to be eaten.  At length he made a run, and resolved to burst open the door, when he heard old Grim sing out, and he found that he had, somehow or other, tumbled over him.  His nostrils were at the same time assailed with savoury odours, and he saw men coming from the galley-fire with pans and dishes from which wreaths of steam were ascending.  The mess-tables were quickly spread, and the men began their dinners.  Bill and his companions watched them for some minutes, and could then stand it no longer, but getting up, they came to the nearest mess-table, pointing to their mouths.  The Frenchmen laughed, and then invited them to join them.

“It was the smell of their dinner made me dream,” thought Bill, as he thankfully accepted the dish of soup and meat which was handed to him.  Never had he eaten a more delicious mess; hunger, indeed, increased its flavour, and he did his best to show the Frenchmen the satisfaction it afforded him.  They seemed much amused when he held out his bowl for more.  Of course, Bill could not understand what was said, as none appeared to speak English.  When dinner was over, Bill and his companions were allowed to lie down again out of the way, on the hammocks, and were once more quickly asleep.  They woke up again at supper-time, when Bill felt himself perfectly ready for another meal.  The next day, however, the Frenchmen looked somewhat sulkily at them, and some hard biscuit and water was given them for breakfast; while at dinner, instead of being invited to the messes, a bowl of soup was placed before them, from which, by signs, they understood they were to help themselves.  The next day their bedding was taken away, and they found that they had only the hard deck to lie upon.  Grimshaw, as may be supposed, grumbled greatly.

“We must bear it, however,” said Bill.  “The voyage will come to an end before long; then, I suppose, if the English have got hold of any Frenchmen, these people will be glad to give us up, and get them back instead.  I wonder how Mr Collinson is getting on?  I hope they don’t treat him as they do us.”

Although Grimshaw grumbled, he could not help acknowledging that they were all gaining health and strength, with the rest they were enjoying; and in the course of three days they were so much better, that they could manage to crawl on deck.  The wind had been very light, so they had made but little progress.  As they were able to get into a shady place, the fresh air revived them.  Bill looked aft, anxiously looking for Mr Collinson, but he did not appear.  When he attempted to go aft himself, one of the seamen made signs to him that he was to remain where he was.  The ship was running some three or four knots only through the water, with all sail set.

“I say, Tommy,” said Bill to his companion, “there’s another chance of our escaping a French prison.  What do you think if the Lilly, or some other ship of war, was to fall in with us?  That would be a happy thing.”

“I don’t know,” answered Tommy.  “Perhaps they would cut our throats and throw us overboard, just in revenge.  They look as if they were up to anything of that sort.”

“No no, Tommy!  Don’t be cast down.  I would run the risk of that, for, rough as they are, I don’t think they would do anything as bad as that.”

At length the town of Point a Petre, in the island of Dominique, appeared in sight.  All this time they had not seen Mr Collinson, nor had they been able to hear anything about him.  When the ship came to an anchor, they were ordered below.  After some time they were called on deck, and they then saw that a French boat with six soldiers was alongside.

“You Englishmen, get into that boat!” shouted the mulatto captain.

They of course obeyed.  As soon as they were in her, they saw Mr Collinson, who had just then come up on deck, look over the side.

“Glad, sir, to see that no harm has happened to you,” shouted Jack.  “We hope you are coming with us.”

“I believe I am, my men; and thanks to you for your kind wishes,” answered Mr Collinson, who just then turned round to shake hands with the surgeon.  Directly afterwards, he came down the side into the boat.

As soon as they landed, they were taken up before a military officer, who cross-questioned them, by means of an interpreter, addressing Mr Collinson directly in French.

“You are to be sent into the interior,” said the interpreter, “and you will there remain, till the war is concluded.”

Their examination being over, they were taken away by the guards who had them in charge.  Mr Collinson had, fortunately, his purse in his pocket with a few gold pieces.

“Now, my men,” he said, “I wish to lay this out to the best advantage of us all.  If I spend it in clothing, which we all very much want, we shall have nothing to buy food.  I will, therefore, reserve it for an emergency.”

The lieutenant, however, supplied the party with hats, which they very much wanted.  Though shoes would have been pleasant, they could still do without them.  Their clothes were, as may be supposed, in a sadly tattered condition.  To obtain new ones, was out of the question.  Their guards, however, allowed them to go to the barber’s, where, their hair being cut, they looked a little less like Robinson Crusoes than they had hitherto done.  They were then marched to the prison, and were all shut up in a room, with no greater indulgence shown to Mr Collinson than to them.

“It’s a great shame!” exclaimed Jack Windy, “to treat our officer in this way.  It’s all very right and proper for us, but they ought to show more respect, that they ought.”

“Never mind, my lad,” said Mr Collinson.  “I thank you for your good feeling, and more faithful, kind fellows I could not wish to be cast among.”

Next day the gaoler came in, and told them they were to prepare for a journey, and in a short time they were brought out of prison, at the door of which they found four mules waiting to carry them, with a guard of black soldiers.

“You speak French?” said a man, addressing the first lieutenant.  “Tell your people, then, that each of the men is to mount a mule, while one will serve for the two boys.  You take the other.”

The animals were far from gaily caparisoned, straw packs on their backs serving the place of saddles.  The boys quickly climbed up to the back of their beast, while the lieutenant and the two men mounted theirs.

“Forward!” was the word given, and they moved on, the black soldiers, grinning and gabbling negro French, running by their sides.  They were soon out of the town, and proceeding along a dusty road, with coffee-plantations on either side, no trees remaining to shelter them from the sun.  At length, however, they got into a wilder part of the country, where the dense tropical vegetation occasionally afforded them shade.  After some miles, they came in sight of a large country house.  Hot, thirsty, and weary, they turned their eyes towards it, wishing that some of the inmates might have the charity to invite them to stop and rest.

“If you will tell me what to say, sir, I will go and ask,” said Bill, “if the guards will let me.”

Mr Collinson advised him simply to point to his mouth, and to make signs that he was very weary.  The guards, who were entertaining, perhaps, the same ideas as their prisoners, without difficulty let Bill go off, while they drew up in the shade near the house.  In a short time Bill returned.

“It’s all right, sir,” he said.  “There was a tall young lady came out, and she looked so kindly at me when I spoke; and when I pointed to you all here, she made signs that we were to come up to the house.”

Mr Collinson, on this, explained to the guards what the boy said, and the whole party proceeded to the wide steps which led up to the entrance-door, under a deep verandah.  The young lady was there.  Mr Collinson took off his hat, and explained in his best French who they were.

“Oh!” she said, “my father will be at home presently, and he, I am sure, will gladly afford you any assistance in his power.”

On this they all dismounted, the black soldiers taking the mules round to the stables by the side of the house, allowing their prisoners to follow the young lady into the interior.  She led them into a large airy room, covered with fine matting, the only furniture consisting of several cane sofas and chairs, and a long table down the centre.  She then clapped her hands, and a negro servant appeared.

“He will attend on you,” she said, “while I go and see that a meal is prepared for you.  My father will, I hope, soon return, and will, I am sure, be glad to afford you every assistance in his power.”

The negro looked at Mr Collinson with a somewhat doubtful air, but the few fragments of gold lace remaining on his coat showed him that he was an officer.

“Would monsieur like to refresh himself?” he asked.  “A bath is at his service, and, pardon me, monsieur, perhaps a fresh suit of clothes would be pleasant in which to sit down to dinner.”

“Indeed, thank you,” answered Mr Collinson, “but I must beg you at the same time to look after my people.  We all have gone through many hardships, and I dare say they will enjoy a bath and some clean clothes as much as I shall.”

“Yes, yes!  I will look after them,” answered the negro, in French; not very good French, by-the-by, but Mr Collinson understood it.  “I must, however, obey my young mistress first, and attend to you; so, if monsieur pleases, come along.”

Saying this, the negro led the way out into a garden, where was a building with a marble bath, through which the water ran from a copious stream.  Leaving the lieutenant, he soon returned with a supply of light clothing, such as is usually worn in that climate.  The lieutenant could not help feeling, when he returned into the dining-room, that he was far more presentable than he had been before.  On looking out of the window, he saw Jack and Grimshaw with the two boys, coming along laughing heartily, dressed in negro costume of shirt and trousers.  Considering the heat of the weather, their clothing was ample.  Though it had not a nautical cut, any one looking at them would easily have discovered that they were British seamen, as they rolled along in their usual happy-go-lucky style.