Such was the state of things, when, one fine night, we arrived
in the manner already related. The French kept constant look-outs, and
it seems we were seen, a distant speck on the ocean, just as the sun
set, while the low trees of the island eluded our vigilance. By the
aid of a good night-glass, our movements were watched, and a boat was
about to be sent out to warn us of our danger, when we passed within
the reef. Captain Le Compte knew the chances were twenty to one that
we were an enemy, and he chose to lie concealed to watch the result.
As soon as we had anchored within the basin, and silence prevailed in
the ship, he manned his own gig, and pulled with muffled oars up under
our bows, to reconnoitre. Finding everything quiet, he ventured into
the fore-chains, and thence on deck, accompanied by three of his
men. He found Harris, snoring with his back supported against a
gun-carriage, and immediately secured him. Then, it only remained to
close the forescuttle and the cabin-doors, and to fasten them, to have
us all prisoners below. The boat was sent for more men, and hours
before any of us in the berths were awake, the ship had effectually
changed masters. Harris told our story, and the captors knew our whole
history, from the day of sailing down to the present time.
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