who were standing below, with smutty faces and red flannel shirts, as though they had been brought up to that business. Also Captain Reese, Dan, and Dick Barclay, with English names and English protections in their pockets, and who looked as independent as wood-sawyers. Also Dr. Sinnickson, who had been released by President Santa Anna at the instance of General Thompson.3 Captain Loyd told me that there would be no danger that night, and in the morning he would stow me safely below when the boarding-officer came alongside.

We had a good sleep this night, and early next morning the captain told me that he would go ashore with his boat, and when the officer started to come on board he would make a signal, and then I was to go below and crawl under the boilers. The boat's hour for sailing was 8 o'clock A.M., and her steam had been up half an hour when Loyd made the concerted signal from the Mole. I went below, and crawled into the darkest and hottest place this side of the infernal regions. Every five seconds I had to turn over to keep from burning to death. I was willing to take a good scorching, as I had settled it in my mind never to be taken back to prison [367] alive. The hour which the officer occupied in examining the passports and vessel appeared to me to be a year, and being nearly exhausted, I determined to come out and meet the consequences. As I reached the front of the fireman's hole, the officers were getting into their boats, and Loyd called to me.

Being helped out of the hole by the firemen, with much difficulty I reached the cabin, and called to the negro steward, "For God's sake, to give me a bowl of water."

My inferior wardrobe and dirty appearance, covered with sweat and coal-dust, speaking thus to the head steward, stirred up his aristocracy. He slowly turned his head over his shoulder, and eyeing me with the most significant contempt, said, "Look here, stranger, you cabin passenger?" "Yes," was the reply; when, giving another look at me, he said, "I doubt it d--nably."

I replied, "My good fellow, you have a perfect right to doubt it; but ask that man," pointing to the captain. He went to the captain, and pointing to me with increased contempt, said, "Captain, is that fellow a cabin passenger?" The captain chucked him in the side, and whispered, "Yes; that is General Green, of Texas; and get him what he wants."

The poor steward came to me with the most contrite physiognomy imaginable, and after poking his face close to mine, and peeping through sweat, dust, and beard, he discovered behind these uncomfortable companions an old friend and acquaintance. [368] "Good God!" says he, "master, I know you now;" and from that time this deeply-mortified black man smothered me with kindness. He had been steward of steamboats in the United States, and I had travelled often with him before.

We were now at sea, with a clear sky and fair prospects, and having fair