"They will be careful how they attack Portuguese in a hurry, I
expect," rejoined Krantz. "I think so," replied the soldier. "Did you lose many men?" ventured Philip, perceiving that the man was
loquacious. "Not ten of our own people. In the factory there were about a hundred
of the natives, with some women and children; but that is of no
consequence." "You had a young European woman here, I understand," said Philip with
anxiety; "one who was wrecked in a vessel--was she among those who
were lost?" "Young woman!--Holy St Francis. Yes, now I recollect. Why the fact
is--"

"Pedro!" called a voice from above; the man stopped, put his fingers
to his lips, went out, and locked the door. "God of Heaven! give me patience," cried Philip; "but this is too
trying." "He will be down here again to-morrow morning," observed Krantz. "Yes! to-morrow morning; but what an endless time will suspense make
of the intervening hours." "I feel for you," replied Krantz; "but what can be done? The hours
must pass, though suspense draws them out into interminable years; but
I hear footsteps." Again the door was unlocked, and the first soldier made his
appearance. "Follow me--the Commandant would speak with you." This unexpected summons was cheerfully complied with by Philip and his
companion. They walked up the narrow stone steps, and at last found
themselves in a small room, in presence of the Commandant, with whom
our readers have been already made acquainted. He was lolling on a
small sofa, his long sword lay on the table before him, and two young
native women were fanning him, one at his head, and the other at his
feet. "Where did you get those dresses?" was the first interrogatory. "The natives, when they brought us prisoners from the island on which
we had saved ourselves, took away our clothes, and gave us these as a
present from their king." "And engaged you to serve in their fleet, in the attack on this fort?" "They forced us," replied Krantz; "for as there was no war between our
nations, we objected to this service: notwithstanding which, they put
us on board, to make the common people believe that they were assisted
by Europeans." "How am I to know the truth of this?" "You have our word in the first place, and our escape from them in the
second." "You belonged to a Dutch East-Indiaman. Are you officers or common
seamen?" Krantz, who considered that they were less likely to be detained if
they concealed their rank on board, gave Philip a slight touch with
his finger as he replied, "We are inferior officers. I was third mate,
and this man was pilot." "And your captain, where is he?" "I--I cannot say, whether he is alive or dead." "Had you no woman on board?" "Yes! the captain had his wife." "What has become of her?" "She is supposed to have perished on a portion of the raft which broke
adrift." "Ha!" replied the Commandant, who remained silent for some time. Philip looked at Krantz, as much as to say, "Why all this subterfuge;"
but Krantz gave him a sign to leave him to speak. "You say you don't know whether your captain is alive or dead?" "I do." "Now, suppose I was to give you your liberty, would you have any
objection to sign a paper, stating his death, and swearing to the
truth of it?" Philip stared at the Commandant, and then at Krantz. "I see no objection, exactly; except that if it were sent home to
Holland we might get into trouble. May I ask, signor Commandant, why
you wish for such a paper?" "No!" roared the little man, in a voice like thunder. "I will give
no reason, but that I wish it; that is enough; take your choice--the
dungeon, or liberty and a passage by the first vessel which calls." "I don't doubt--in fact--I'm sure, he must be dead by this time,"
replied Krantz, drawing out the words in a musing manner. "Commandant,
will you give us till to-morrow morning to make our calculations?" "Yes! you may go." "But not to the dungeon, Commandant," replied Krantz; "we are not
prisoners, certainly; and, if you wish us to do you a favour, surely
you will not ill-treat us?" "By your own acknowledgment you have taken up arms against the
most Christian King; however, you may remain at liberty for the
night--to-morrow morning will decide whether or no you are prisoners." Philip and Krantz thanked the little Commandant for his kindness, and
then hastened away to the ramparts. It was now dark, and the moon had
not yet made her appearance. They sat there on the parapet, enjoying
the breeze, and feeling the delight of liberty, even after their short
incarceration; but, near to them, soldiers were either standing or
lying, and they spoke but in whispers. "What could he mean by requiring us to give a certificate of the
captain's death; and why did you answer as you did?" "Philip Vanderdecken, that I have often thought of the fate of your
beautiful wife, you may imagine; and, when I heard that she was
brought here, I then trembled for her. What must she appear, lovely as
she is, when placed in comparison with the women of this country? And
that little Commandant--is he not the very person who would be taken
with her charms? I denied our condition, because I thought he would
be more likely to allow us our liberty as humble individuals, than as
captain and first mate; particularly as he suspects that we led on the
Ternate people to the attack; and when he asked for a certificate
of your death, I immediately imagined that he wanted it in order to
induce Amine to marry him. But where is she? is the question. If we
could only find out that soldier, we might gain some information." "Depend upon it, she is here," replied Philip, clenching his hands. "I am inclined to think so," said Krantz; "that she is alive, I feel
assured." The conversation was continued until the moon rose, and threw her
beams over the tumbling waters. Philip and Krantz turned their faces
towards the sea, and leant over the battlements in silence; after some
time their reveries were disturbed by a person coming up to them with
a "_Buenos noctes, signor_." Krantz immediately recognised the Portuguese soldier, whose
conversation with him had been interrupted. "Good-night, my friend! We thank Heaven that you have no longer to
turn the key upon us." "Yes, I'm surprised!" replied the soldier, in a low tone. "Our
Commandant is fond of exercising his power; he rules here without
appeal, that I can tell you." "He is not within hearing of us now," replied Krantz. "It is a lovely
spot this to live in! How long have you been in this country?" "Now, thirteen years, signor, and I'm tired of it. I have a wife and
children in Oporto--that is, I _had_--but whether they are alive or
not, who can tell?" "Do you not expect to return and see them?" "Return--signor! no Portuguese soldier like me ever returns. We are
enlisted for five years, and we lay our bones here." "That is hard indeed." "Hard, signor," replied the soldier in a low whisper; "it is cruel
and treacherous.