Captain Drouant from Marseilles, was still
on shore. There remained but an hour of
twilight; he might possibly be saved. The
bold young Breton therefore went ashore
again in a canoe, and, when he landed, bade
the sailors abide by the boat until he or
Captain Drouant should come to them. He then
began his search; and, at a little place called
Puesta Baga, perceived a group of three or
four hundred Indians. Among them they
had the unlucky captain, pale as a ghost:
whom a wild Indian with a kris in his hand
held by the shoulder. Down rushed Doctor
Pablo on the group, thrust the wild Indian
to the right and Captain Drouant to the left,
and pointing out where the boat was, bade
the captain run and save himself. The
captain ran, and the Indians were too much
surprised at the presumption of his rescuer
to take immediate heed of the departure of
their victim; so the captain reached the boat,
and pulled away from shore.

But, how was Doctor Pablo to escape?
The Indian whom he had thrust aside, ran
at him with uplifted arm; him the young
surgeon met by a blow on the head with
a little cane. The man ran back to his
companions, amazed and wrathful. Knives
were drawn on all sides, and a circle was
formed about the mad white man; one
would not strike alone, but a score or
two would strike together. The circle was
closing, when an Indian soldier, armed with
a musket, jumped into the midst. Holding
his musket by the muzzle, he swung it
violently round at arm's length, and the
revolving butt-end soon cleared a wide space.
"Fly, sir!" the soldier said; "nobody will
touch a hair of you while I am here."

In truth a way was opened, by which the
young man was quietly permitted to depart;
as he went, the soldier cried after him,
"You cared for my wife when she was ill,
and refused money; now you are paid."

Captain Drouant having taken the canoe,
Monsieur Paul had no course left him but to
go to his old home in Cavita. On the way,
he met a crowd of workers from the arsenal,
who had set out with hatchets to attack the
ships.  Among these, too, there was a friend
who pinned him to a wall, concealed his
person until his companions were gone by, and
then urged him to promise that he would not
go on board the ships, but hide on shore.

The Doctor's case was little improved
when he reached home. There came a
knocking at the door, and a whispering
outside, of "Doctor Pablo." It was the friendly
voice of a Chinese storekeeper.

"What have you to say, Yang-Po?"

"Doctor Pablo, save yourself. The Indians
intend attacking you this night."

Doctor Pablo would not save himself
by flight; he thought it best to barricade
his doors with furniture, to load his pistols,
and to abide the issue.

Wearied by a day of anxiety, excitement,
and severe physical labour, the beleaguered
Frenchman found it difficult to keep awake
and watchful, through the first hours of the
night. At eleven o'clock there came again
a knocking, hurriedly repeated.

"Who is there?"

"We are friends. The Indians are behind
us. Escape through the roof at the back,
and you will find us in the street of the
Campanario."

He took this good advice, and had not long
escaped before the house was searched and
pillaged. His new friends sheltered him for
the night, and were about to convey him to
his ship on the succeeding morning, when one
of them brought him a letter signed by all
the captains in harbour, saying that being
in momentary fear of attack, they had
determined to heave anchor, and stand out to sea;
but that two of them, Drouant and Perroux,
would have to leave on land part of their
provisions, their sails, and their water, unless
he would send those stores off by means of
a canoe which was sent with the letter, and
was subject to his orders.

"The safety of two ships," said the young
surgeon, "depends on sending off this water
and these stores."

"Your own safety," his friends replied,
"depends on getting off yourself, and that
immediately."

"I am resolved to see after the stores."

"Then go alone, for we will not escort you
to destruction."

Doctor Pablo did go alone, and found upon
the shore a crowd of Indians watching the
ships. He believed that by not fearing them he
would remove nearly all cause for fear, and
therefore went boldly up to them, saying,
"Which of you would like to earn some
money? I will give any man a piastre for a
day's work." There was a silence. Presently
one said, "You do not seem to be afraid of
us." "Why, no," he replied, drawing his two
pistols;" you see I stake only one life against
two." The men were at his service in a
minute; two hundred were chosen; a note
was pencilled and sent off by the canoe to
summon all the ship's boats to convey the
stores. A quantity of money belonging to
Captain Drouant was taken to the beach
secretly by the pocketful, and deposited in a
corner of one of the boats. All went well;
there was only one unlucky accident. When
Captain Perroux's sails were being repaired,
one of the men engaged in the work had died
of cholera, and the rest, fearing infection, had
wrapped him up hurriedly in a small sail
and run away. The Indians, in moving the
sailcloths, uncovered the body, and were at
once in an uproar. This was, they said, a
French plot for poisoning the air and spreading
the infection. "Nonsense, men," said
Pablo. "Afraid of a poor devil dead of
cholera? So be it. I'll soon relieve you of
him." Then, with a great display of coolness
which he did not altogether feel, he wrapped