occurred since we were marched away,
prisoners, from the sea-shore.

I tightened my hold of the child on my
back; took Miss Maryon closer to me, to save
her from being roughly jostled by the men
about us; and marched up as near to the
front as the press and the trees would let me.
Looking over the heads of the Indians, and
between the trunks, I beheld a sight which I
shall never forget: no, not to my dying day.

A wilderness of ruins spread out before me,
overrun by a forest of trees. In every direction,
look where I would, a frightful confusion
of idols, pillars, blocks of stone, heavy walls,
and flights of steps, met my eye; some, whole
and upright; others, broken and scattered on
the ground; and all, whatever their condition,
overgrown and clasped about by roots,
branches, and curling vines, that writhed
round them like so many great snakes.
Every here and there, strange buildings stood
up, with walls on the tops of which three
men might have marched abreast—buildings
with their roofs burst off or tumbled in, and
with the trees springing up from inside, and
waving their restless shadows mournfully
over the ruins. High in the midst of this
desolation, towered a broad platform of
rocky earth, scarped away on three sides,
so as to make it unapproachable except
by scaling ladders. On the fourth side,
the flat of the platform was reached by
a flight of stone steps, of such mighty size
and strength that they might have been made
for the use of a race of giants. They led to a
huge building girded all round with a row of
thick pillars, long enough and broad enough
to cover the whole flat space of ground;
solid enough, as to the walls, to stand for
ever; but broken in, at most places, as to the
roof; and overshadowed by the trees that
sprang up from inside, like the smaller houses
already mentioned, below it. This was the
dismal ruin which was called the Palace; and
this was the Prison in the Woods which was
to be the place of our captivity.

The screeching voice of the Pirate Captain
restored order in our ranks, and sent the
Indians forward with their chopping-knives to
the steps of the Palace. We were directed to
follow them across the ruins, and in and out
among the trees. Out of every ugly crevice
crack in the great stairs, there sprouted up
flowers, long grasses, and beautiful large-
leaved plants and bushes. When we had
toiled to the top of the flight, we could look
back from the height over the dark waving
top of the forest behind us. More than a
glimpse of the magnificent sight, however,
was not allowed: we were ordered still to
follow the Indians. They had already
disappeared in the inside of the Palace; and we
went in after them.

We found ourselves, first, under a square
portico, supported upon immense flat slabs of stone,
which were carved all over, at top and
bottom, with death's-heads set in the midst of
circles of sculptured flowers. I guessed the
length of the portico to be, at the very least,
three hundred feet. In the inside wall of it,
appeared four high gaping doorways; three
of them were entirely choked up by fallen
stones: so jammed together, and so girt about
by roots and climbing plants, that no force
short of a blast of gunpowder, could possibly
have dislodged them. The fourth entrance
had, at some former time, been kept just
clear enough to allow of the passing of one
man at once through the gap that had been
made in the fallen stones. Through this,
the only passage left into the Palace, or out
of it, we followed the Indians into a great hall,
nearly one half of which was still covered
by the remains of the roof. In the unsheltered
half: surrounded by broken stones
and with a carved human head, five times
the size of life, leaning against it: rose the
straight, naked trunk of a beautiful tree,
that shot up high above the ruins, and
dropped its enormous branches from the
very top of it, bending down towards us, in
curves like plumes of immense green feathers.
In this hall, which was big enough to hold
double our number, we were ordered to make
a halt, while the Pirate Captain, accompanied
by three of his crew, followed the Indians
through a doorway, leading off to the left
hand, as we stood with our backs to the
portico. In front of us, towards the right,
was another doorway, through which we
could see some of the Indians, cutting away
with their knives, right and left, at the
overspreading underwood. Even the noise
of the hacking, and the hum and murmur
of the people outside, who were unloading
the mules, seemed to be sounds too faint
and trifling to break the awful stillness of
the ruins. To my ears, at least, the
unearthly silence was deepened rather than
broken by the few feeble sounds which
tried to disturb it. The wailings of the
poor children were stifled within them. The
whispers of the women, and the heavy
breathing of the overlaboured men, sank
and sank gradually till they were heard no
more. Looking back now, at the whole
course of our troubles, I think I can safely
say that nothing—not even the first discovery
of the treachery on the Island—tried
our courage and endurance like that interval
of speechless waiting in the Palace, with the
hush of the ruined city, and the dimness
of the endless forest, all about us.

When we next saw the Pirate Captain, he
appeared at the doorway to the right, just
as the Pirates began to crowd in from the
portico, with the baggage they had taken
from the mules.

"There is the way for the Buccaniers,"
squeaks the Pirate Captain, addressing the
American mate, and pointing to the doorway
on the left. "Three big rooms, that will hold
you all, and that have more of the roof left on
them than any of the others. The prisoners,"