seamen were stabbed, the Spanish first mate had two musket balls
in him, and a passenger was killed in the fray.

Having driven the slaves below and battened them down, the
American party returned next morning to put the irons on them. A
horrid sight confronted them. Thirsting for vengeance, the
Spanish sailors had spread-eagled several of the negroes to
ringbolts in the deck and were shaving the living flesh from them
with razor-edged boarding lances. Captain Delano thereupon
disarmed these brutes and locked them up in their turn, taking
possession of the ship until he could restore order. The sequel
was that he received the august thanks of the Viceroy of Chili
and a gold medal from His Catholic Majesty. As was the custom,
the guilty slaves, poor wretches, were condemned to be dragged to
the gibbet at the tails of mules, to be hanged, their bodies
burned, and their heads stuck upon poles in the plaza.

It was while in this Chilean port of Talcahuano that Amasa Delano
heard the tale of the British whaler which had sailed just before
his arrival. He tells it so well that I am tempted to quote it as
a generous tribute to a sailor of a rival race. After all, they
were sprung from a common stock and blood was thicker than water.
Besides, it is the sort of yarn that ought to be dragged to the
light of day from its musty burial between the covers of Delano's
rare and ancient "Voyages and Travels."

The whaler Betsy, it seems, went in and anchored under the guns
of the forts to seek provisions and make repairs. The captain
went ashore to interview the officials, leaving word that no
Spaniards should be allowed to come aboard because of the bad