“Therefore,” added Littlestone, “we are resigned to our fate as prisoners of war; but still we hope.”

“And not without good reason,” said Willis; “for it will go hard with me if I do not realize your hopes, and that very shortly too.”

“I do not see very well how our hopes of liberty can be realized till peace is proclaimed.”

“Peace!” exclaimed Willis.  “Yes, in another twenty years or so, perhaps; to wail for such an unlikely event will never do; my young friend, Master Jack Becker, is in a hurry, and we must all leave this place within a month at latest.”

“You mean us, then, to make our escape, Willis; but that is impossible.”

“I have an idea that it is not impossible, captain; the cargo Masters Fritz and Jack have here will realize a large sum; the pearls, saffron, and cochineal, are bringing their weight in gold.  I shall be able to charter or buy a ship with the proceeds, and some dark night we shall all embark; and if a surgeon is not willing to come of his own accord, I shall press the best one in the place:  it won’t be the first time I have done such a thing, with much less excuse.”

“One will be willing,” said Jack; “so you need not introduce One-eyed Dick’s schooner here, Willis.”

“So far so good, then; it only remains for us to smuggle the captain, the missionary, and the crew of the Nelson on board.”

“But we are prisoners,” said Littlestone.

“I know that well enough; if you were not prisoners, of course there would be no difficulty.”

“Recollect, Willis, we are not only prisoners, but we are on parole.”

“True,” said Willis, scratching his ear, “I did not think of that.”

“The situation,” remarked Jack, “is something like that of Louis XIV. at the famous passage of the Rhine, of whom Boileau said:  ’His grandeur tied him to the banks.’  Had you been only a common sailor, captain, a parole would not have stood in the way of your escape.”

“But,” said Willis, “the parole can be given up, can it not?”

“Not without a reasonable excuse,” replied the captain.

“Well,” continued Willis, “you can go with the minister to the Maritime Prefect, and say:  ’Sir, you know that everyone’s country is dear to one’s heart, and you will not be astonished to hear that myself and friend have an ardent desire to return to ours.  This desire on our part is so great, that some day we may be tempted to fly, and, consequently, forfeit our honor; for, after all, there are only a few miles of sea between us and our homes.  We ought not to trust to our strength when we know we are weak.  Do us, therefore, the favor to withdraw our parole; we prefer to take up our abode in a prison, so that, if we can escape, we may do so with our honor intact.”

“And suppose this favor granted, we shall be securely shut up in a dungeon.  I scarcely think that would alter our position for the better, or render our escape practicable.”