Accordingly, a bond was taken of the captain for eighty thousand dollars, as a measure of precaution, in case it should be found necessary to let the ship go without further parley, and a prize master having been put on board the Tonawanda, was ordered to keep company, and her captor started off on a chase after a brig, which on being overhauled proved to be English.  One transfer, however, was made from the prize, being nothing less than a well-grown and intelligent negro lad, named David White, the slave of one of the passengers, who was transferred to the Alabama as waiter to the wardroom mess, where he remained until the closing scene off Cherbourg, by no means disposed, so far as his own word may be taken for it, to regret the change of masters.

The following day, as an additional security, the master of the Tonawanda was brought as a hostage on board the Confederate steamer, the prisoners from the last two ships burned being at the same time transferred to the prize.  In this manner the two vessels cruised in company for two or three days—­an anxious time enough for the crew and passengers of the unlucky Tonawanda, who spent most of their time in eagerly scanning the horizon, in the hope that some armed vessel of their own nation might appear in sight, and rescue them from their unpleasant predicament.  No such luck, however, was to be theirs; but on the 11th October, a fresh addition was made to their numbers in the crew of the Manchester, a fine United States ship from New York to Liverpool, the glare of which as she, like so many others, was committed to the flames, by no means alleviated their anxiety, as they thought how soon a similar fate might befall their own vessel, should fortune not interpose to arrest the disaster.

At length, on the 13th October, excitement prevailed on board of both vessels, and the hopes of the anxious passengers on board the Tonawanda rose to fever pitch, as a large vessel was seen bearing down under topsails only, her easy-going style of sailing seeming to prove conclusively to a sailor’s eye, that she must be either a whaler or a man-of-war.  On board the Alabama the former was the favorite supposition, and hopes ran high of another glorious bonfire fed by tons of brightly burning sperm oil.  The aspirations of the Tonawanda were naturally in favor of the man-of-war, and it was with difficulty that considerations of prudence restrained the open exhibition of their delight as the stranger drew near, and the long pendant floating proudly from her masthead seemed to assure them that their hopes were to be fulfilled.

But disappointment was equally in store for all.  The big easy-going ship proved to be nothing more or less than an ordinary Spanish merchantman, who, with more regard for personal appearance than maritime etiquette, had quietly appropriated to herself the distinguishing ornament of a man-of-war.  So the guns of the Alabama, which had been cast loose and loaded, were again secured, and the crew dismissed from quarters; while the disconsolate Tonawandas, balked of their fondly anticipated rescue, shook their fists at the deceptive Spaniard, and went below to digest as best they might their grievous disappointment.