I was in the cabin of the vessel; I had the curiosity to look furtively at the crew of the boat, and there I perceived, with a dissatisfaction which may easily be imagined, one of the sailors of the “Mistic,” commanded by Don Manuel de Vacaro, of the name of Pablo Blanco, of Palamos, who had often acted as my servant during my geodesic operations.  My false passport would become from this moment useless, if Pablo should recognize me:  I went to bed at once, covered my head with the counterpane, and lay as still as a statue.

During the two days which elapsed between our capture and our entrance into the roads of Rosas, Pablo, whose curiosity often brought him into the room, used to exclaim, “There is one passenger whom I have not yet managed to get a sight of.”

When we arrived at Rosas it was decided that we should be placed in quarantine in a dismantled windmill, situated on the road leading to Figueras.  I was careful to disembark in a boat to which Pablo did not belong.  The corsair departed for a new cruise, and I was for a moment freed from the harassing thoughts which my old servant had caused me.

Our ship was richly laden; the Spanish authorities were immediately desirous to declare it a lawful prize.  They pretended to believe that I was the proprietor of it, and wished, in order to hasten things, to interrogate me, even without awaiting the completion of the quarantine.  They stretched two cords between the mill and the shore, and a judge placed himself in front of me.  As the interrogatories were made from a good distance, the numerous audience which encircled us took a direct part in the questions and answers.  I will endeavour to reproduce this dialogue with all possible fidelity:—­

“Who are you?”

“A poor roving merchant.”

“Whence do you come?”

“From a country where you certainly never were.”

“In a word, what country is it?”

I was afraid to answer, for the passports, steeped in vinegar, were in the hands of the judge-instructor, and I had forgotten whether I was from Schwekat or from Leoben.  Finally I answered at all hazards:—­

“I come from Schwekat.”

And this information happily was found to agree with that of the passport.

“You are as much from Schwekat as I am,” answered the judge.  “You are Spanish, and, moreover, a Spaniard from the kingdom of Valencia, as I perceive by your accent.”

“Would you punish me, sir, because nature has endowed me with the gift of languages?  I learn with facility the dialects of those countries through which I pass in the exercise of my trade; I have learnt, for example, the dialect of Iviza.”

“Very well, you shall be taken at your word.  I see here a soldier from Iviza; you shall hold a conversation with him.”

“I consent; I will even sing the goat song.”

Each of the verses of this song (if verses they be) terminates by an imitation of the bleating of the goat.