The jailer seeing him at the grating, anticipated his complaint.  “Well, Pereira,—­what’s the matter up-stairs?” said he.

“For God’s sake, jailer, what am I put in here for-to starve?  We cannot eat the meat you send us, and we have had little else than bread and water for three days.  Do give us something to eat, and charge it to consul, or Captain, an’ I’ll pay it from my wages when I get out, if I ever do,” said he.

“My dear fellow!” said the jailer, “no one knows your case better than I do; but I am poor, and the restrictions which I am under allow me no privileges.  You had all better take your meat in the morning-if you won’t take soup-and try to cook it, or get Jane to do it for you.  I will give you some coffee and bread from my own table, to-night, and you better say as little about it as possible, for if Grimshaw hears it, he may lock you up.”

“Do, I shall be very thankful, for we are really suffering from hunger, in our cell, and I pay you when I get money from Captain,” said Manuel, manifesting his thankfulness at the jailer’s kindness.

“I will send it up in a few minutes, but you needn’t trouble yourself about pay-I wouldn’t accept it!” said the jailer; and as good as his word, he sent them up a nice bowl of coffee for each, and some bread, butter, and cheese.  They partook of the humble fare, with many thanks to the donor.  Having despatched it, they seated themselves upon the floor, around the faint glimmer of a tin lamp, while Copeland read the twentieth and twenty-first chapters of the Acts of the Apostles.  Copeland was a pious negro, and his behaviour during his imprisonment enlisted the respect of every one in jail.  Singular as the taste may seem, he had his corner in the cell decorated with little framed prints.  Among them we noticed one of the crucifixion, and another of the Madonna.  After reading the chapters, they retired to their hard beds.  About nine o’clock the next morning, Daley came to the door with a piece of neck meat, so tainted and bloody that its smell and looks more than satisfied the stomach.

“Here it is, boys,” said he; “yer four pound, but ye’s better take soup, cos ye’ll niver cook that bone, anyhow.”

“Do you think we’re like dogs, to eat such filth as that?  No!  I’d rather starve!” said Manuel.

“Indeed, an’ ye’ll larn to ate any thing win ye’d be here a month.  But be dad, if ye don’t watch number one about here, ye’s won’t get much nohow,” replied Daley, dropping the bloody neck upon the floor, and walking out.

“Better take it,” said Copeland.  “There’s no choice, and hunger don’t stand for dainties, especially in this jail, where everybody is famished for punishment.  If we don’t eat it, we can give it to some of the poor prisoners up-stairs.”

“While I have good ship-owners, and a good Captain, I never will eat such stuff as that; oh! no,” returned Manuel.

The meat was laid in a corner for the benefit of the flies; and when dinner time arrived, the same hard extreme arrived with it-bread and water.  And nobody seemed to have any anxieties on their behalf; for two of them had written notes to their Captains, on the day previous, but they remained in the office for want of a messenger to carry them.  Fortunately, Jane called upon them in the afternoon, and brought a nice dish of rice and another of homony.