Bartholemy was now greatly in fear that, when his escape was discovered,
he would be tracked by bloodhounds,--for these dogs were much used by
the Spaniards in pursuing escaping slaves or prisoners,--and he
therefore did not feel safe in immediately making his way along the
coast, which was what he wished to do. If the hounds should get upon his
trail, he was a lost man. The desperate pirate, therefore, determined to
give the bloodhounds no chance to follow him, and for three days he
remained in a marshy forest, in the dark recesses of which he could
hide, and where the water, which covered the ground, prevented the dogs
from following his scent. He had nothing to eat except a few roots of
water-plants, but he was accustomed to privation, and these kept him
alive. Often he heard the hounds baying on the dry land adjoining the
marsh, and sometimes he saw at night distant torches, which he was sure
were carried by men who were hunting for him.
But at last the pursuit seemed to be given up; and hearing no more dogs
and seeing no more flickering lights, Bartholemy left the marsh and set
out on his long journey down the coast. The place he wished to reach was
called Golpho Triste, which was forty leagues away, but where he had
reason to suppose he would find some friends. When he came out from
among the trees, he mounted a small hill and looked back upon the town.
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