Here the sights and scenes were such as need not be described.

Of the miserable captives some lay on the wet ground, men and women together, trying to forget their sorrows in sleep; but the most part of them were awake, and the sound of moans ran up and down their lines like the moaning of trees in the wind.
When they saw the light the slaves ceased moaning, and crouched upon the ground like dogs that await the whip, for they thought that this was a visit from their captors.

Some of them, indeed, stretched out their manacled hands imploring pity, but these were the exceptions; the most of them had abandoned hope and were sunk in dull despair.

It was pitiful to see the glance of their terror-filled eyes and the answering quiver of their wealed frames whenever an arm was lifted or a sudden movement made.
Soa went down the line, rapidly examining the faces of the slaves.
"Do you see any of Mavoom's people ?" asked Leonard anxiously.
"Not here, White Man; let us go to the next shed, unless you want to loose these." "No good in that, mother," said Otter; "they would only betray us." So they went to the next shed--in all there were four--and here at the second man who was sleeping, his head bowed on his chained hands, Soa stopped suddenly like a pointer dog when he scents game.
"Peter, Peter," she said.
The man awoke--he was a fine fellow about thirty years of age--and glared round wildly.
"Who called me by my old name ?" he said hoarsely.

"Nay, I dream, Peter is dead." "Peter," said the woman again, "awake, child of Mavoom; it is I, Soa, who am come to save you." The man cried aloud and began to tremble, but the other slaves took no notice, thinking only that he had been smitten with a scourge.
"Be silent," said Soa again, "or we are lost.