He took the men by the hand as they came up, and told them that they were free.
As you might expect, the poor fellows were very grateful; some laughed, some wept for joy, some shouted and sang, and threw up their caps, while others, with David Matson among them, knelt down on the chips, and thanked God for the great deliverance.
"This is a very affecting scene," said the commissioner, wiping his eyes.

"I must keep the impression of it for my 'Columbiad';" and drawing out his tablet, he proceeded to write on the spot an apostrophe to Freedom, which afterwards found a place in his great epic.
David Matson had saved a little money during his captivity by odd jobs and work on holidays.

He got a passage to Malaga, where he bought a nice shawl for his wife and a watch for each of his boys.

He then went to the quay, where an American ship was lying just ready to sail for Boston.
Almost the first man he saw on board was Pelatiah Curtis, who had rowed him down to the port seven years before.

He found that his old neighbor did not know him, so changed was he with his long beard and Moorish dress, whereupon, without telling his name, he began to put questions about his old home, and finally asked him if he knew a Mrs.Matson.
"I rather think I do," said Pelatiah; "she's my wife." "Your wife!" cried the other.