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.