In about an hour I was called out of my room, and told that I was wanted in the yard. I went out doggedly, for this day of excitement had worn me down into a sort of indifference as to my fate; but the scene that lay before me when I reached the platform, which, raised above the rest of the yard, commanded a view of the land beyond the fortification, roused me at once from my indifference. In the field north of the barracks, was dug a deep hole, in which a large fire was kindled, which threw its red light on all around. On the trees, to the right, hung the dead bodies of Mr. Shaw, captain Talbot, and the boy, and beneath them were dimly seen the bleeding corpses of the governor and priest. The rebels were busied around the fire and the bodies, and Cambiaso, with some mounted officers, were to be seen giving directions. Soon I saw a cart driven up to the fire, and a dead body thrown from it into the flames, with as little ceremony as one would treat a dog. One of my guard standing by me, said, “There goes the governor.” The bodies of Mr. Shaw, captain Talbot, and the poor English boy were one by one cut down, and thrust into the fire. The women of the camp had pleaded with Cambiaso to allow the body of the priest to be buried, and he, having perhaps some feelings of reverence for his sacred office, had allowed it to be given into their hands. More fuel was now heaped on the flames, and their lurid light showed me a scene which makes me shudder as I recall it.
The soldiers danced round the fire, singing the national hymn of Chili, and mingling with it shouts and curses, imprecations on the governor, and threats of vengeance against the remaining prisoners; especially against captain Salas, the commander of the troops under Gamero, and against captain Avalos, whose rank as an officer under the government of Chili seemed to be his only crime. The darkness of the night, the lurid glare of the flames, the fantastic dancing of the soldiers, the mingled shouts and curses that met my ear, made every thing appear to me like some revelry in hell, where the souls of the damned make merry over their fellow sufferers. On this evening the barque’s papers, also my private papers, were burnt, with shouts of joy.