pared even the farce of a trial. My only hope was
that Captain Cochin, who had not been unkind to me so far, would speak a
word in my favour.

We were marched to a dismal, white-washed guard-house on the edge of the
town, and were there locked up by half-dozens till it suited the
admiral's convenience to consider our case, and that was not till next
day. The cell in which I and five of my shipmates were confined was a
small, underground cellar, reeking with damp and foul smells, and lit
only by a narrow grating in the ceiling, through which all night the
rain poured steadily, forming a huge puddle in the middle of the earth
floor.

There was one narrow bench on which we sat huddled together, to eat our
scanty portion of black bread, and pass the dismal night as best we
could. For my part, that night reconciled me to the prospect of a
French gallows as much as anything.

In the morning we were ordered to march once more, and were brought into
the presence of some official who acted as judge to try cases of
misdemeanour on the high seas. With the exception of Captain Cochin and
myself (I was able to speak the language a little) few of us understood
French, and the formality of having the proceedings interpreted to us
was not even allowed. The captain and certain of the crew of the
merchantman were present and told their grievance, and with a large
sweep of assumption swore that we were each as bad as the other. The
judge demanded what Captain Cochin had to say, and cut him short before
he had well opened his mouth.

I made a feeble effort to put myself right, not so much in any hope of
moving the tribunal as of reminding Captain Cochin of my claims on his
good offices. But he was too savage and perturbed to take the hint.

Then it came out that we were bringing arms into France, and were called
to prove that they were not for the use of the enemies of liberty. Whom
were they consigned to? They were not consigned.--Where did they come
from? Ireland.--Ireland was in sympathy with France in her war against
tyranny. To rob Ireland was to rob the friend of France. To whom were
the arms about to be sold? To any that would buy them.--None but the
enemies of France needed arms. Her sons were all armed already.
Therefore the traffic was not only wicked but treasonable, and for
treason there was but one punishment--death.

At this the audience, who had crowded into the court, cheered loudly.

Had we any defenc