as I by the
sight of all those fellows. I ran my eye swiftly over them; they were
variously dressed--some in the attire of seamen, some in such clothes
as gentlemen of that period wore, a few in a puzzling sort of military
undress. They all had cropped heads, and many were grim with a few
days' growth of beard and moustache. They had the felon's look, and
there was somehow a suggestion of escaped prisoners in their general
bearing. A dark suspicion rushed upon me with the velocity of thought,
as I stood on the threshold of the door of the berth for the space of
a few heart-beats, gazing at the mob.

"The cabin was a plain, old-fashioned interior. A stout, wide table
secured to stanchions ran amidships. Overhead was a skylight. There
were a few chairs on either hand the table, and down the cabin on both
sides went a length of lockers. Some of the men were smoking. A few
sat upon the table with their arms folded; others lounged upon the
lockers, and in chairs. They stared like one man at me, whilst I stood
looking at them.

"'Is he a navigator, Swallow?' said one of them--a wiry, dark-faced
man, who held his head hung, and looked at you by lifting his eyes.

"'Ay, mate of the whaler--James Grainger by name,' answered the fellow
who had opened the door of my berth. 'Salute him, bullies. He's the
charley-pitcher for to handle this butter-box.'

"The voices of the men swelled into a roar of welcomes of as many
sorts as there were speakers. One of them came round the table and
shook me by the hand.

"'My name's Alexander Stevenson,' said he; 'come and sit you down
here.'

"All very civilly he conducted me to a chair at the head of the table.
And now, happening to glance upwards, I spied seven or eight faces
peering down at me through the skylight.

"'Swallow, do the jawing, will 'ee?' said the man who called himself
Stevenson.

"'Why, yes,' answered Swallow, posting himself at the top of the
table, and addressing me through the double ranks of men on either
side. 'This is how it stands with us, Mr. Grainger--clear as mud in a
wineglass; and we're sorry it should have come to it, for your sake.
But do your duty by us faithfully, and we'll take care you sha'n't
suffer. We're thirty-one convicts in all. We were thirty-two, but
Milkliver Poppy took a header, and went for the land and the
lickspittle; if he lives he'll get his liberty for a reward. We were
bound from Hobart to Norfolk Island. You'll have heard of that