ere not likely to be let off.

So great was the agony of my mind that I thought I should go mad. At
last I dropped into a dreamy state, my great wish being that the day of
the trial should come on. Had I been called to suffer alone I should
not have complained, but it was the thought of the trouble, the distress
and sorrow it would be to Margaret and my uncle and aunt, to hear that I
had died an ignominious death at the yard-arm, assured though they might
be of my innocence, which caused me the greatest grief.

At last, on the 15th of December, several admirals and captains
assembled to hold a court-martial on board the _Culloden_, and we ten
men, accused of mutiny, were brought up for trial. It was quickly
proved that four of our number had been captured while attempting to
fire the guns behind the barricade, and that the whole of us had been
found below when the rest of the ship's company had returned to their
duty. We were asked singly what we could say for ourselves.

Trickett was the first who spoke. He pleaded that he had been led away
by others, that he did not know their object, and had no idea that
matters would have proceeded to extremities. "I wished to see my
shipmates righted, but I should have advised them, had they allowed me,
to employ only legal means. As a proof that I was not one of the
ringleaders, permit me to present this paper which came into my
possession, and which, as you will see, does not contain my name."

As he spoke, he produced a paper, and presented it to the President,
who, after glancing over it, read it aloud. It began, I remember, "We,
the undersigned, bind ourselves to hold fast to each other, and to take
all the means in our power to obtain our rights, and have our grievances
redressed; we resolve that no consideration shall hinder us, and that if
our petition is not listened to, we will take possession of the ship,
and carry her over to the French." The paper wound up with terrible
oaths, calling God to witness that nothing should make them give up
their object.

"I see by the names attached to this precious document," said the
President, "that they are all those of the prisoners on trial, with the
exception of that of the man who handed it in, which doesn't appear,"
and he slowly read out the names. Among the last was that of Pratt,
then came that of Reginald Berkeley, and lastly, to my horror and
dismay, was my own.

"I never signed that paper!" I exclaimed; "no