"Then he was executed?"
"Yes; nothing could have saved him."
"Was he guilty, then?"
"It was as clear a case of piracy as I ever saw tried; the man confessed his guilt."
"Guilty! Death must be terrible in that case—very terrible!" said the old man, with a mournful shake of the head.
"He was a reckless fellow, full of wild glee to the last, but a coward, I do believe. I found his pillow wet almost every morning. The last month he kept a calendar of the days over his bed there, pencilled on the wall. The first thing every morning he would strike out a day with his finger; but if any one seemed to pity him, he frequently broke into a volley of curses, or jeered at sympathy that he did not want."
"Have you ever seen an innocent man executed?" said the prisoner, greatly disturbed by this account; "that is, a man who met death calmly, neither as a stoic, a bravo, or a coward?"
"I have no doubt innocent men have been executed again and again, all over the world; but I have never seen one die, knowing him to be such."
The officer went out after this, leaving the old man alone once more. His face was sad now, and he watched the closing door wistfully.
"Why should I seek other examples?" he said, at length. "Was not he executed innocently? Is it not enough to know how my Lord and Saviour died?"