And not far from this gloomy cabin was the cell in which the unhappy man was confined who next morning early should pay the penalty for his insubordination. Jack just caught one glimpse of his gray unhappy face, in which his dark eyes gleamed like living coals. That face haunted him in his dreams throughout the livelong night.
He saw that face again next morning, as the man was being taken to the ship to be hanged by his messmates. The same gray, cadaverous hue, the same dark and stony stare. “Had he a wife,” Jack wondered, “or a sister that loved and cared for him, or prattling children who would never see their sailor ‘daddy’ more?” Oh, the sadness of it!
The whole fleet witnessed that punishment from rigging and decks. Every precaution was taken to insure its being carried out. Captain Campbell of the Blenheim superintended. Launches armed with carronades were ranged near the Marlborough, and the orders they had were to open fire at once upon the rebellious ship if the men refused obedience, or dared to open a port, and, if need be, to sink her with all hands, in presence of the fleet.
But see! the trembling wretch stands out upon the cat-head, the awful rope around his neck. The end is rove through a block in the fore-yard arm, and taken down and round the deck, so that every man may help to pull.
Bang! A great gun is fired from the flagship. The sound thrills through every heart, and every eye is turned towards the Marlborough’s cat-head. The rope trembles, is tightened, and finally—there is an end.
The mutiny is nipped in the bud, and the fleet is saved.
But thus it must ever be. Mutiny is a monster that must be crushed by the iron heel of force, ere yet it is fully hatched.
Jack was not sorry when all was over and the boats returned to their respective ships. To relieve his mind he went to see Murray. The poor boy smiled feebly, and held out his white worn hand to clasp that of Jack.
“I’ve been thinking of home, and my little sweetheart, sir.”