“Very well,” assented Rogers, “bring him along, too, mates; I intended to take him by hisself, but it don’t matter; bring the whole four of ’em.”
In a few minutes Captain Arnold, Nicholls the chief mate, and Thomson the second mate, with Lieutenant Walford, were ushered into the saloon, handcuffed, and guarded by eight armed mutineers.
“The prisoners is before the court,” announced Talbot, in a loud voice, anxious to make the proceedings partake as much of the character of a ceremonial as possible.
The four men were then ordered to range themselves in line at the foot of the table, an order which, after a little hesitation, they sullenly obeyed.
Meanwhile, the mutineers, having been served with tobacco and brandy, had lighted their pipes and provided themselves, each man, with a stiff rummer of grog. A cursory observer would possibly have thought the scene grotesque; but the four men ranged at the foot of the table speedily detected in the countenances of their self-constituted judges, an expression of stern determination which caused their hearts to sink and their cheeks to blanch with sudden fear.
A low-toned consultation now ensued between Rogers and those nearest him, in which Talbot was summoned to take part. At its conclusion the latter withdrew a little apart, and Rogers, turning to the captain, said—
“Robert Arnold, yours is the first case. Who is the prosecutor?”
“I am,” answered Talbot, “on behalf of the whole crew.”
“Very good,” acquiesced Rogers. “Benjamin Talbot, state y’ur case.”
Upon this, Talbot stepped up to the cabin-table and said—