“On behalf of the whole crew of this here ship—the Princess Royal—I charges Robert Arnold, late skipper of the same, with havin’ treated all hands before the mast in a most onjustifiable manner. As you’re fully aweer, shipmates, we was short-handed when we left London; and at Plymouth the men-o’-war robbed us of four of our best hands, makin’ us more short-handed still. Very well. Now what’s the dooty of a skipper to his crew under such sarcumstances as this here? Why, I say his dooty is to make things as easy as possible for ’em. Instead o’ which this here Robert Arnold, the prisoner as we’re tryin’, he goes and expects us to do as much work, and to do it as smartly, as if the ship was fully manned. And because we couldn’t do it—as it stands to reason we couldn’t—he goes and makes extra work for us by way of punishment; he robs us of our a’ternoon watch below; he stops our grog; he tyrannises over us in every imaginable way; he treats us like dogs and not like men, abusin’ and bullyin’ us, and goin’ out of his way to hurt our feelin’s; he refuses to listen to our just complaints; he encourages the first and second mates to sarve out to us the same sort of treatment as he gives us hisself, instead of takin’ our part and treatin’ us with justice; and he does all this not once in a way only, but from the very commencement of the v’yage. And, lastly, he orders a sick man to be flogged; laughs at the poor chap’s sufferin’s; and refuses to sarve out the necessaries to dress his wounds a’terwards. That, shipmates, is the charge I brings against Robert Arnold.”
“You hears the charge agin the prisoner, shipmates all?” observed Rogers, glancing round the table. “Ben Talbot brings this here charge in the name of all hands; so, if there’s any of yer as disagrees with what he’ve said, just stand up like men and say so.”
A profound silence followed, no man making the slightest sign or token of dissent. “Very well,” resumed Rogers; “nobody don’t seem to have anything to say agin the charge. Now, you that agrees with Talbot, and thinks as he’ve stated the case fairly, hold up y’ur hands.”
Every hand was at once and unhesitatingly raised at arm’s length.
“Unanermous,” pronounced Rogers. “Now, Robert Arnold, you’ve heard what’s been charged agin yer, and you’ve seen that all hands of us agrees that the charge is just. What have yer got to say in y’ur defence?”
“Nothing,” answered the captain; “except that I utterly disclaim your right to sit in judgment upon me or to criticise my actions in any manner whatsoever. Your conduct is in the last degree illegal and unjustifiable. You are a pack of mutinous scoundrels; and I warn you that a terrible punishment will surely overtake you if you persist in your defiance of my authority. If, however, you will return to your duty and deliver up to us, your duly appointed officers, the ringleaders in this disgraceful mutiny, I will undertake to overlook this most serious offence, so far as the rest of you are concerned.”
“You hear what the prisoner says, shipmates,” observed Rogers calmly. “Do you consider as he’ve made good his defence? Is it your opinion as he’ve justified hisself? Them as thinks he have, hold up their hands. Them as thinks he haven’t, stand up.”
The self-constituted judges with one accord rose to their feet.
“That’ll do; you may sit down agin,” remarked Rogers. “The prisoner is found guilty. The next question to be settled is the matter of punishment. Now, there’s a many ways of punishing a man, some on ’em more severe than others. The most severest as I knows is death; death by hangin’ from the yard-arm. Them as thinks the prisoner Arnold deservin’ of this punishment, hold up their hands.”
Two or three hands were hesitatingly raised, and, after a slight pause, lowered again.