We may not go into the details of this celebrated trial, which lasted the greater part of the day, and was watched with intense eagerness by the entire population, including some of the older children, who had become impressed with the delightfully-horrible idea that a hanging or shooting, if not flaying and roasting, of some of the criminals would be the certain result. Suffice it to say that there was grievous irregularity in the proceedings: the public prosecutor not only proved the guilt of the men, but in the fervour of his indignation suggested the nature of their punishment; the jury not only listened to the facts of the case, but commented on them freely throughout, and, usurping the judge’s office, pronounced sentence on the criminals three or four times over; while the judge himself had the greatest possible difficulty in keeping anything like order all round.
The only man who performed his duty calmly was Redding, who, in a speech that quite surprised and transfixed the hearers, sought to point out that the men on trial had not actually committed the crime with which they had been charged, that of seizing the ship, but had only contemplated it, as had been alleged, though even that had not been clearly proved; that, supposing the crime to have been committed, it was a first offence, and that justice should always be tempered with mercy, as was taught in that best of all law-books, the Bible.
The pleading of this man had considerable effect, but it could not turn the tide of feeling in favour of the principal prisoners for more than one reason. They had been domineering, turbulent fellows all along; they had meditated a crime which would have robbed the settlers of many of the necessaries and all the luxuries of life, and this displayed a meanness of spirit which, they thought, deserved severe punishment.
Accordingly, after they had been pronounced guilty by the unanimous voice of the jury, and after the judge had consulted earnestly with some members of the privy council, Malines and Morris were condemned to a fortnight’s imprisonment on short allowance of the poorest food, and the other criminals to the same for a week.
When Malines had been seized and bound on board the ship, he had submitted, partly from prudence, and partly from a belief that the whole affair was a sort of half joke but when he found himself rebound, after the trial, and cast with his companions into a solid wooden building with a strong door and no window, which had been erected as a sort of fortress in which to put the women and children in case of attack by the savages, and there provided with maize and water for food and straw for bed, he began to realise the fact that he had indeed fallen into the hands of resolute men and under the power of law.
“I wouldn’t mind it so much if they’d only not cut off our baccy,” he groaned, on the afternoon of the following day, after a prolonged fit of sullen silence.
“After all it sarves us right,” growled Hugh Morris.
“Speak for yourself,” said Jabez Jenkins sulkily.
“That’s just what I do,” retorted Hugh.
“Hear, hear!” from some of the others.