At this the audience, who had crowded into the court, cheered loudly.

Had we any defence? any witnesses? Of course we had none but ourselves.

Then the sentence of the court was pronounced. Captain Cochin was to be guillotined next morning. The rest of us were to be hanged in chains that afternoon, and our bodies left exposed to view for three days as a warning to pirates and traitors.

So ended our trial; and had it not been so tragic in its ending, I could have laughed at the farce of it.

We were marched back to our prison to spend the few hours that remained of our lives; and on the way our attention was directed by a friendly guard to a great gallows with accommodation on it for at least ten persons side by side. I only hoped, if it came to that, I might be in the first batch.

This time I was placed in a different cell from that I had occupied the night before. It was above ground, and lit by a larger window. Indeed, it was not intended to be used as a cell at all; but, as my jailer explained in a jocular way, he had so many guests that day that he was obliged to accommodate some of them in the soldiers’ quarters, and begged monsieur (that was I) would accept his excuses for not having made more elaborate preparations for his reception. In half-an-hour or so, he said, there would be more room. If monsieur could kindly wait till then, he should have an apartment suited to his dignity.

“Monsieur is too good,” said I in the politest French I could muster, thinking it wise to humour him; “but I should take it as a favour to be allowed to give up my apartment.”

“By no means,” said the other, slapping me on the back; “we cannot spare your company a moment before the time.—Meanwhile, make yourself at home, and receive the assurance of my profound esteem.”

“There is one favour I would beg, if I might be so bold,” said I. “In the short time left me I would like to write a letter to a friend.”

“If it is a lady friend,” said the Frenchman with a wink, “it might be allowed—provided she is fair, and I may have the honour of delivering it.”