'Prisoners, for'ard!' he cried. 'Back you go, or—by the Lord'——
'Prisoner?' I said. 'I am no prisoner. I am a passenger.'
'Passenger? Why, as for that, you are all passengers.'
'All? Who are these, then?'
He informed me with plainness of speech who and what they were—convicts taken from the prisons, branded in the hand, and sentenced to transportation.
'But I am a passenger,' I repeated. 'Mr. Penne hath paid for my passage to New England. He hath paid the Captain'——
'The ship is bound for Barbadoes, not New England. 'Tis my duty not to stir from this spot; but here's the Mate—tell him.'
This was a young man, armed, like the Captain, with pistols and sword.
'Sir,' I said, 'I am a passenger brought on board by Mr. Penne, by whom my passage hath been paid to New England.'
'By Mr. George Penne, you say?'