And then he related the story of the accusation, and described what had passed at Bow Street on the preceding day.
Supper was served, and the presence of the servant held us silent. I could not look at the food I was helped to, and was passionately craving for the servant to be gone that I might question my uncle. Then, when the opportunity came, I said to him:
‘Is scuttling a ship a serious crime?’
‘One of the most serious.’
I trembled and said:
‘What is the punishment for it?’
He was silent, as though he did not or would not hear. I sprang up and shrieked out:
‘Uncle, is it hanging?’
‘It would have been hanging two or three years ago,’ said he. ‘Thank God, it is no longer a capital crime.’
‘What can they do to Tom?’ I cried.