ed on the homeward voyage,
and a large number of the crew and some of the prisoners were drowned,
among whom was poor Stewart the midshipman. The remainder of the crew
were saved in the ship's boats, after performing a voyage which, as to
its length and the sufferings endured, rivals that previously made by
Bligh. Thereafter, on reaching England, the mutineers were tried by
court-martial; some were honourably acquitted, others were condemned to
death but afterwards pardoned, and ultimately only three were executed.

Among those who were condemned, but afterwards pardoned as being
unquestionably innocent, was Peter Heywood, whose admirable defence and
correspondence with his family, especially that between himself and his
charming sister Nessy, form a most interesting feature in the records of
the trial; but all this must be passed over in silence, while we resume
the thread of our story.

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Note. Part of this journal is quoted in an excellent account of the
_Mutineers of the Bounty_, by Lady Belcher.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE LONELY ISLAND SIGHTED.

It is pleasant to turn for a time from the dark doings of evil men to
the contemplation of innocent infancy.

We return to the _Bounty_, and solicit the reader's attention to a plump
brown ball which rolls about that vessel's deck, exhibiting a marked
tendency to gravitate towards the lee scuppers. This brown ball is
Sally, the Otaheitan infant.

Although brown, Sally's face is extremely pretty, by reason of the
regularity of her little features, the beauty of her little white teeth,
and the brilliancy of her large black eyes, to say nothing of her
luxuriant hair and the gleeful insolence of her sweet expression.

We cannot say how many, or rather how few, months old the child is, but,
as we have already remarked, she is a staggerer. That is to say, she
has begun to assert the independence of her little brown legs, and
progresses, even when on shore, with all the uncertainty of a drunken
woman. Of course, the ship's motion does not tend to remedy this
defect. Sally's chief delight is wallowing. No matter what part of the
ship's deck she may select for her operations--whether the scuppers, the
quarter-deck, or the forecastle--she lays her down straightway for a
luxurious wallow. If the spot be dirty, she wallows it clean; if it be
clean, she wallows it dirty. This might seem an awkward