od with a smoking pistol in his hand at
his elbow. The two mates had both been seized by the crew, and the whole
business seemed to be settled.

"'The state-room was next the cabin, and we flocked in there and flopped
down on the settees, all speaking together, for we were just mad with
the feeling that we were free once more. There were lockers all round,
and Wilson, the sham chaplain, knocked one of them in, and pulled out a
dozen of brown sherry. We cracked off the necks of the bottles, poured
the stuff out into tumblers, and were just tossing them off, when in an
instant without warning there came the roar of muskets in our ears, and
the saloon was so full of smoke that we could not see across the table.
When it cleared again the place was a shambles. Wilson and eight others
were wriggling on the top of each other on the floor, and the blood and
the brown sherry on that table turn me sick now when I think of it. We
were so cowed by the sight that I think we should have given the job up
if it had not been for Prendergast. He bellowed like a bull and rushed
for the door with all that were left alive at his heels. Out we ran,
and there on the poop were the lieutenant and ten of his men. The swing
skylights above the saloon table had been a bit open, and they had fired
on us through the slit. We got on them before they could load, and they
stood to it like men; but we had the upper hand of them, and in five
minutes it was all over. My God! Was there ever a slaughter-house
like that ship! Prendergast was like a raging devil, and he picked the
soldiers up as if they had been children and threw them overboard alive
or dead. There was one sergeant that was horribly wounded and yet kept
on swimming for a surprising time, until some one in mercy blew out his
brains. When the fighting was over there was no one left of our enemies
except just the warders the mates, and the doctor.

"'It was over them that the great quarrel arose. There were many of us
who were glad enough to win back our freedom, and yet who had no wish
to have murder on our souls. It was one thing to knock the soldiers over
with their muskets in their hands, and it was another to stand by while
men were being killed in cold blood. Eight of us, five convicts and
three sailors, said that we would not see it done. But there was no
moving Prendergast and those who were with him. Our only chance of
safety lay in making a clean job of it, said he, and he would not l