of ripples and the drip of oars and the creak of wood gave
silence, "the black crime committed upon this spot shall no longer
go unpunished. The ocean itself has yielded its dark secret to the
perseverance of mankind, and the humble but not unskillful efforts which
it has been my privilege to conduct. A good man was slain here, in
cold blood slain--a man of remarkable capacity and zeal, gallantry,
discipline, and every noble quality, and the father of a very large
family. The villain who slew him would have slain six other harmless
men by perjury if an enlightened English jury had been fools enough to
believe him. Now I will show you what to believe. I am not eloquent, I
am not a man of words; my motto is strict business. And business with me
is a power, not a name. I lift my hand; you wait for half a minute; and
then, from the depths of this abyss, arises the gun used in the murder."

The men understood about half of this, being honest fellows in the main,
and desiring time to put heads together about the meaning; but one there
was who knew too well that his treacherous sin had found him out. He
strove to look like the rest, but felt that his eyes obeyed heart more
than brain; and then the widow, who had watched him closely through her
black veil, lifted it, and fixed her eyes on his. Deadly terror seized
him, and he wished that he had shot himself.

"Stand up, men," the commander shouted, "until we see the end of this.
The crime has been laid upon our force. We scorn the charge of such
treachery. Stand up, men, and face, like innocent men, whatever can be
shown against you."

The men stood up, and the light of the torches fell upon their faces.
All were pale with fear and wonder, but one was white as death itself.
Calling up his dogged courage, and that bitterness of malice which had
made him do the deed, and never yet repent of it, he stood as firmly as
the rest, but differed from them in three things. His face wore a smile;
he watched one place only; and his breath made a noise, while theirs was
held.

Then, from the water, without a word, or sign of any hand that moved
it, a long gun rose before John Cadman, and the butt was offered to his
hand. He stood with his arms at his sides, and could not lift them to
do anything. Neither could he speak, nor make defense, but stood like an
image that is fastened by the feet.

"Hand me that," cried the officer, sharply; but instead of obeying, the
man stared malignantly,