had been repeatedly flogged for violence and
insubordination, and how he was now double-ironed at Port Arthur,
after two more ineffectual attempts to regain his freedom. Indeed, the
Gazette, discovering that the wretch had been originally transported for
highway robbery, argued very ably it would be far better to hang such
wild beasts in the first instance than suffer them to cumber the ground,
and grow confirmed in villainy. "Of what use to society," asked the
Gazette, quite pathetically, "has this scoundrel been during the last
eleven years?" And everybody agreed that he had been of no use whatever.

Miss Sylvia Vickers also received an additional share of public
attention. Her romantic rescue by the heroic Frere, who was shortly to
reap the reward of his devotion in the good old fashion, made her almost
as famous as the villain Dawes, or his confederate monster John Rex. It
was reported that she was to give evidence on the trial, together with
her affianced husband, they being the only two living witnesses who
could speak to the facts of the mutiny. It was reported also that her
lover was naturally most anxious that she should not give evidence, as
she was--an additional point of romantic interest--affected deeply by
the illness consequent on the suffering she had undergone, and in a
state of pitiable mental confusion as to the whole business. These
reports caused the Court, on the day of the trial, to be crowded with
spectators; and as the various particulars of the marvellous history of
this double escape were detailed, the excitement grew more intense. The
aspect of the four heavily-ironed prisoners caused a sensation which,
in that city of the ironed, was quite novel, and bets were offered and
taken as to the line of defence which they would adopt. At first it
was thought that they would throw themselves on the mercy of the Crown,
seeking, in the very extravagance of their story, to excite public
sympathy; but a little study of the demeanour of the chief prisoner,
John Rex, dispelled that conjecture. Calm, placid, and defiant, he
seemed prepared to accept his fate, or to meet his accusers with some
plea which should be sufficient to secure his acquittal on the capital
charge. Only when he heard the indictment, setting forth that he had
"feloniously pirated the brig Osprey," he smiled a little.

Mr. Meekin, sitting in the body of the Court, felt his religious
prejudices sadly shocked by that smile. "A perfect wild