is good father whom ye have spurned has stepped
in between yourselves and the laws which ye have offended. At his
command we withhold from ye the chastisement which ye have merited.
If ye can indeed pray, and if your soul-cursing conventicles have not
driven all grace out of ye, drop on your knees and offer up thanks when
I tell ye that he hath ordained that ye shall all have a free pardon.'
Here the Judge rose from his seat as though about to descend from the
tribunal, and we gazed upon each other in the utmost astonishment at
this most unlooked-for end to the trial. The soldiers and lawyers were
equally amazed, while a hum of joy and applause rose up from the few
country folk who had dared to venture within the accursed precincts.

'This pardon, however,' continued Jeffreys, turning round with a
malicious smile upon his face, 'is coupled with certain conditions and
limitations. Ye shall all be removed from here to Poole, in chains,
where ye shall find a vessel awaiting ye. With others ye shall be stowed
away in the hold of the said vessel, and conveyed at the King's expense
to the Plantations, there to be sold as slaves. God send ye masters who
will know by the free use of wood and leather to soften your stubborn
thoughts and incline your mind to better things.' He was again about to
withdraw, when one of the Crown lawyers whispered something across to
him.

'Well thought of, coz,' cried the Judge. 'I had forgot. Bring back the
prisoners, ushers! Perhaps ye think that by the Plantations I mean his
Majesty's American dominions. Unhappily, there are too many of your
breed in that part already. Ye would fall among friends who might
strengthen ye in your evil courses, and so risk your salvation. To send
ye there would be to add one brand to another and yet hope to put
out the fire. By the Plantations, therefore, I mean Barbadoes and the
Indies, where ye shall live with the other slaves, whose skins may be
blacker than yours, but I dare warrant that their souls are more white.'
With this concluding speech the trial ended, and we were led back
through the crowded streets to the prison from which we had been
brought. On either side of the street, as we passed, we could see
the limbs of former companions dangling in the wind, and their heads
grinning at us from the tops of poles and pikes. No savage country in
the heart of heathen Africa could have presented a more dreadful sight
than did the old English town of Taunton when