‘I consider it as absolutely necessary for our safety. The fellow has even declared that if he gets another opportunity he will do the same deed over again. Is it safe then that he should live?’ ‘The sentence is just,’ said Fanny. ‘Courage, Fanny, all will soon be over.’ ‘Aye, but it is a fearful business. Lovell, do you realize it?’ ‘I do, indeed, but think we have decided for the best.’ Overcoming all her woman’s feelings, Fanny summoned her wonted spirit, and ordered the prisoner to be brought before her. He soon made his appearance, strongly bound, and led a couple of the crew. He was a noble specimen of a man in his physical formation. Of good height, broad and full across the chest, with heavy yet well formed limbs. His hair was short, black as jet, and curled closely to his head. He came in looking sullenly down upon the cabin floor, resembling a lion at bay, his huge, muscular form expanding with rage at the feeling of his bonds. He stood before the captain of the brig who sat in a large easy chair, while on either side stood Lovell and Herbert. It was a scene of strange and peculiar interest. There stood that huge Hercules of a man before that gentle hearted girl to be adjudged to death. Her deep soul seemed to be reading the prisoner’s inmost thoughts through the blue of her beautiful eye. Her voice did not tremble, her hand was firm, and she was a man at heart. The woman feeling which was so lately called into action in her breast, was banished, and nothing save stern justice might be expected to come from out those lips which displayed at that moment a decision of purpose and character which Lovell had never marked there before. ‘Prisoner,’ said Fanny, in her low musical tone of voice, and yet with singular distinctness, ‘do you know that my counsellors have decided upon your death at the yard arm, within this very hour?’ ‘I saw the whip rigged aloft, as I came along the deck,’ was the meaning reply of the prisoner. ‘Have you nothing to offer before we execute this resolve?’ ‘Nothing,’ said the man, his eyes still bent upon the floor. ‘It would seem most probable that a person about to lose his life would have some wish to express. If you have any, speak them, and if they be reasonable they shall be granted.’ ‘I have none,’ was the reply. ‘Prisoner,’ continued Fanny, ‘have you no wife, children, of friends?’ Here she was interrupted by a groan from the Englishman, that showed she had touched him upon a vulnerable point. ‘Speak, sir.’ ‘I have both wife and children,’ he said, without raising his head from his breast, while his broad manly chest heaved with visible emotion. ‘And you have no reward to leave for them, no wish to express before your execution?’ asked Fanny. ‘None! They will know that I died _loyal!_’ ‘You have offered threats against this vessel and us, a second time since your being again secured, I am told. Is this so?’