“As I neither intend to allow you money or liberty,” he replied, “I have taken charge of your wardrobe.” I remember the words as well as if spoken yesterday, and I told him that he could put me in irons again, for work I would not. Probably this was pot-valiant on my part, but I had had a good drink of water. Moreover, I knew the letters that box contained, and also guessed that their destination would be--the father of the girl who wrote them, so I went back _solus_ to my irons in the after cabin. The others had had enough of the treatment to satisfy their longings for martyrdom, ardent though these had been. With me, however, it was entirely different. I had been hurt in more ways than one, and much as I hated the idea of deserting I resolved that no power should make me risk the passage home in that ship if I could do otherwise. As I meditated I saw through the stern port the steward sculling the dingy on shore, and that gave me an idea. The ship was in the stream, possibly a hundred yards from the shore. I got the irons in front of me, slipped on deck through the skylight unseen by any one on board, threw the vang fall over the side, slid down it, and struck out for the shore. Although, manacled as I was, I could not swim in the ordinary way, I could paddle, and at times turn over on my back for a rest. Not a soul lent me a hand or interfered until I got to the landing-stage, where I was promptly arrested by a constable and marched up to the police station. The police superintendent, as it happened, was imbued with an idea of fair play. He released me from the irons and told me what I should have to do. By this time my clothes had got fairly dry, I was sitting quietly wondering what would happen next when in came Captain Hole. “Take that fellow into custody,” he said, directly he caught sight of me, “for being absent from his ship without leave.” I subsequently learnt that he had called at his lawyers’ on the way up and they had suggested this course as a “try on.” It did not work, however. The superintendent declined, saying that I had come to him for protection and he would see that I got it, and on this the old man retired very crestfallen. The outcome was that I was granted a summons for assault, and the captain had to appear before the magistrates next day. I cannot at the moment of writing find the record of the police court proceedings, but anyhow the skipper was fined for the assault, as it was called, on the three of us, and was ordered to give up my property. We, on our side, had to return to our duties. The name of the lawyer who represented us was Edmunds, and I recollect well how he painted the terror we must be in (at which we grinned comprehensively) when one could risk life by venturing into the water with irons on.