Right here is the kernel of the case. Did Mr. Every pick the men who should go ashore if they wanted, or was that liberty given to any one? If Mr. Every picked out the people to go, then we who stayed were kept against our wills, and are innocent; if we could have gone and did not, then we are guilty. We had been acquitted on our first trial for piracy of the ship _Gunsway_, and I am talking now about our second trial, of which the theft of the _Charles the Second_ was made the charge. Hence the king must prove that we were parties to this latter crime. All the king’s evidence swore that any man might go who would,--except the doctor; all of us prisoners at the bar stuck to it that none could leave but by Mr. Every’s say-so. And whom did the king call? Creagh. This fellow was one who left the ship when the boat went away for shore. Was he therefore a good, an upright, an honorable man? If he had been, would he have associated himself afterward with Captain Vaughan and gone over to the king’s enemies with Vaughan’s ship, for which very crime he lies manacled with us? How truthful must he be! Gravet. He too went from our ship; but he was so busy at his going, begging Mr. Every to let him take his sea coffer and his clothes, that he had no means of marking much else that went on. How then did he find time to know so much about my deportment? Says he-- “When we had liberty to go out of the ship, this man May took me by the hand and wished me well home, and bid me remember him to his wife; and was very merry and jocund, and knew whither they were going.” Merry and jocund, and a knowing accomplice! What proof had he that I knew whither we were going? Who but Mr. Every and his ring knew that? Creagh and Gravet, these two are all that went to the matter of my part in the plot, and Creagh may be discounted for a born liar, trying to serve his ends in his pending treason trial by convicting honest men, while Gravet--even if he told the fact concerning our parting--offered no proof beyond his thin statement that I “knew whither they were going.” Yet when you get down to the bone, I was convicted and handed to the hangman on those five words. But, say some, how can you explain your being on a mutiny ship, stolen and making off for sea? I claim that Sam Parsons can bear me out touching Mr. Every and me, but Parsons is in Virginia; and there, for all the king cares, he may stay. Alas! My poor old commander, Captain Gibson, was lifted into the pinnace, where some seventeen or eighteen men were already gone, and who, when we had tossed them a bailing bucket they cried for, shoved off for town. Let me ask any man of fair mind this question: How could a hundred men, had they wanted, have gone off in a ship’s pinnace?