He was silent, breathed deeply, then his eyes lighted up with love, and he exclaimed in a low voice: ‘I swear it!’ ‘Would it be for you to divide us, Tom?’ He faintly smiled and answered: ‘You know me to be innocent, Marian.’ ‘Yes, as I am of that crime they have charged you with.’ ‘What do they say of me? What is thought?’ ‘Tom, what does it matter? You are innocent, and I love you.’ ‘My noble heart, God bless you. What does your uncle think?’ ‘Time’s up?’ cried a warder. ‘You have sworn it, Tom. Remember!‘ ‘I will write, dearest, I swear it, I will write.’ ‘Come, my man!’ shouted one of the guard. ‘Remember, Tom!’ I exclaimed. ‘I will write to you,’ were his last words. I stood watching him as he walked with the other convicts and the guard to the gangway gallery. The excitement and grief of this meeting worked like a fever in me. My breast was violently heaving, my eyes were dry and hot, as though full of fire, my lips parched as though pale and broken with thirst. I stepped over to the deputy-governor and said: ‘Will money help a man in this ship?’ ‘No, madam,’ said he shortly, eyeing me with a look of grave surprise. ‘I will send fifty pounds to you or the governor, and as much again when that money is spent, to furnish Thomas Butler with comforts outside the horrible prison fare.’ ‘Gently, madam. The prison fare is not so horrible as you think. Many get such food here as they never see out of jail and never get money enough to purchase after their discharge. Cocoa, bread, beef, soup--such food is not horrible. But the wealth of the Indies would not help your friend in this hulk.’ I bowed to him, dropped my veil, went to the side and entered the wherry. The waterman began to talk; to this moment I believe it was he and not his nephew who had been a convict. I kept my lips sealed, and the man sank into silence whilst he rowed steadily in the direction of Blackwall. When we turned a bend so as to get a sight of the docks, I spied the _Childe Harold_ lying athwart the stream, with her head close in to the dock entrance. The waterman looked at her and said he guessed she was hindered by some difficulty of the tide. Addressing the fellow for the first time, I bade him pull close under the stern of the ship, as I desired to hail her. I stared anxiously as we approached, thinking I might see Will Johnstone. A number of men were travelling round a capstan on the forecastle, and a hurricane chorus swept in regular pauses from their lungs as the pawls clanked to the thrust of the handspikes. A knot of people were gathered on the pier-head; a few figures walked the poop-deck. We pulled close under the stern of the ship where the water was sparkling in diamonds and trembling in gold to the windy flash and the ruddy gleam of the sun-touched windows and the gilt work, and on looking up I saw no less a person than my cousin Will himself in the act of handling the peak signal halliards to clear the ensign.