The time was wild with confusion and terror; the sailors continued to shout as they looked astern. Some of the children were yelling loudly with fright on the poop; sharp, harsh cries resounded from the main-deck, where I saw the doctor thrusting in amongst the convicts, whilst a few of the men whom he had appointed ‘captains’ appeared to be shoving and pushing and marshalling the prisoners so as to form them into some sort of marching order for the descent of the main hatch. Captain Sutherland came hastily forward to the rail and looked down upon the convicts. He then shouted to his chief mate, who was standing near a quarter-boat to windward. ‘Send all hands forward, Mr. Bates! Send all hands forward, sir! There’s nothing to be done!’ and he motioned significantly toward the main-deck. And, indeed, until the convicts were all in their quarters below, nothing was to have been done, for the seamen must have gone amongst them to haul and drag upon certain of the gear. At the foot of the mainmast, for example, were belayed many ropes, all belonging to the vast spread of sail stretching on high overhead, and this mast stood within the barricades. What might have happened had the sailors rushed in amongst the convicts to bring the ship to the wind? Captain Sutherland stood pale and still at the head of the poop-ladder; the ship’s company were streaming forward through the gangway galley, and when I quitted the poop in the tail of the procession of women and children, the captain, the officers, and the line of soldiers, who stood in a posture to instantly cover the convicts, alone remained on that deck. I stood in the recess along with Frank and some of the soldiers’ wives, waiting to see what was going to happen within the barricades. One of the convicts had been killed or stunned by the maniac, and lay as motionless as a log. The sentinel who had shot the man trudged the forecastle with frequent looks in the direction of the main-deck, as though prepared at any instant for a call to level his piece afresh. The women near me jabbered incessantly, and every tongue wagged in defence of Murphy, as they called the soldier. ‘God pity me!’ exclaimed Frank, looking at the woman. ‘But it vhas murder to shoot a madman.’ ‘Mind your own business!’ cried one of the women, angrily. ‘It’s the duty of a soldier to obey orders, and the orders of a sentry are to shoot down any convict who gets over the barricade and attempts to leave the ship. So there!’ she cried spitefully. I believe she was Murphy’s wife. ‘How was the sentry to know he was mad? If a soldier don’t obey orders he stands to be shot himself. So there.’ ‘It vhas murder,’ said Frank, and, smiting his thigh, he cried, ‘she makes my blood boil.’ ‘If you calls it murder again,’ said another of the women, ‘I’ll speak to the sergeant, and he shall talk to you. You’re a low German fellow, and us soldiers’ wives are not to be insulted by the likes of you.’