I heard the commander of the ship address the doctor, who called to the captains of the division to march the prisoners below; and he added that the last of the divisions could not be brought up, as sail was to be reduced and room was wanted. Moreover, in a very short time the moon would have vanished. Now followed a lively time. The prisoners’ inclosure being clear, Mr. Bates, at the head of the poop-ladder, began to shout out orders; all hands were on deck and all hands were wanted. ‘Clew up the royals and furl them! Down flying and outer jibs and topgallant staysails! Clew up topgallant sails and furl them! Main-clewgarnets and let the sail hang!’ So ran the orders; the lightning played upon the figures of the seamen as they trotted aloft; the moon turned a watery, silvery, oozing, draining through the film of the advanced shadow of the storm, then vanished behind a jagged peak of cloud, and the night-dye sank upon the ocean in deepest shadow, the deeper for the play of the lightning; after each flash the blackness thrilled with the blindness of the vision. The women came off the forecastle, and I entered the cuddy. The steward told me to turn up the lights, and Captain Barrett and Lieutenant Chimmo, descending the companion-steps at that moment, called for brandy and seltzer, which I procured for them. The steward bade me be at hand; if there was a gale of wind in the storm, I, with the rest of the ‘idlers,’ would be wanted. I hung about in the recess, and all the time I wondered whether the convicts would rise in the morning, whether their friends amongst the crew were to be depended upon; whether this storm of thunder and lightning would work a change in the prisoners’ intentions by terrifying them; and I also strove to imagine the programme that had been concerted, what part the confederate seamen were to play; whether the guard would find time to arm and turn out, and if so, whether the uprising would not be suppressed by their coolness and discipline and by the support of the loyal part of the crew.