Collins exclaimed: ‘If you’re seeking Mr. Bates, he’s in the forecastle.’ I paced up and down in what is called the gangway between the deck-house front and caboose, and still, as I turned my back on the fore part of the brig, I’d for ever be looking behind me toward the fore hatch, through which Mr. Bates must emerge. Saving that time that I waited for the decision of the jury in the Old Bailey, I had never suffered such agony of suspense. Was Nodder dictating to Mr. Bates at this instant? If so, what was he saying? Convicting himself and Rotch of as shocking a perjury as any in the criminal records, or declaring that the evidence he and the other had given was true? Would the sullen, drunken, dying animal dictate at all when Bates sat beside him ready to write? These were distracting thoughts, and I walked the deck like one distraught. I did not want to see Mr. Bates too soon; I dreaded his emergence, for that would signify the villain had fallen stubborn and mute, and yet my impatience was an anguish; again and again I’d stop in the cabin-doorway to look at the clock. Collins, who could see the time through the window, exclaimed: ‘It’s after four. Will Mr. Johnstone relieve me?’ ‘Wait for Mr. Bates,’ said I; and I started off afresh on my gangway march. At last, on a sudden, I saw Mr. Bates’s face in the hatch; he gravely motioned me to approach; when I had drawn near he said: ‘It’s all right; I have it down. It’s a complete acquittal. What a piece of villainy! Pray run aft now, put Captain Butler to the wheel, and bring Johnstone and Collins into the forecastle to hear what’s been written, to witness Nodder’s signature, and to sign their own names.’ I sped to the cabin and ran breathless into Tom’s berth. I put my hand upon his shoulder and shook him violently. He opened his eyes and instantly started up, collecting his wits with the nimble dexterity of one used to instant and urgent calls. ‘Nodder has confessed!’ I cried. ‘Bates has it down in writing; he wants Will and me and Collins in the forecastle as witnesses. Jump up and take the wheel whilst I call Will.’ Before the words were fairly off my lips he was out of his bunk, pulling on his coat. I rushed to Will’s cabin and dragged the dear boy half out of bed in my eagerness to awaken and get him forward quickly. His berth was next to Rotch’s; the bulkhead between was stout, but a voice exerted strongly was easily to be heard through the partition. I cried out in loud, clear tones that Nodder had confessed Tom’s innocence, that Mr. Bates had taken his statement down in writing, and that he (Will) was instantly required in the forecastle.