In this while the sun was beyond north-west and reddening rapidly, and now whilst we listened to Mr. Bates the wind breezed up in a shrill puff that heeled the vessel and despatched Tom and the mate with a little run on deck. I took Nodder’s confession and stowed it carefully away along with Collins’s deposition. My heart was full of fire and rejoicing; I raged at the thought of Tom having been ruined by two such detestable, contemptible villains as Rotch and Nodder, and I exulted in knowing that it was now in our power to bring both men to justice whether Rotch confessed or not. Whilst they looked after the brig I prepared the evening repast in the galley. A little before six we sat down to supper. It was then blowing no more than a pleasant fresh wind; a long swell hurled the brig forward, and she drove along under a maintopgallant-sail, whitening out twice her breadth of water as she sped curtseying onwards. Tom, Bates, and I seated ourselves, Collins steered, and Will kept a look-out on the top of the house. I got ready a small tray of food for Rotch; Bates was carrying it to the fellow’s berth when Tom stopped him to say: ‘Tell him that Nodder’s confessed, but add little or nothing to that, Bates. Let the fact sink with him. Whilst we sup we’ll talk things over.’ The mate returned after a very short absence, and quietly took his place at table. ‘Did you tell him?’ said Tom. Bates answered, ‘Yes.’ ‘What did he say?’ ‘He eyed me with a wicked look and made no reply. His eyes have gone bloodshot and shine queerly. There’s a hardness in that chap’s countenance that makes me believe he’ll never shell out.’ ‘It will not matter,’ said I, ‘we have evidence enough. They’ll never refuse us a free pardon on what we have.’ ‘A free pardon!’ exclaimed Tom, looking at me. ‘Yes--certainly,’ said Mr. Bates, gravely cutting himself a piece of salt beef; ‘your innocence is already established; nothing to go through now but a sort of form which the lawyers will put you up to.’ ‘Uncle Johnstone will do everything for us,’ said I; ‘and, oh!’ I half shrieked, clapping my hands, ‘the joy I shall feel in seeing him read Nodder’s confession!’ Tom’s face was moody and dark. ‘I’ll not ask for nor would I accept a free pardon!’ he exclaimed. ‘For what am I to be pardoned, and what to me would be the particular virtue of a pardon?’ he added sarcastically. ‘When I sailed out of the Thames in a convict ship, I left England for ever. What could induce me to dwell in a land I abominate, among a people I detest?’ ‘A very natural prejudice, Butler,’ said Bates, ‘under the circumstances; but it will wear off.’ ‘Marian,’ said Tom, ‘whatever else I may do, whatever else may happen to me, I shall never again live in England.’ ‘Be it so, dear.’