‘The terms of the confession shall provide against that, and every man in this ship shall witness it. Let them confess; I’ll take my chance of what may follow.’ ‘Will Rotch and the other be free here, Tom?’ I asked. ‘No.’ ‘Then we remain short-handed as before?’ said Will. ‘There’s a seaman along with the two--you’ve forgotten him,’ exclaimed Tom. ‘He’ll make four, and Marian five.’ ‘Where do you propose to head when you start?’ exclaimed the mate. ‘North, Bates; I can’t keep you and young Johnstone at sea. Not likely! You’ll help me to work the brig as far as Soundings; then go ashore in whatever will take you, along with the yarn that we’ll manufacture before that time.’ ‘What’ll you do?’ said the mate. ‘Oh, keep the sea--keep the sea until Rotch and Nodder confess. Eh, Marian? This brig’s a tight little home for us, as safe a retreat in its way as the island, helping us to such an issue of truth or justice or retribution as we should never be able to work out in Glass’s settlement. Eh, my brave girl? As lief be here as on a rock; and then the delights of a devil’s cruise with our two Old Bailey witnesses under hatches! Why ’twould be like one of our old river and suburban jaunts--so pretty and lively that we may grieve when the rogues’ confession ends it.’ ‘We’ll take Miss Johnstone ashore with us,’ said Bates, ‘when the time comes for us to go.’ I looked at him with a frown; Tom’s eye was upon me, and he laughed, but with little merriment. ‘You and Marian’ll never handle this brig alone,’ said Will. Tom was looking at me, and pretended not to hear him. Bates left the table to see that all was right with the little vessel. By the time he returned Tom’s mood had changed. He spoke quietly, and without the least temper, of the morrow’s arrangements. It was dark by the time the talk had ended. I lighted the cabin lamp, Will the binnacle lamp, and Tom and Bates walked the roof of the deck-house in earnest talk. Will beckoned me out of the cabin to where he was standing, near the wheel, and said softly: ‘Marian, beware of Tom; he’s been driven mad.’ ‘No more mad than you are,’ said I. ‘What does he mean by talking of swinging the two men?’ ‘I’ll help him if he asks me,’ said I. ‘And be hanged. This is what comes of following a convict’s fortune. He speaks of himself as a devil. He talks like one, anyhow. Worst of all, he’s making you one. There shall be no hanging if I’m here to stop it, though Butler should pistol me for interfering.’ ‘You’re excited, and I’ll not talk with you.’ ‘Mustn’t he be mad,’ he exclaimed, careful, however, to keep his voice sunk, ‘to threaten to sail about with you alone in this brig till the fellows under hatches, as he calls it, confess? Suppose they make up their minds to see which will tire first? Besides, how are two of you to sail a brig of this bulk? Why, his island scheme was beautiful sanity alongside this last bit of roaring madness.’