Rotch kept silence. ‘Bates, Johnstone,’ continued Tom, ‘you see how it is? He swore it on the Bible. He made a felon of me. He ruined my life--broke my heart. He’s mute now. Observe him. Does he fear to speak because I’m armed?’ He whipped the pistol out of his pocket, pointed it down and fired it into the deck. ‘Now, take courage! Speak! Did I attempt to scuttle the _Arab Chief_, or was the charge yours and Nodder’s conspiracy against me?’ The man, with an ashen face, now folded his arms, but made no reply, keeping his eyes still rooted to the deck. ‘Captain Rotch,’ exclaimed Mr. Bates, ‘it’s clear to my mind--it’s been clear to me all through--that you’ve done this gentleman such a horrible wrong that no fiend could imagine anything worse or more cruel! Act the man now and own to it. Clear him, and by so doing sweeten your own conscience against that call which’ll be coming to you from God sooner or later. You’ll fare less ill by shelling out than by keeping silent. Look, man, how you are in our power!’ At these words Rotch lifted his eyes and gazed steadily at Tom. Never could I have imagined such an expression of hate in the human face. He gazed, then sank his eyes again, but never spoke. ‘Rotch, you shall have time,’ Tom said. ‘In this brig you remain till the confession you dictate has been signed by you and witnessed by those who are in the vessel. Time you shall have. Its duration Mr. Bates and I will settle. If at the expiration of the time I allow you refuse to prove me the innocent man you know me to be, then, by the Eternal God of heaven and justice, I’ll hang you at the yardarm!’ This said, he strode to the after end of the cabin, and opening the door of the last berth on the port side, he cried out, ‘Walk in here!’ Rotch raised his head and slowly looked around him. A wonderful change had happened in the man’s countenance. He was bloated and swollen. Parts of his face were livid, and parts a ghastly white. His eyes had a strained appearance and seemed to project. I once saw a man tumble down in a fit near my house at Stepney, and Rotch’s face reminded me of that man’s when they turned him over and lifted his head. ‘Walk into this berth!’ cried Tom. This time the villain obeyed. He moved slowly, supporting himself by the table as he went. He entered the little cabin, and Tom shut the door and locked it. ‘He’s as much astounded as frightened,’ said Bates. ‘Surely he’d have thought to meet any one down here sooner than you. Where would he reckon you are, Butler, if not across the seas? Not afloat and in charge of a smart little brig, anyhow.’ ‘Tom,’ said I, ‘he’ll hang rather than confess. He looked at you with a horribly malicious, wicked eye.’