from advancing towards the table occupied by the counsel and
solicitors, and asking permission of the bench to give my valuable
assistance to the prisoner. This being graciously accorded, the
mate, with a most doleful countenance, and a very unassured voice,
made answer to the plain interrogative of the Clerk of Arraigns --
"Not guilty, my Lord."

Whilst the prosecutor was being examined by the Advocate General, I
conned over the indictment with a meditative countenance, but without
being able to see my way in the least. The captain, scowling
atrociously at me and my persecuted friend, gave his evidence with
the bitterest animosity. He proved his losses, and the facts of the
store-room door having been broken open, and the prisoner and most of
the sailors being found drunk by him on his repairing one evening to
the vessel. It now became my turn to ask questions, as

Prisoner's Counsel. Your ship, Captain W., is commonly called a
Temperance ship, is it not?

Captain (after a ferocious stare). I should think you knew that.

P. Counsel. And being a temperance ship, you do not allow the men,
at any time, any other liquor than water?

Captain. No.

P. Counsel. In temperance ships, I suppose it sometimes happens that
the men contrive to buy liquor for themselves?

Captain (looking like a bull about to charge a matadore). Boo!