The court is opened, and officers and men indiscriminately stand round.  The prisoners are now brought in under the charge of the provost-marshal, a master-at-arms, with his sword drawn, and placed at the foot of the table, on the left hand of the judge-advocate.  The court is sworn to do its duty impartially, and if there is any doubt, to let it go in favour of the prisoner.  Having done this, the members sit down, covered if they please.

The judge-advocate is then sworn, and the order for the court-martial read.  The prisoner is put on his trial; if he says anything to commit himself, the court stops him, and kindly observes, “We do not want your evidence against yourself; we want only to know what others can prove against you.”  The unfortunate man is offered any assistance he may require; and when the defence is over, the court is cleared, the doors are shut, and the minutes, which have been taken down by the judge-advocate, are carefully read over, the credibility of the witnesses weighed, and the president puts the question to the youngest member first, “Proved, or not proved?”

All having given their answer, if seven are in favour of proved, and six against, proved is recorded.  The next question—­if for mutiny or desertion, or other capital crime—­“Flogging or death?” The votes are given in the same way; if the majority be for death, the judge-advocate writes the sentence, and it is signed by all the members, according to seniority, beginning with the president and ending with the judge-advocate.  The court is now opened again, the prisoner brought in, and an awful and deep silence prevails.  The members of the court all put their hats on, and are seated; every one else, except the provost-marshal is uncovered.  As soon as the judge-advocate has read the sentence, the prisoners are delivered to the custody of the provost-marshal, by a warrant from the president, and he has charge of them till the time for the execution of the sentence.

About three o’clock in the afternoon, I received a message from one of the prisoners, saying, he wished much to speak with me.  I followed the master-at-arms down to the screened cabin, in the gun-room, where the men were confined with their legs in irons.  These irons consist of one long bar and a set of shackles.  The shackles fit the small part of the leg, just above the ankle; and, having an eye on each end of them, they receive the leg.  The end of the bar is then passed through, and secured with a padlock.  I found the poor fellows sitting on a shot-box.  Their little meal lay before them untouched; one of them cried bitterly; the other, a man of the name of Strange, possessed a great deal of equanimity, although evidently deeply affected.  This man had been pretty well educated in youth, but having taken a wild and indolent turn, had got into mischief, and to save himself from a severe chastisement, had run away from his friends, and entered on board a man-of-war.  In this situation he had found time, in the intervals of duty, to read and to think; he became, in time, sullen, and separated himself from the occasional merriment of his messmates; and it is not improbable that this moody temper had given rise to the mutinous acts for which he was to suffer.