'Twas a bleak day in December when we sailed into Plymouth Sound.
As soon as we had spoken the port a boat put off hearing a paper
sealed with the seal of Prince George, the Lord High Admiral. And
there fell to my captain a duty which sure no man could have
performed without compunction. I was truly thankful no such
dreadful task was ever mine. The prince ordered that the sentence
of the court martial should be executed upon those two unhappy
captains, Kirkby and Wade, on the deck of the vessel, with a full
muster of the crew. When they were drawn up in lines according to
rank, the whole ship's company, from the lieutenants and master's
mates down to the grommet and the boy; the captain, pale as death
but in a firm voice, gave the word of command at which, with one
volley of muskets, the souls of those two cravens and traitors were
sped into eternity. Their crimes were flagrant, the sentence was
most just; but I hope and pray no Englishman will ever do the like
again.
The same papers contained news of a more agreeable nature.
Considering the high terms in which Mr. Benbow had spoken of
Captains Fogg and Vincent, and the recommendation he made on their
behalf, the prince was pleased to command that the sentence of
suspension should be remitted, and that they should be again
employed in the Queen's service. I was sorry that I could not be
present when this good news was conveyed to them; they had remained
in Jamaica, and did not learn of the prince's clemency for several
months.
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