VIII.

When all was now prepared, the vessel clear Which hailed her master in the mutineer, A seaman, less obdurate than his mates, Showed the vain pity which but irritates; Watched his late Chieftain with exploring eye, And told, in signs, repentant sympathy; Held the moist shaddock to his parched mouth, Which felt Exhaustion's deep and bitter drouth. But soon observed, this guardian was withdrawn, Nor further Mercy clouds Rebellion's dawn.[361] 150 Then forward stepped the bold and froward boy His Chief had cherished only to destroy, And, pointing to the helpless prow beneath, Exclaimed, "Depart at once! delay is death!" Yet then, even then, his feelings ceased not all: In that last moment could a word recall Remorse for the black deed as yet half done, And what he hid from many showed to one: When Bligh in stern reproach demanded where Was now his grateful sense of former care? 160 Where all his hopes to see his name aspire, And blazon Britain's thousand glories higher? His feverish lips thus broke their gloomy spell, "Tis that! 'tis that! I am in hell! in hell!"[362] No more he said; but urging to the bark His Chief, commits him to his fragile ark; These the sole accents from his tongue that fell, But volumes lurked below his fierce farewell.