Seventeen months of prison, for a man accustomed to the sea air, to a sailor’s independence, to space, immensity, infinity! Monsieur, seventeen months of prison is more than enough punishment for all the crimes reviled by the most odious names known to the tongues of men. Have pity on me, Monsieur, and beg for me, not indulgence, but firmness; not a pardon, but a verdict. A judge, Monsieur, I ask only for a judge: an accused man cannot be refused a judge.’
“Seventeen months’ captivity to a sailor accustomed to the boundless ocean is a worse punishment than human crime ever merited. Have pity on me, then, and ask for me, not indulgence, but a trial— let me know my crime in my sentence, for incertitude is worse than all.”
