the yard airless and chokingly hot. On a visit to the island in 1791, Anna Maria Falconbridge had strolled to the windows of Bance Island House, as the fortress was then called, and looked down into this enclosure from the cool upper room where she was about to enjoy dinner.
Involuntarily I strolled to one of the windows a little before dinner, without the smallest suspicion of what I was to see;—judge then what my astonishment and feelings were, at the sight of between two hundred and three hundred wretched victims, chained and parceled out in circles, just satisfying the cravings of nature from a trough of rice placed in the centre of each circle.
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