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In the Bay, Coast Guard and police boats circled the island. A company of marines landed and mounted guard over the convicts herded into the yard. Johnston's guards contented themselves with firing rifle grenades through the windows of the cell block. Night shut down and The Rock's darkness was swept by searchlights, streaked by occasional tracer bullets.
The End. Warrant Officer Charles Buckner, Marine hero of the Pacific war, led a party to the roof of the cell block, drilled a hole and dropped grenades through. From inside came explosions, yells and rifle fire. Army planes dived over The Rock. The revolt was contained; Warden Johnston had only to wait for hunger and despair to end the whole affair. Some 45 hours after it began, it was over.
Inside block C, Bernard Coy lay in rigor mortis, his arms crooked as though holding a rifle. Two other convicts were dead: the killer, Cretzer; the kidnaper Hubbard. Shockley, Thompson, Carnes had crawled back into their cells.
A bleak-faced Warden Johnston walked through the dismal corridors. His charges sat on their bunks, some pretending to read, some staring through the bars, some jeering at him in defiance. One yelled: "Oh, Saltwater Johnston, are the streetcars still running in Frisco?"