Chapter 33 - Page 2

avoided, or whether it is far sadder to
think that, either from constitutional hard-heartedness or the multiplied
searings of habit, hundreds of men-of-war's-men have been made proof
against the sense of degradation, pity, and shame.

As if in sympathy with the scene to be enacted, the sun, which the day
previous had merrily flashed upon the tin pan of the disconsolate Down
Easter, was now setting over the dreary waters, veiling itself in
vapours. The wind blew hoarsely in the cordage; the seas broke heavily
against the bows; and the frigate, staggering under whole top-sails,
strained as in agony on her way.

"_All hands witness punishment, ahoy!_"

At the summons the crew crowded round the main-mast; multitudes
eager to obtain a good place on the booms, to overlook the scene;
many laughing and chatting, others canvassing the case of the
culprits; some maintaining sad, anxious countenances, or carrying
a suppressed indignation in their eyes; a few purposely keeping
behind to avoid looking on; in short, among five hundred men,
there was every possible shade of character.

All the officers--midshipmen included--stood together in a group
on the starboard side of the main-mast; the First Lieutenant in
advance, and the surgeon, whose special duty it is to be present
at such times, standing close by his side.

Presently the Captain came forward from his cabin, and stood in
the centre of this solemn group, with a small paper in his hand.
That paper was the daily report of offences, regularly laid upon
his table every morning or evening, like the day's journal placed
by a bachelor's napkin at breakfast.

"Master-at-arms, bring up the prisoners," he said.

A few moments elapsed, during which the Captain, now clothed in
his most dreadful attributes, fixed his eyes severely upon the
crew, when suddenly a lane formed through the crowd of seamen,
and the prisoners advanced--the master-at-arms, rattan in hand,
on one side, and an armed marine on the other--and took up their
stations at the mast.

"You John, you Peter, you Mark, you Antone," said the Captain,
"were yesterday found fighting on the gun-deck. Have you anything
to say?"

Mark and Antone, two steady, middle-aged men, whom I had often
admired for their sobriety, replied that they did not strike the
first blow; that they had submitted to much before they had
yielded to their passions; but as they acknowledged that they had
at last defended themselves, their excuse was overruled.

John--a brutal bully, who, it seems, was the real author of the
disturbance--was about entering into a long extenuation, when he
was cut short by being made to confess, irrespective of