Captain Wilson, as soon as our hero disappeared, laughed heartily, and told Mr. Sawbridge “he had ascribed his language to our hero as all zeal.—He has very cleverly given me it all back again; and really, Sawbridge, as it proves how weak was my defence of you, you may gain from this lesson.”

Sawbridge thought so too—but both agreed that Jack’s rights of man were in considerable danger.

The day before the ship sailed, the Captain and Mr. Asper dined with the governor, and as there was little more to do, Mr. Sawbridge, who had not quitted the ship since she had been in port, and had some few purchases to make, left her in the afternoon in the charge of Mr. Smallsole, the master. Now, as we have observed, he was Jack’s inveterate enemy; indeed Jack had already made three—Mr. Smallsole, Mr. Biggs, the boatswain, and Easthupp, the purser’s steward. Mr. Smallsole was glad to be left in command, as he hoped to have an opportunity of punishing our hero, who certainly laid himself not a little open to it.

Like all those who are seldom in command, the master was proportionally tyrannical and abusive—he swore at the men, made them do the duty twice and thrice over, on the pretence that it was not smartly done, and found fault with every officer remaining on board.

“Mr. Biggs—by God, sir, you seem to be all asleep forward; I suppose you think that you are to do nothing, now the first—lieutenant is out of the ship? How long will it be, sir, before you are ready to sway away?”

“By de holy poker, I tink he sway away finely, Massa Easy,” observed Mesty, who was in converse with our hero on the forecastle.

Mr. Smallsole’s violence made Mr. Biggs violent, which made the boatswain’s mate violent—and the captain of the forecastle violent also; all which is practically exemplified by philosophy in the laws of motion, communicated from one body to another: and as Mr. Smallsole swore, so did the boatswain swear—also the boatswain’s mate, the captain of the forecastle, and all the men; showing the force of example.

Mr. Smallsole came forward—“Damnation, Mr. Biggs, what the devil are you about? can’t you move here?”

“As much as we can, sir,” replied the boatswain, “lumbered as the forecastle is with idlers;”—and here Mr. Biggs looked at our hero and Mesty, who were standing against the bulwark.

“What are you doing here, sir?” cried Mr. Smallsole to our hero.

“Nothing at all, sir,” replied Jack.

“Then I’ll give you something to do, sir.—Go up to the mast—head, and wait there till I call you down. Come, sir, I’ll show you the way,” continued the master, walking aft. Jack followed till they were on the quarter— deck.

“Now, sir, up to the main—top gallant mast—head; perch yourself upon the cross trees—up with you.”

“What am I to go up there for, sir?” inquired Jack.

“For punishment, sir,” replied the master.

“What have I done, sir?”

“No reply, sir—up with you.”

“If you please, sir,” replied Jack, “I should wish to argue this point a little.”

“Argue the point,” roared Mr. Smallsole—“By Jove, I’ll teach you to argue the point—away with you, sir.”