“You admit the crime, and you won’t punish it. I didn’t think you were a fool.”
Hartington drew his finger across his chin. “Why don’t you mete out a Service punishment yourself?”
“Beatin’ is the proper punishment for this kind of trash.”
“Trash? The poetry? It’s not that, Aggett.”
“That be as it may. I don’t care if he’s writin’ bloody Keats. What I care about is that a snotty should be a scribbler at all. The sooner he’s broken o’ that, the better for himself and everyone else.”
“You and I seem likely to disagree on every subject,” Hartington said. “But you haven’t answered my question: why not a Service punishment?”
“What?”
“Well, on the Upper Deck we give more watch-keeping.”
“They are keepin’ watch and watch already, as near as may be; you know that.”
“Yes,” said Hartington, “I knew that. It is difficult to punish them more than they are being punished already.”