“Mr M—,” would the first-lieutenant cry out, “why did you stay so long on shore with the jolly-boat?”
“I went to the post-office for the officers’ letters, sir.”
“And pray, sir, who ordered you?”
“No one, sir; but I thought—”
“You thought, sir! How dare you think?—go up to the mast-head, sir.”
So much for thinking.
“Mr M—,” would he say at another time, when I came on board, “did you call at the admiral’s office?”
“No, sir; I had no orders. I didn’t think—”
“Then why didn’t you think, sir? Up to the mast-head, and stay there till I call you down.”
So much for not thinking. Like the fable of the wolf and the lamb, it was all the same; bleat as I pleased, my defence was useless, and I could not avert my barbarous doom.