"Sir," said one of the boatswain's mates, "the ship's company say that they will not submit to be flogged."
"I do not speak to the ship's company generally, Collins," replied I; "but you are now ordered to rig the gratings, and come on deck. It is an order that you cannot refuse. Go up directly, and obey it. Quarter-masters, go on deck with your seizings. When all is ready, you can then expostulate." The men obeyed my orders; they crawled on deck, rigged the gratings, and stood by. "All is ready, sir," said I, touching my hat to the captain.
"Send the ship's company aft, Mr Paul."
"Aft, then, all of you, for punishment," cried the boatswain.
"Yes, it is all of us for punishment," cried one voice. "We're all to flog one another, and then pay off the jollies."[1]
This time the men obeyed the order; they all appeared on the quarter-deck. "The men are all aft, sir," reported the boatswain.
"And now, my lads," said the captain, "I'll teach you what mutiny is. You see the two frigates alongside of us. You had forgotten them, I suppose, but I hadn't. Here, you scoundrel, Mr Jones"—(this was the Joe Miller)—"strip, sir. If ever there was mischief in a ship, you are at the head."
"Head, sir," said the man, assuming a vacant look; "what head, sir? Do you mean the snake's head? I don't know anything about it, sir."— "Strip, sir!" cried the captain in a rage; "I'll soon bring you to your senses."
"If you please, your honour, what have I done to be tied up?" said the man.
"Strip, you scoundrel!"—"Well, sir, if you please, it's hard to be flogged for nothing." The man pulled off his clothes, and walked up to the grating. The quarter-masters seized him up.