“Aft, then, all of you, for punishment,” cried the boatswain.
“Yes, it is all of us for punishment,” cried one voice. “We’ve all to flog one another, and then pay off the jollies.” (Note: Jollies is a slang word for Marines.)
This time the men obeyed the order; they all appeared on the quarterdeck.
“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 these 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 were 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.”