Two days after was the Sabbath, and before divisions the commander and first lieutenant, accompanied by Surgeon Grant, walked round the ship and down below to inspect. As usual, those of the sick who could stand were drawn up in single file. Now, the skipper ought to have asked the surgeon, not the men, about their complaints, only Flint was still intent on bringing the doctor low.
"What's the matter with you, my man? And what is the surgeon giving you?"
"It is my business to answer that question, sir," said the surgeon angrily.
"I'm not talking to you, doctor."
Grant said nothing. He simply lifted his cap, wheeled about and walked on deck.
His flag wasn't down yet.
The war went on.
Next morning a boy was, by the captain's orders, introduced to the gunner's daughter for some trifling offence. This means that without being undressed, a boy is tied breast-downwards to a gun, and in this position receives a rope's-ending.
The doctor was walking the quarter-deck laughing and chatting with a messmate, when the commander advanced.
"Surgeon Grant," he said, "attend to that boy's flogging."