'I can't say which of you was to blame,' the commander went on, 'but I can't overlook your offence. However, it's the first time you've been up before me, so I'll let you off lightly. You'll have seven days No. 10;[ [21] and next time you want to fight anybody, or anybody wants to fight you, you let me know, and we'll provide you with boxing-gloves, and let you hammer each other on board during the dog watches. This man was bigger than you, eh?'
'Yessir.'
'Well, I'm glad to see you've got pluck, and that you gave him more than he gave you. That's all. Don't come up before me again, mind.'
'Seven days No. 10! 'Bout turn! Double march!' ordered the master-at-arms.
Pincher ran off, rather pleased with himself. It was the first time he had been a defaulter, and he had dreaded the ordeal; but he found the commander was quite human, after all. Moreover, he had expected to be punished far more severely for the affray; while the leave-breaking offence, for which he was liable to a mulet of one day's pay and stoppage of one day's leave, had been completely ignored. The fact of the matter was that the commander, though he took good care not to say so, sympathised with Pincher in his heart of hearts. He liked a man who stood up for himself, and when he had interviewed the other defaulters he called Tickle to his side.
'That fellow Martin of yours,' he said; 'he seems a plucky young devil for his age?'
'He is, sir,' the lieutenant agreed; 'quite a promising lad. I've had my eye on him for some time. He's got plenty of—er—guts too, sir. English tells me that fellow who went for him was double his size.'
'So much the better,' the senior officer grinned. 'I wish he had knocked him out.'
For the next week Pincher was undergoing the rigours of No. 10 punishment. He didn't like it at all. To start with, he had to turn out of his warm hammock at four-thirty A.M., had his meal-times cut down to the barest minimum, while all his spare time was taken up in rifle exercise, physical drill, or extra work of some kind. It was far too strenuous to be pleasant, particularly as his leave was stopped, and he could not go ashore. However, with Billings's assistance, he found time to write a letter to Emmeline, which the A.B. delivered.
'Dere Miss Figgins'—it ran—'i am in trubble, having got in the rattle for fighting Mister Parkin larst thursday night in Weymouth. i made his nose bleed agen, and bunged up one of his eyes. i got a black eye and a swollen mouth, and seven days No. 10 for my trubble; but i hopes to come ashore agen next sunday. i'm glad he got the wurst of it. Hoping this finds You as it leaves me—[It is to be hoped that Emmeline, also, had not got a black eye and a swollen mouth]—I remains, miss, your obedient servant,