Frank knew in a moment that he was the one designated. He claimed to be a gentleman and he wore a suit of black clothes—he was the only one on board who did—so he promptly answered to the summons. "Here, sir," said he.
When he reached the quarter-deck he removed his hat and waited for the captain to speak to him.
"So you know your name, do you?" exclaimed the skipper, gruffly.
"My name is Nelson, sir."
"But it suits me to call you Gentleman Black."
"Very—ay, ay, sir," replied Frank, who knew that he was expected to say something.
"Shoulder that handspike," continued the captain, pointing out the implement, "and march up and down the deck like a soger as you are. Carry it until you learn not to say 'very good' to me. What business is it of yours whether my orders are very good or very bad? I'll soon take them airs out of you."
Frank picked up the handspike, and placing it on his shoulder, began walking up and down the deck like a sentry on his beat. A landsman would have seen no significance in this punishment, but the sailors did, and the boatswain's mate and the coxswain (the latter had recovered his senses and gone to work with the rest) were highly indignant. A seaman regards it as an insult to be called a soldier. It implies that he is a "skulker"—that he shirks his duty.
This was the second time that Frank had been punished on board ship. His first offence, as we know, was committed while he was in the navy, on board the receiving ship. He spilled some water on deck, and was obliged to wipe it up and carry a swab about the vessel until he saw some one else doing the same thing. He might have carried that swab all day, had not Archie taken pity on him and effected his release. His jolly little cousin was not at hand to help him now. Frank was glad that he was far away, and in no danger of ever being placed in a situation like his own.