"Come nearer, so that I can see you," said Moody. And when Scudamore approached near enough for him to reach him with his foot, he gave him such a kick that he nearly fell over backward.
"Men!" shouted Barthelemy, "bring me the cat o' nine tails. Give this man thirty blows on the back. Whoever disobeys me must suffer for it."
The nine-lashed scourge was instantly brought. "To work at once!" Barthelemy commanded. "No one is exempt from punishment."
Moody's eyes fairly started from their sockets with rage, and when the man bearing the cat o' nine tails approached him, he began to throw himself frantically to the right and left, but thereby only caused the blows to fall on him haphazard, till at last one knocked the pipe from his mouth.
Barthelemy coolly awaited the end of the punishment, and then called Scudamore to write his name in the list of pirates. Scudamore seized the pen with eager joy, and wrote his signature with such horrible glee that even the robbers were startled, and then, turning to Captain Rolls, exclaimed scornfully:
"When you reach London, inform the government of my new occupation."
Skyrme laid his huge hand on his shoulder and muttered between his teeth: "You scoundrel, you'll make a first-class devil."
"At least as good as any of you."
From that moment, Scudamore felt perfectly at home in his new sphere, looking at the list with his name enrolled as if it were some diabolical patent of nobility, and eyeing Captain Rolls with the air of a newly appointed official surveying his former comrades.
"Now, Captain Rolls," said Barthelemy, "you can take possession of your ship. But that we may not leave our mate here in exchange for your doctor, loose Moody from the mast."