"But as my principal object is to make you acquainted with Frederic Hamilton, and not with my adventures, I will say no more about Captain Simmons, and his ship, than is necessary in the course of my tale.
"I was just getting over the unpleasant sensations of sea-sickness, when, one morning as I was dressing in my berth, a noise of scuffling on the quarter-deck, over my head, interrupted my operations. I laid my brush on the table, and listened. At first I could distinguish nothing, and, thinking it was the captain and a sailor disputing, I continued my toilet; when, suddenly, a piercing cry reached me, and I knew the voice to be Frederic's. At the same time the sound of heavy blows fell on my ear, and again I recognized his voice: he called out so loudly, that I heard him distinctly say, 'Oh, sir! have mercy. Pray, pray do not kill me! Oh, sir! think of my mother, and have pity upon me. I will try to please you, sir; indeed, indeed, I will. Oh, mercy! mercy!' His cries became fainter and fainter, while the blows continued, accompanied occasionally by the gruff voice of the captain, until, my soul shrinking with horror, I could endure it no longer. I rushed out of my cabin, and there on the poop beheld a sight I can never forget. Poor Frederic was lashed to the shrouds with his hands above his head, which was then drooping on his shoulder; his back bare and bleeding. The brutal captain was standing by with a thick rope in his grasp, which, by the crimson stains upon it, sufficiently proved the vile purpose for which its services had just been required.
"I called out hastily and angrily to the captain to cease beating the boy, and declared I would fetch out the gentlemen to interfere if he did not stop his unmanly behavior. He glared on me with the fiercest expression imaginable (for he was in a towering rage,) and told me I had better not meddle with him in the performance of his duty, for he would do as he liked; he was master of the ship and nobody else, and he would like to see anybody else try to be. Then he made use of such fearful language, that I dreaded to approach him; but my fear lest he should again attack the boy, overcame my fear for him in his anger; and I ascended the ladder. He desired, nay commanded, me to retire to my cabin; but I said, 'No, captain, I will not stir hence until you release Frederic, and if you strike him again I will be a witness of your cowardly behavior towards a poor boy whose only fault is want of strength to do the work assigned him. I am quite sure, whatever you may say on board-ship, you will not be able to justify your conduct on shore.'
"He did not again address me; but, muttering curses loud and deep, he untied the fainting boy, and, giving him a savage push, laid him prostrate on the deck: he then walked forward, and began to shout aloud his orders to the men on the main-deck.
"The man at the helm, pitying the poor boy, called to the boatswain, who was standing on the forecastle, and begged him to send some water to throw over the lad, and some dressing for his wounded back. I stayed by him for a short time, and when he was somewhat recovered, I went below.
"I fancied, when I met the captain at the dinner-table, that he looked rather ashamed; for I had related the whole affair to the other passengers, and he could perceive, by their indifference towards him, that they despised him for his cowardice. He tried to be jocular, but could not succeed in exciting our risibility: we did not even encourage his jokes by the shadow of a smile, and he seemed uneasy during the remainder of the time we sat at table.
"I now felt more than ever interested in the fate of Frederic Hamilton and was not sorry I had said so much in the morning. Prudence might have dictated milder language certainly; but my indignation was aroused; and when I found that my remonstrance had the desired effect, I did not repent of my impetuosity.
"About a week after this unhappy occurrence, as I was leaning over the rail on the quarter-deck, watching the shoals of porpoises (for we were then in a warm latitude) playing in the bright blue sea at the vessel's side, the boatswain, who was a fine specimen of a sea-faring man, came up and, seating himself on a fowl-coop near me, commenced sorting rope-yarns for the men to spin. Presently Frederic walked up the ladder with a bucket of water to pour into the troughs for the thirsty poultry, who were stretching their necks through the bars and opening their bills, longing for the refreshing draught: the heat was overpowering, and the poor things were closely packed in their miserable coops.
"I remarked to Williams how pale the boy looked, and how thin, and said, I feared he was not only badly treated, but had not proper nourishment.
"'Why, ma'am,' said he, 'to say the truth, the lad's not been used to this kind of living, and it was the worst thing as ever happened to him to be brought on board the "Neptune," with our skipper for a master. You see, madam,' he continued, 'his father was a parson; but he is dead, and the mother tried hard to persuade the lad (for, poor thing, he is her only boy,) to turn parson too, when his father died. But no. The boy had set his mind on going to sea; and as he had no friends who could help him to go to school or college, and his godfather, Captain Hartly, offered to pay the apprenticeship fees if his mother would let him learn navigation, she at last, though much against her will, consented that he should be bound apprentice to our skipper here. But it pretty nigh broke her heart to part with the child; and she begged the captain to use him gently and bear with him a little, for he was not so hardy as many boys of his age; and, moreover, had been accustomed to kindness and delicate treatment. The lad is a fine noble-hearted lad, but he is not strong; and it is my opinion that the master wants to get rid of him to have the fee for nothing, and he's trying what hard living, hard work, and hard usage will do towards making him go the faster. But he had better mind what he is about. There's many a man on board that can speak a good word for Frederic when he gets ashore; and, if all comes out, it will go hard with the master. The poor lad cries himself to sleep every night, and when he is asleep he has no rest, for in his dreams he talks of his mother and sister, and often sobs loud enough to wake the men whose hammocks swing near him. I am very sorry to see all this, for he is a fine boy, as I said before, and we are all fond of him; but he's not fit for this kind of work, leastwise not yet. I am glad you have taken notice of him, madam; for, though you cannot do any good while we're at sea, may be when you come ashore you won't forget poor Frederic Hamilton.'