ideas of discipline. The ship’s prison on board a man-of-war is called the “brig.” The captain had already given this name to his place of discipline.
It was one of the rooms of the dormitory, fitted up for the purpose intended. The walls and ceiling, as well as the floor, had been constructed of thick spruce plank. All the wood had been covered with sheet-iron. The two windows were grated with iron bars. It contained a narrow iron bedstead, an iron stand for a table, and one chair of the same material. The locks on the door were strong enough for any prison. But not even the door could be seen from the hall of the dormitory, for it was concealed by a wooden partition in front of it.
No boy was to be allowed to visit this strong-room unless he was condemned to become an occupant of it for his misconduct. He had not mentioned it to the boys, and the instructors were requested not to do so. The iron in the room was all painted black, so that it was an exceedingly gloomy-looking apartment. The captain hoped he should never have occasion to make any use of the brig; and certainly he had not
expected to have an occupant for it on the day the first of the boys arrived.
Mr. Brookbine took his prisoner to the brig, attended by the captain. He was hurried up the stairs, and thrust into the prison, without any ceremony. The lantern lighted up the gloomy den when the door was opened; and, if Oscar did not shrink from his fate, he had more nerve than ninety-nine in a hundred boys.
He did give a start when he looked into the brig, and it required some effort on the part of the mechanic to force him into it. In the dungeon he looked about him with something like an expression of disgust on his face. Then he seemed to feel that he was yielding somewhat to the circumstances; and he straightened up, and made an effort to “stiffen his back.” His persecutors were retiring from the entrance, and the captain was about to close the door.
“I have eaten nothing since I had my breakfast, early this morning,” said Oscar stiffly, when he saw that he was about to be locked into the cell for the night.
“It is your own fault. All the rest of the boys had supper at the hotel in Burlington,” replied the captain.
“Do you mean to starve me?” demanded the prisoner.
“No, I don’t mean to starve you.—Dory,” called the captain at the open window in the hall: “go into the house and get a loaf of bread, a case-knife, and a pitcher of water.”