"It's an old story," said I; "but, as you seem not to have heard it, I will enlighten you on the subject:—
Some years since, one of His Majesty's crack frigates had greatly distinguished herself, on the Mediterranean station, by the smartness and activity of her crew, her state of excellent discipline, and her great success in capturing prizes. For some time her good fortune seemed to have deserted her; day after day passed away, and not a tangible sail was to be seen; the time began to hang heavy on the hands of the crew, and discontent and disappointment were legible in their countenances. This state of things could not last long. The captain, a good and gallant seaman, perceived that the spirit of disaffection was busy among his crew, and determined to check it in the bud.
"Call the hands out, if you please, Mr Steady," said he to the first lieutenant.
The hands were called out; and when assembled on the quarterdeck, the captain addressed them to the following effect:—
"My lads, you used to be as active and cheerful a set of fellows as I would wish to command; I used to be proud of you, for you seemed to take pleasure in your duty; but now you go about the decks sullen and discontented, and only work because you dare not disobey. If you have any grievances to complain of, come forward like men and say so, and I will redress them, if I can; but I tell you, once for all, I will have no sulkiness; and by Heaven! if I can't drive it out of you in any other way, I'll flog it out of you."
After a short pause, one of the captains of the forecastle stepped out from the crew, and twirling his hat in one hand and scratching the back of his ear with the other, said—
"Please your honour, we haven't no grievances.'
"Then what the devil's the matter with you all?"
"Why, sir——" said the man, hesitatingly.
"Go on," said the captain—"I won't bite you."