‘The most degrading, sir,’ said the doctor. ‘I am surprised that you should think proper to repeat the request.’
‘The voyage is a doocid long one,’ murmured Captain Barrett.
‘Isn’t there to be some punishment this morning?’ asked Captain Sutherland.
‘A little light punishment,’ answered the doctor—‘two hours of the box.’
‘You don’t believe in the cat, sir?’ said Captain Barrett.
‘I do not,’ answered the doctor.
‘I believed in the cat until pickling went out of fashion,’ said the subaltern. ‘A man who had been salted down whilst bleeding seldom courted a second dose; but now I understand your man-of-war’s man thinks so lightly of flogging that he would rather take three dozen than forfeit a day’s allowance of grog.’
‘I’m no lover of the cat myself,’ said Captain Sutherland, ‘but it’s good discipline. It’s a degrading punishment, very proper for degraded men. I have some men forward who deserve whipping, and whipping, perhaps, isn’t enough for them; nor would pickling suffice. They want quartering. The Government forces us commanders of hired transports to fill our forecastle with a given number of hands. No questions are asked. So long as your complement numerically corresponds with the Government requirement, all’s supposed to be right. Now, what sort of a crew did the crimp scramble together for me that my muster might answer to the Admiralty wants? I’ve about six seamen qualified to steer. I doubt if there are ten men forward who know how to send down a yard. But one has to take what one can get. The crimp comes along and throws a gutter-brood aboard; some are not fit even as shilling-a-monthers, and have bribed the crimp to the pawning of their only shirt to ship them, that they may get abroad, where they’ll run.’
‘I don’t like the looks of a good many of your men,’ said the doctor.
‘But you could muster strongly enough for an emergency, captain?’ said the subaltern.