Each Knot Brought Blood, And The Shock Of The
Blow Knocked The Breath Out Of A Man With An Involuntary
'Ugh!' However Stoically He Bore The Pain.
I have seen many a bad man flogged for unpardonable conduct,
and many a good man for a glass of grog too much.
My firm
conviction is that the bad man was very little the better;
the good man very much the worse. The good man felt the
disgrace, and was branded for life. His self-esteem was
permanently maimed, and he rarely held up his head or did his
best again. Besides which, - and this is true of all
punishment - any sense of injustice destroys respect for the
punisher. Still I am no sentimentalist; I have a contempt
for, and even a dread of, sentimentalism. For boy
housebreakers, and for ruffians who commit criminal assaults,
the rod or the lash is the only treatment.
A comic piece of insubordination on my part recurs to me in
connection with flogging. About the year 1840 or 1841, a
midshipman on the Pacific station was flogged. I think the
ship was the 'Peak.' The event created some sensation, and
was brought before Parliament. Two frigates were sent out to
furnish a quorum of post-captains to try the responsible
commander. The verdict of the court-martial was a severe
reprimand. This was, of course, nuts to every midshipman in
the service.
Shortly after it became known I got into a scrape for
laughing at, and disobeying the orders of, our first-
lieutenant, - the head of the executive on board a frigate.
As a matter of fact, the orders were ridiculous, for the said
officer was tipsy. Nevertheless, I was reported, and had up
before the captain. 'Old Tommy' was, or affected to be, very
angry. I am afraid I was very 'cheeky.' Whereupon Sir
Thomas did lose his temper, and threatened to send for the
boatswain to tie me up and give me a dozen, - not on the
back, but where the back leaves off. Undismayed by the
threat, and mindful of the episode of the 'Peak' (?) I looked
the old gentleman in the face, and shrilly piped out, 'It's
as much as your commission is worth, sir.' In spite of his
previous wrath, he was so taken aback by my impudence that he
burst out laughing, and, to hide it, kicked me out of the
cabin.
After another severe attack of fever, and during a long
convalescence, I was laid up at Macao, where I enjoyed the
hospitality of Messrs. Dent and of Messrs. Jardine and
Matheson. Thence I was invalided home, and took my passage
to Bombay in one of the big East India tea-ships. As I was
being carried up the side in the arms of one of the boatmen,
I overheard another exclaim: 'Poor little beggar. He'll
never see land again!'
The only other passenger was Colonel Frederick Cotton, of the
Madras Engineers, one of a distinguished family.
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