"How did you contrive to seize that big fellow with only one hand?" demanded the surgeon. "Well, doctor, you see I felt so mad with the fools, knowing they would never get their rights that way, and the sooner they come to their senses the better, that I rushes in and collars big Dick Henston, and afore I knew how much I was hurt, I had hustled him out; but my arm's mighty painful now, I can tell ye, sir." "You won't be able to punish the men when they are flogged," slyly observed the doctor. "Thank goodness for that! I'd rather have both my arms broken than use their strength in that way. I'm on the list, ain't I, sir?" "Yes; you had better keep in your cabin for a day or two." Thompson felt quite thankful for having been crippled by the mutineers, as he would most assuredly have refused to flog the men had he been so directed. His promotion was through the kindness of one who did not use the lash, and when he accepted the appointment, Jerry little imagined he would ever be called upon to perform such a brutal duty. The morning after the disturbance the five prisoners were brought before the commander, who, after listening to the complaint of the first lieutenant, and refusing to hear more than a few words in explanation from the men, sentenced each of them to receive forty-eight lashes, directing the punishment to take place twenty-four hours after the sentence was passed. At the appointed time the gratings were rigged, and five foolish fellows were duly made more reckless than they were before. Thompson lay upon his bed and watched the countenance of Clare, who was seated by his side, and noticed that as the sailor heard the words "one! two!" his lips moved, and it was with great difficulty that he controlled himself. "I thought all this devil's work were over in this ship, Jerry." "So did I, chum, or I'd never ha' taken the warrant. Why, if any one 'ud have said to me, 'Thompson, before the ship arrives in England the gratings will be rigged, and the cat laid across one of the Stingers' backs,' I should have laughed at 'em." "Jerry! did you hear that poor fellow cry out?" "Hear him! Ay, Tom, and pity him. Poor devils, they put up with ill-treatment until flesh and blood could stand it no longer, and then, not knowing any better, they mutinied. Lieutenant Cravan worked 'em up to it, knowing he had only to keep on long enough, and they'd turn at last, but I was proud to see none of the old hands jined the foolish fellows--But--who are they flogging now? why, he groans awful!" "That's Jack Jones. I can tell his voice. He ain't a bad man." "He'll be a devil after this, though, Tom!"