The indignant middies held council, and found it imperative on their part to make an example of the fellow, who, after stealing their two hundred dollars, had insulted them by bringing off a stinking turkey-buzzard, instead of a boat load of sea stock; nothing short of a cobbing would meet the requirements of the case. It never, for a moment, occurred to them that had they treated the steward better, he would not have so misbehaved himself. No doubt the man was not sufficiently appreciative of all their favours, and the many kindnesses they _imagined_ he received at their hands. It was also very wrong indeed for him to lose the money and get intoxicated; but he was a poor weak-minded fellow, and human, although some of the young gentlemen--his masters--often tried to persuade themselves to the contrary. Torture being rather the popular amusement on board the Stinger, not one of those present imagined the order "to give the Yahoo fits" was a cruel one; and when the senior midshipman, who gave it, proceeded to gag the steward with a towel, willing hands were put forth to hold "the brute." After binding the bewildered victim to the mess table, the young gentlemen worked away at him, until they got tired of the amusement, and then kicked him adrift with instructions "to fetch aft some grog water," upon which he replied, "he would see them blessed if he did." Finding the man determined to resist lawful authority, they reported him to Crushe, who directed him to be lashed up in the fore-rigging. Strange to say, after he had been suspended by the wrists for an hour he fainted, so he was cast adrift, and told "he might turn in." He never turned out again, being found dead in his hammock when the young gentlemen wanted their coffee the next morning. The doctor was sent for, and he declared the man had died in a fit some hours before; so they entered it in the ship's log as "a death caused by intoxication and over exertion." No one ever made inquiry about the parish apprentice, and the matter was soon a thing of the past. Captain Puffeigh declined to receive visitors, and Crushe was obliged to do the honours of the ship. During the morning one of the principal magistrates called to pay his respects to the commander, and was entertained by the first lieutenant. It was quite amusing to hear Crushe speak of the crew, and the old Anglo-Indian thought he had never met a more humane, kind-hearted officer. "Is it not strange," he remarked, "that although we give our men good pay, excellent food, and the kindest treatment, yet no sooner do they touch shore than they abuse the confidence reposed in them, get drunk and desert?" "They ought to be flogged, sir--yes, sir! The lash is the thing. I advocate the lash for such fellows. You're a devilish sight too humane, sir." "My dear sir, pardon me! not the lash. We can do without that." "True! Well, you are right; the cause of humanity forbids its use. I honour your sentiments, sir. I was hasty."