Last night was a windy one, and in the middle watch we split the mizzen-royal in a severe squall; so we took in the fore- and main-royals, the sea being choppy and the vessel plunging a good deal. It is customary to cut the light sails in such a manner that a fore-sky-sail will answer for a mizzen-royal; therefore, toward the end of the morning watch the fore-sky-sail was unbent and stretched on the mizzen-royal-yard, the royals having been set again an hour or so previously. It didn’t fit particularly well, but it will do until to-morrow, when the royal will be repaired, as such work is not done on Sunday unless in case of urgent need. Sometimes there is necessity for hard work on the Sabbath aboard ship, such an instance having occurred on the “Hosea Higgins” on her last homeward voyage from San Francisco. It might be first observed that, though it is the custom to give the men a holiday on Sunday, still if the captain orders anything done, he must be obeyed without murmur. On this particular occasion, Captain Scruggs saw fit to order one of the bosuns to do some work aloft, which he refused. The skipper went down on the main deck then and spoke to the man, a lusty young German, asking him why he refused to turn to. “Because it’s Soonday, zur,” he replied. “Sunday? Never heard of it. What is Sunday? Who told you anything about it?” quizzed the old man. “I say, a man’s not supposed to turn to on Soonday, zur,” repeated the bosun. “Oh, he’s not,” quoth the skipper; “then we always put him where he’ll have plenty of leisure. Mr. Goggins, the irons.” (This same mate came around from California in the “Higgins.”) The irons were brought, and the man, quietly enough, but with angry eye and sneering lip, put his hands behind him; the irons were locked on, and he was led down into the lazarette, where he sat calmly down, and the key was turned. Six hours afterward the mate went to him with some food and found that the man had in some way contrived to shift his hands around in front and was disposed to be ugly. Therefore he was taken up into the after part of the wheel-house (these structures on American ships are divided into equal portions, one containing the wheel and binnacle, the other the rudder-head, tiller, flag-locker, etc.), where a staple was driven into a carling, to which the man’s hands, still ironed, were secured, leaving him so that he could not sit down, his wrists being about six inches above his head. Now, this posture for twelve hours is enough to break the heart of a wild beast; yet this bosun stood there without a word for thirty hours, refusing food or drink during that time! At the end of every six hours or so the mate went to him and asked if he had had enough, to which the Teuton would answer “Naw.” His endurance yielded at the thirtieth hour and he implored to be released, which he was six hours later, and for the rest of the passage he was a model sailor.