He remembered how he had asked Hartington, early in the commission, for an introduction to Little Benjamin, this being the name given to the stick kept by most Subs for the flogging of midshipmen. Little Benjamin, our Ruler, it was customarily called by midshipmen themselves, or, with familiar affection, Benjy. Within Aggett’s experience Subs had been proud of this implement. They chose it with care, fed it with oil, put whipping on its end to prevent it from splitting, and exhibited to all comers its balance, flexibility, and other attributes. Aggett had seen a tea-party of lady visitors excited to gurgling laughter by one Sub’s scientific application of Benjy to a dusty armchair, and by the historical anecdotes with which he had coloured his performance. One lady had collaborated by providing with her own shrill voice the cries of the imaginary victim. And the other ladies, somewhat shocked perhaps by this uproariousness, had smiled, nevertheless, behind the teacups above the handles of which they crooked such genteel white fingers. It had amused them to think that the young men, ranging in age from eighteen to twenty, who came into the Gunroom now and then and went out quickly that they might not interrupt the Sub’s party, were treated as the dusty armchair was being treated then. They had seemed to think it right, Aggett reflected, and they were thoroughly respectable women. Aggett had asked to see Hartington’s Benjy, intending only to offer advice as to its treatment and care. Besides, as a point of politeness, one asked to see a Sub’s Benjy just as one asked to see a woman’s last-born babe. And Hartington had said curtly: “I haven’t got one.” “Then what do you beat the young gents with?” “I don’t beat them.” “Never?” “Never yet.” “Why not?” Hartington had wanted to say, “Because it makes me feel sick,” but, realizing in time how odd Aggett could make such an answer seem in the Wardroom, he substituted, “Because I have seen no need for it.” “Easy enough to _find_ a need, ain’t it?” “Perhaps.” “Well, why don’t you? It does ’em good. You’re not doin’ your duty by them.” “Thanks.” “But,” Aggett had persisted, unable to restrain the curiosity which the discovery of so eccentric a Sub had aroused in him, “but suppose the officer of the watch or the Commander sends a snotty down to you to have a dozen--what then?” “It hasn’t happened yet.” “But it licks ’em into shape,” Aggett had suggested good-humouredly, believing what he said. “Spare the rod and spoil the child, you know.” “I disagree absolutely.... Besides, they are not children. They are out in the world. My help is scarcely needed in the hurting of them.”