Had young Harley, instead of such headstrong conduct, exerted his real abilities as a seaman, applied himself to his profession, and shown his officers and commanders, that, though a mere youth, he could hand, reef, and steer, as well as the most experienced seaman,--and this, added to the sober and moral conduct natural to him, with an education and manners far above his station in life, joined to a stout and active body, and undaunted courage;--these qualifications would have created respect in every one, and in no one more than his just and upright commander; and his persecutor must have exposed his motives before he could have injured him: _now_ he was fully in his power, and Lord Robert vowed that he should most submissively implore his pardon for all his transgressions, before he should find any mercy. "I can't tell what to make of that lad," said Lieutenant Cary to Lord Robert, as the boatswain was untying Harley from a gun, where he had borne, with Spartan firmness, the infliction of a cruel punishment, which his wilful disobedience had brought on him: "he neither drinks nor swears, nor associates with the more dissolute part of the crew: but we have more trouble with him than with the most abandoned reprobate. Yet he seems to me to be meant for better things." Cary said this as a sort of encouragement to the unfortunate youth, whose manly endurance of extreme suffering had touched his heart. "Oh!" returned Lord Robert, with a contemptuous laugh, "mutiny and disobedience are nothing new to this fellow; his conduct at sea only matches his behaviour on land--he was always what you now see him!" "'Tis false! _You_ have made me what I am," said Philip, with a withering look. "False!" exclaimed Lord Robert, striking Philip as he spoke. "Yes, oppressor, false!" repeated Philip, returning the blow. Cary, from a principle of humanity, tried to stay his arm; but Philip was too quick for him. "Madman!" said he, in a tone of regret, "you have forfeited your life!" "Then let him take it if he will! Thank God, it will be the last injury he can do me!" said Philip, resigning his hands with composure to the fetters with which he was immediately bound. Harley was considered on board ship so desperate a mutineer, that it was judged necessary to chain him down to the deck, lest, in his fits of rage, as he seemed so careless of his own life, he should set fire to the vessel, and destroy himself and the ship's company together. Here, then, exposed to the sun by day and the dews by night, with less liberty than the savage beast, the wretched youth awaited the certain fate to which, on their arrival in the first port, the laws of war would doom him, for striking an officer on duty.