Jack did not move, and, withal, wore so dignified and independent an air, that the man, who had charge of the mess to which the recruit was ordered, struck him once more, on the side of the head, with the tin pan. This was rather more than Jack’s warm blood could endure, and more than his philosophy was proof against. Regardless of the rigid discipline of a man-of-war, he instantly squared off, and planted a smart blow of his fist upon the face of the surly fellow. With a volley of heavy oaths, the cook of the mess sprang at him with the ferocity of a tiger. Jack, who was cooler, defended himself on scientific principles, and repeated his “practice” upon the physiognomy of his antagonist with such effect, that either because his blows were tremendous, or because there was a spot of grease on the deck, his assailant went down. “Avast there, Spriggs!” shouted an old and dignified salt, who was mending his pants near the scene,--“avast there, and let the youngster alone!” For a moment, the blue-jackets on the gun-deck revelled in the anticipation of a fight. A crowd began to gather; but the sport was quickly nipped in the bud by the appearance of a couple of marines with cutlasses in their hands, each of whom seized one of the beliggerents. “What’s all this about?” asked one of the marines. “What’s it about?” replied Spriggs. “Why, that young lubber hit me side of the head; and I don’t let any man this side of Gibraltar do that.” “He struck me three times on the head with the tin pan,” added Jack; “and no man this side of Gibraltar, or the other side either, can do that.” “I shall report you to the officer of the deck,” said the marine, as a couple of ship’s corporals appeared, and were left to enforce a strict neutrality between the parties. In a few moments the master-at-arms presented himself, and Jack and Spriggs were ordered to the spar-deck for examination. The parties were conducted into the awful presence of the officer of the deck, before whom all of them, including the master-at-arms, and Tom Longstone, the old seaman, who had witnessed the affray, reverently touched their hats; which is the usual token of respect to an officer on board a ship-of-war. “Well, my lad, you have made a bad beginning,” began the officer of the deck, who was no doubt pained to see the _protégé_ of Lieutenant Bankhead thus early implicated in a disturbance. “It was not my fault, sir,” replied Jack. “I beg your honor’s pardon: but the youngster hit me side of the head; and what I did, yer honor, was in self-defence,” said Spriggs. “How’s that, my lad?” demanded the officer. “It is not true, sir. I was sitting on the chest, when he came up behind me, and struck me over the head with a tin pan.” “Yes, yer honor: he was sodgering on the mess-chest, and wouldn’t get out of the way, so I could get the hard-tack out for supper.” “Then you struck him first?” asked the officer sternly. “He wouldn’t move till I did,” added Spriggs sourly.