This adventure cost one of our own crew, an Irishman, by the name of Tom Smith, a severe flogging. Smith was quite a moral philosopher in his way; though it is to be regretted that his philosophy was a little infected with lunacy. Its premises were certainly sound, but, unfortunately, its conclusions bore but little relation to the parent of whom they boasted. He taught that man was born to do good; that his chief good was the promotion of his own interests; and that, per consequence, he should help himself to whatever he could lay his hands on, without regard to the rights of others. With these views, Tom earnestly defended the rightfulness of piracy, and could he have managed to get on board a pirate vessel, or even have contrived to wrest our own ship from the hands of her officers, and hoist the black flag, he would have cheerfully done so. But somehow, although he had made a number of disciples among his shipmates, our captain paid no manner of respect to his theories; for, when Tom, in consistency with his often declared principles, deliberately carried off a large sum of money from our capture, to his own quarters, the captain, who perceived the theft himself, ordered him to the gangway, and administered as many hard lashes, as if Tom had had no philosophy at all. But, although Tom Smith’s philosophy did not save its unlucky advocate from the unphilosophic punishment of the whip, it nevertheless exerted a baneful influence on the morals of our crew. Many of them were doubtless bad enough when they came on board; but a more complete school for the practise of iniquity never existed, than that on board our brig. Profanity, blasphemy, lying, licentious conversation, and even a system of petty stealing, were practised on a large scale. Many of the men were ripe for any crime within the power of depraved humanity to commit, and I have often thought that even the decks of a privateer or a pirate, could not lead one faster and deeper into the extremes of wickedness, than did the influence of our main deck.