The captain was excessively proud; even his officers scarcely dared walk the quarter deck on the same side with him. He never allowed himself to be addressed but by his title of “my Lord.” Should a sailor, through design or forgetfulness, reply to a command, “Yes, sir,” the lordly man would look at him with a glance full of dignity, and sternly reply, “What, sir?” This, of course, would put the offender in mind to correct himself by saying, “Yes, my _Lord_.” Judge then of his surprise, indignation, nay, of his lordly horror, when poor old drunken Bob Hammond called him “Billy, my boy!” Doubtless it stirred up his nobility within him, for, with a voice of thunder, he exclaimed, “Put this man in irons!” It was done. The next morning, his back yet sore, poor Bob received five dozen more strokes of the hated cat-o’-nine-tails. Most heroically was it borne. No sound escaped him; the most profound silence was observed by all, broken only by the dead sound of the whip, as it fell every few moments on the wounded back. The scene was sickening in the extreme. Let me throw a veil over its details, simply remarking that it is questionable which of the two appears to the best advantage; poor drunken Bob, suffering degrading torture with heroic firmness, or my Lord Fitzroy, gloating on the scene with the appetite of a vulture! Let the reader decide for himself. These statements may at first sight appear incredible. It may be asked how a man could endure whippings which would destroy an ox or a horse. This is a very natural question, and but for the consciousness I feel of being supported in my statements by the universal testimony of old men-of-war’s-men, I should hesitate to publish them. The _worst_ species of this odious torture, however, remains to be described--flogging through the fleet. This punishment is never inflicted without due trial and sentence by a court-martial, for some aggravated offence. After the offender is thus sentenced, and the day arrives appointed by his judges for its execution, the unhappy wretch is conducted into the ship’s launch--a large boat--which has been previously rigged up with poles and grating, to which he is seized up; he is attended by the ship’s surgeon, whose duty it is to decide when the power of nature’s endurance has been taxed to its utmost. A boat from every ship in the fleet is also present, each carrying one or two officers and two marines fully armed. These boats are connected by tow lines to the launch.