He thanked me
for this advice, and profited by it, as he assured me in his last
moments.
"And now, sir," said he, "let me give _you_ a piece of advice. When
you are a captain, as I am very sure you will be, do not worry your
men into mutiny by making what is called a smart ship. Cleanliness and
good order are what seamen like; but niggling, polishing, scraping
iron bars, and ring-bolts, and the like of that, a sailor dislikes
more than a flogging at the gangway. If, in reefing topsails, you
happen to be a minute later than another ship, never mind it, so long
as your sails are well reefed, and fit to stand blowing weather. Many
a sail is split by bad reefing, and many a good sailor has lost his
life by that foolish hurry which has done incredible harm in the navy.
What can be more cruel or unjust than to flog the last man off the
yard? seeing that he is necessarily the most active, and cannot get in
without the imminent danger of breaking his neck; and, moreover, that
one man _must_ be last. Depend upon it, sir, 'that nothing is well
done which is done in a hurry.' But I have kept you too long. God
bless you, sir; remember my poor mother, and be sure you meet me on
the forecastle to-morrow morning."
The fatal morning came. It was eight o'clock. The gun fired--the
signal for punishment flew at our mast-head. The poor men gave a deep
groan, exclaiming, "Lord have mercy upon us!--our earthly career and
troubles are nearly over!" The master-at-arms came in, unlocked the
padlock at the end of the bars, and, slipping off the shackles,
desired the marine sentinels to conduct the prisoners to the
quarter-deck.
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