On the second day nothing happened worthy of record. On the third, we
were amused by the following scene.
A man, whom we supposed a boatswain's mate, from the silver whistle
hanging from his neck, came below, driving before him a couple of
blubbering boys, and followed by a whole troop of youngsters in
tears. The pair, it seemed, were sent down to be punished by command
of an officer; the rest had accompanied them out of sympathy.
The boatswain's mate went to work without delay, seizing the poor
little culprits by their loose frocks, and using a ratan without
mercy. The other boys wept, clasped their hands, and fell on their
knees; but in vain; the boatswain's mate only hit out at them; once
in a while making them yell ten times louder than ever.
In the midst of the tumult, down comes a midshipman, who, with a great
air, orders the man on deck, and running in among the bows, sets them
to scampering in all directions.
The whole of this proceeding was regarded with infinite scorn by Navy
Bob, who, years before, had been captain of the foretop on board a
line-of-battle ship. In his estimation, it was a lubberly piece of
business throughout: they did things differently in the English navy.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE REINE BLANCHE
I CANNOT forbear a brief reflection upon the scene ending the last
chapter.
The ratanning of the young culprits, although significant of the
imperfect discipline of a French man-of-war, may also be considered
as in some measure characteristic of the nation.
In an American or English ship, a boy when flogged is either lashed to
the breech of a gun, or brought right up to the gratings, the same
way the men are. But as a general rule, he is never punished beyond
his strength. You seldom or never draw a cry from the young rogue. He
bites his tongue and stands up to it like a hero. If practicable
(which is not always the case), he makes a point of smiling under the
operation. And so far from his companions taking any compassion on
him, they always make merry over his misfortunes. Should he turn baby
and cry, they are pretty sure to give him afterward a sly pounding in
some dark corner.
This tough training produces its legitimate results. The boy becomes,
in time, a thoroughbred tar, equally ready to strip and take a dozen
on board his own ship, or, cutlass in hand, dash pell-mell on board
the enemy's. Whereas the young Frenchman, as all the world knows,
makes but an indifferent seaman; and though, for the most part, he
fights well enough, somehow or other he seldom fights well enough to
beat.
