low, who marched
up and down with a dilapidated old cutlass of most extraordinary
dimensions. From its length, we had some idea that it was expressly
intended to keep a crowd in order--reaching over the heads of
half-a-dozen, say, so as to get a cut at somebody behind.

"Mercy!" ejaculated the doctor with a shudder, "what a sensation it
must be to be killed by such a tool."

We fasted till night, when one of the boys came along with a couple of
"kids" containing a thin, saffron-coloured fluid, with oily particles
floating on top. The young wag told us this was soup: it turned out
to be nothing more than oleaginous warm water. Such as it was,
nevertheless, we were fain to make a meal of it, our sentry being
attentive enough to undo our bracelets. The "kids" passed from mouth
to mouth, and were soon emptied.

The next morning, when the sentry's back was turned, someone, whom we
took for an English sailor, tossed over a few oranges, the rinds of
which we afterward used for cups.

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 consider