h of
his tyrannical conduct to a prentice lad on board, to wish to fill such
a disagreeable post.

Benjie Monro was a tall, thin, sickly-looking lad of sixteen, the son of
a poor widow in Newhaven, who had seen better days. The boy was proud
and obstinate, and resisted the ill-treatment of his superior and his
subordinates, with a determination of purpose that did him no good, but
only increased his own misery.

The sailors, who knew that he was no favourite with the Captain,
half-starved him, and played him a thousand ill-natured tricks. He was
ill and unhappy, and tasked beyond his strength; and Mr. Collins, kind
as he generally was to others, was cruel and overbearing to the wretched
boy. Flora often saw the tears in Benjie's eyes, and she pitied him from
her heart.

One morning Benjie had received orders to do something in his particular
calling from the mate; but his commands were expressed in such a
tyrannical manner, that he flatly refused to comply. Flinging himself
down on the deck, he declared, "He would die first."

"We shall soon see who's master here," cried Mr. Collins, administering
sundry savage kicks to the person of the half-clad boy, who lay as
motionless before him as if he were really dead.

After diverting himself for some time in this way, and finding that it
produced no more effect in making the lad stir than if he had been
wasting his strength on a log, he called up the Captain.

"Dead is he?" said old Boreas. "Well, we'll soon bring him to life. Call
Motion to fetch a light."

The light was brought, and applied to the toes and finger-ends of the
boy, until they were severely scorched. His obstinate spirit, however,
bore the torturing punishment without moving a muscle, or uttering the
faintest moan.[A]

[A] This was the fact.

"By George! I believe he is gone at last, and a good riddance of a bad
bargain," said the Captain. "If he had a spark of life left in him he
could not stand that."

Lyndsay, who had been writing in the cabin, now came upon deck, and
enquiring of the second mate what was going on, ran forward, and warmly
interceded for the boy, telling the captain and mate in no measured
terms what he thought of their conduct.

"You would not say a word in his behalf, Mr. Lyndsay," said Collins, "if
you knew what a sulky rascal he was. Insensible as he appears, he is as
wide awake at that this moment as you are."

"He is a miserable, heart-broken creature," said Lyndsay; "a