Sketches From My Life | Page 4

order his steward to be flogged, almost to death,
because his pea-soup was not hot. I have seen an officer from twenty to
twenty-five years of age made to stand between two guns with a sentry
over him for hours, because he had neglected to see and salute the
tyrant who had come on deck in the dark. And as a proof, though it
seems scarcely credible, of what such men can do when unchecked by
fear of consequences, I will cite the following:--
On one occasion the captain of whom I have been writing invited a
friend to breakfast with him, and there being, I suppose, a slight
monotony in the conversation, he asked his guest whether he would
like, by way of diversion, to see a man flogged. The amusement was
accepted, and a man was flogged.
It was about the time I write of that the tyranny practised on board Her
Majesty's ships was slowly but surely dawning upon the public, and a
general outcry against injustice began.
This was shown in a very significant manner by the following fact:--
A post-captain of high rank and powerful connections dared, in
contradiction to naval law, to flog a midshipman. This young officer's
father, happening to be a somewhat influential man, made a stir about

the affair. The honourable captain was tried by court-martial and
severely reprimanded.
However, I will cut short these perhaps uninteresting details, merely
stating that for three years I suffered most shameful treatment. My last
interview with my amiable cousin is worth relating. The ship was paid
off, and the captain, on going to the hotel at Portsmouth, sent for me
and offered me a seat on his carriage to London. Full of disgust and
horror at the very sight of him, I replied that I would rather 'crawl home
on my hands and knees than go in his carriage,' and so ended our
acquaintance, for I never saw him again.
It may be asked how, like many others, I tided over all the ill-usage and
the many trials endured during three years. The fact is, I had become
during that period of ill-treatment so utterly hardened to it that I seemed
to feel quite indifferent and didn't care a rap. But wasn't I glad to be
free!
I had learnt many a lesson of use to me in after life, the most important
of all being to sympathise with other people's miseries, and to make
allowance for the faults and shortcomings of humanity.
On the other hand, experience is a severe taskmaster, and it taught me
to be somewhat insubordinate in my notions. I fear I must confess that
this spirit of insubordination has never left me.
On my arrival at home my relations failed to see in me an ill-used lad (I
was only sixteen), and seemed inclined to disbelieve my yarns; but this
did not alter the facts, nor can I ever forget what I went through during
that 'reign of terror,' as it might well be called.
People may wonder how was it in the days of Benbow and his
successors no complaints were made. To this I answer, first, that the
men of those days, knowing the utter hopelessness of complaining,
preferred to 'grin and bear;' secondly, that neither officers nor men were
supposed to possess such a thing as feeling, when they had once put
their foot on board a man-of-war. Then there were the almost
interminable sea voyages under sail, during which unspeakable

tyrannies could be practised, unheard of beyond the ship, and
unpunished. It must be remembered that there were no telegraphs, no
newspaper correspondents, no questioning public, so that the evil side
of human nature (so often shown in the very young in their cruelty to
animals) had its swing, fearless of retribution.
Let us leave this painful subject, with the consoling thought that we
shall never see the like again.
CHAPTER II.
PERILS BY SEA AND LAND.
After enjoying a few weeks at home, I was appointed to the Naval
Brigade on service in Spain, acting with the English army, who were
there by way of assisting Queen Christina against Don Carlos.
The army was a curious collection of regular troops and volunteer
soldiers, the latter what would be called 'Bashi-Bazouks.' The naval
part of the expedition consisted of 1,200 Royal Marines, and a brigade
of sailors under the orders of Lord John Hay. The army (barring the
regulars, who were few in numbers) was composed of about 15,000 of
the greatest rabble I ever saw, commanded by Sir De Lacy Evans.
For fear any objection or misapprehension be applied to the word
'rabble,' I must at once state that these volunteers, though in appearance
so motley and undisciplined, fought splendidly, and in that respect did
all