Discipline

Captain Martin Boyle watched the sands drain through the glass, it was nearly eight bells of the forenoon watch, almost time for the punishment to be carried out. He sighed, it was his duty to support his officers, even when he believed them to be at fault, as he felt was the case with Midshipman Simmons. The crime had, undoubtedly, been committed, but in the present climate a more experienced officer would have turned a deaf ear to the comment. The entire crew had been on edge since the strange sail had been sighted off the larboard quarter two days ago, add to that the lack of wind and oppressive heat it was no wonder tempers were flaring.

The ships bell rang out eight times.

“All hands standby to witness punishment,” First Lieutenant, Ian Leary, called out. His order swiftly taken up by warrant officers and whistles bringing the whole ship to life.

Men gathered on the main deck, the rigging and the yardarms, anywhere they could find space, as the grating was erected and the prisoner brought forth.

Captain Boyle cleared his throat, “Seaman Harris you have been charged with the use of abusive language toward an officer, having found sufficient cause to find you guilty of said crime I hereby sentence you to one dozen lashes,” he said, it was the minimum amount he could award.

There were murmurs from the sailors, a few grinned, one even saluted the captain. Harris was a popular man, a good seaman too. Captain Boyle cast a glance round the quarterdeck, the only one not happy with his order was the midshipman who had made the complaint, whose eyes turned from anger to pleasure as the first blow was struck.

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