The Stinger made the best of her way towards the East Indies, it being
rumoured that a portion of the Russian fleet was sailing in that
direction, having been shut out of Sebastopol by the rapid action of the
allied fleets of France and England.
The day after leaving the Cape, Puffeigh was taken seriously ill, his
sickness proving to be brain fever, doubtless caused by the severe
treatment received at the hands of the old German. Thompson acted as his
nurse; and although he took quite as great care of himself as he did of
his patient, Jerry's appointment was not an agreeable one. The commander
did not leave his bed until they arrived in Singapore, and the ship was
more than ever under the despotic control of Crushe.
It must not be imagined that the first lieutenant tyrannized over every
one of his crew,--he was far too prudent to do that. By countenancing a
few of the most brutal of the men, he kept himself posted with regard to
those who had received cruel treatment by his orders. Again, if his
misdeeds came to the knowledge of the press at any port they might
visit, he thought it would be as well to have a number of trusty men he
could send on shore, who would be a living advertisement for him, and
prove by word and deed what jolly fellows the Stingers all were; so he
promoted the fiends among the crew, and flogged those who showed a
particle of manly feeling or self-respect. Shever was his right-hand
man, being perfectly willing to testify to anything at his bidding; and
between the Cape and Singapore many a man was brought to the gratings.
The crew were teased and worried until several of them became mutinous,
upon which they were reported and flogged, the number of lashes awarded
the victims varying from twenty-four to thirty-six, according to the
caprice of Crushe; and very few of those not in the first lieutenant's
favour escaped with unscarred backs. The boatswain and his mates were
often the worse for liquor, and this, when the unjust lieutenant was
punishing men for being intoxicated, upon the false testimony of Shever.
Puffeigh signed all the warrants, and would compliment Crushe upon the
excellent state of discipline into which he was bringing the crew. "Flog
the brutes now you are away from the station, and when in port stop the
leave of all those mutinous dogs who ask for their rights, and you will
soon have a good crew," commented the commander one day when requested
to sanction a brace of warrants for punishment. Thompson, who handed him
the pen with which he signed the atrocious orders, uttered a silent
prayer that the old Tartar might never be able to sign any others.
Cravan and Crushe were greater friends than ever, and the former gloated
over the spectacle of seeing Englishmen enjoy one of their naval
privileges--the Lash.
Lieutenant Ford was pained and disgusted, and with the doctor, master,
and paymaster, showed his contempt for the first lieutenant by cutting
him in every way, and only speaking to him on duty.
They knew that there was no remedy. If either of them were rash enough
to report matters to the senior officer, on their arrival at Singapore a
court of inquiry would follow. What that would result in they knew but
too well; Crushe, having creatures enough at his command ready to swear
to anything, would be exonerated, while in all probability the officer
who made the complaint would be sent home in disgrace. Moreover, it is
considered ungentlemanly for officers to report each other.
One morning the ship was steaming in a dead calm, with Cravan in charge
of the deck, the first lieutenant having ceased to keep regular watch,
in consequence of the captain's illness. Midshipman Ryan had mustered
the watch and idlers, and found one of the number absent.
"Who is the infernal sweep," demanded Nosey.
Upon this Mr. Shever, who was standing by, reported, "It's Dunstable,
sir."
"Fetch him up--rouse him out--don't spare him, Mr. Shever; cut him down,
curse him!"
Dunstable was a weak-minded fellow, who had one day before he went to
sea stolen a loaf of bread to keep life in his body, and therefore had
been a thief according to the law of the land. A humane magistrate gave
him the alternative of "entering a man-of-war, or going to prison for a
month." The poor idiot chose the freedom of the sea to a lodging in
Pentonville palace, and was in due time drafted to the Stinger as an
ordinary seaman; probably being, in the words of the facetious
boatswain, "about as ordinary a seaman as he'd ever set eyes on." Crushe
imagined the idiotic expression of the fellow's face was assumed to
induce the commander to dismiss him from the service as useless; but
this was not so--the man was weak-minded,--and any one with a particle
of humanity in his heart would have been gentle with the "softy."
While at the Cape, Dunstable had tried to desert, so the day after they
left that place he was brought to the gratings and received two dozen
lashes, which destroyed the little sense he originally possessed; and
some of the crew, finding the first lieutenant down upon the poor
fellow, played him all manner of tricks. Wet swabs were dropped upon the
"mad un," his grog stolen or diluted with vinegar, and pipes charged
with powder were lent him by pretended sympathizers; who, knowing their
superior officer disliked the man, vented their spleen upon him without
fear of consequences.
Shever found Dunstable coiled up in his hammock, pretending to snooze.
With the grin of a demon he took out his knife, cut the clews, and let
the man down crash upon his head, then grasped him by the hair, and
found he had received a severe scalp wound.
Rousing out one of the men who was sleeping near, and who proved to be
Tom Clare, Shever told him to call the assistant-surgeon, adding, "Don't
you call that cursed meddler, the old doctor;" and giving him a caution
not to say anything to the latter, the worthy warrant-officer went on
deck.
By some extraordinary accident the senior surgeon was called, we
strongly suspect by Clare--although the doctor declared he came forward
by accident. Dunstable's wound was sewed up, and the unfortunate fellow
told "that he was on the sick list," but as the surgeon left the man the
latter got up, and in spite of Clare's persuasions, walked on deck,
where he went aft and reported himself ready for duty.
Crushe had just turned out, and was walking the starboard side of the
quarter-deck, conversing with Cravan about Dunstable, when the latter
made his appearance. Crossing over to the port side, he cursed the
smiling idiot as a "useless thing"--"a dirty, beastly hound"--"a son of
a dog, unfitted to live;" and turning to Cravan, asked what there was
against the fellow.
"Absence from muster, skulking below in his watch on deck, insulting his
superior officer (the boatswain), and not going on deck when directed by
his superior officer," saying which Cravan pointed to the grinning
object, as he would to some loathsome reptile, and added, "Yes, and the
beast is filthy, and wants holy stoning."
Crushe then indulged in a flow of shameful abuse. His victim--fool as
he was--clenched his fists, ground his teeth, and replied in language no
less foul; but after a time he faltered, and wound up with, "Well, thank
goodness for everything!"
"What did you say, you yahoo?" roared Crushe.
"I said, Thank goodness for everything, amen. Can't I say my prayers in
a man-o'-war?"
"Mr. Shever, give this hound a scrubbing with sand and canvas, and clean
his mouth out with it," said the gallant officer and gentleman.
Unable to keep his tongue quiet, and not realizing the purport of the
cruel order Dunstable replied, "You're too good to me, sir; thank
goodness again! who'd have thought I'd have found such a good friend in
a man-o'-war?" However, seeing Shever advance to seize him, the imbecile
began to yell, and tried to run forward, but was quickly secured by the
boatswain and his mates, with whom the poor fellow bit and fought in
very desperation.
"Let me go, you brutes! I won't bother you again if you let me go! I'll
take a good long drink if you'll only let me go!"
He would have jumped overboard, if they had released him then, but there
was no fear of that,--the business they had in hand was too congenial to
their taste for them to let him drown himself, so he was bundled and
worried about until his few clothes were stripped off, when, to prevent
any further noise on his part, Mr. Shever roughly thrust a gag in his
mouth.
The wash deck tub was filled with salt water, a grating laid across, and
Dunstable's hands made fast to it behind, so that he could not rise or
struggle without injuring his wrists. The boatswain called for a bucket
of coarse sand, took a piece of hard sailcloth, wetted it, dipped it in
the sand, and himself commenced to inflict the scandalous torture known
as "scrubbing with sand and canvas." His mates fell to with zeal, and
these fiends in human shape rubbed and excoriated the person of the
wretched Dunstable from head to foot. The sand was mixed with shells,
which cut like knives, while the salt water pickled and stung until the
victim almost fainted, upon which they cut his hands adrift and ducked
him in the water.
The watch and idlers knocked off work "to see the sport," and encouraged
by the countenance of Crushe and Cravan, shouted with delight whenever
the idiot uttered a groan or writhed in agony. There had lately been a
great deal of torture inflicted before their eyes, and they had become
quite judges of its effects.
When Dunstable had for the tenth time been thrust to the bottom of the
brimming wash deck tub, Shever called for a pair of scissors, and
proceeded to hack off the hair from the poor victim's head. Many were
the jokes indulged in by the _gentle_ barber at the expense of the
idiot, as some of the grinning wags around him asked for "locks of his
hair to send to their grandmothers," and when the last clip was made
they felt quite sorry there was no more left.
Bruised, demented, and bewildered was the shivering specimen of humanity
when they removed the gag, and leading him to the fore-rigging told him
"to run for his life three times over the mast head."
As he did not reply or offer to move, the boatswain gave him a kick,
upon which he said, "Thank goodness for that!" This raised a laugh among
the jolly tars who were standing around him, and one of them, emulating
the warrant-officer's example, also dealt the fool a kick.
"I can't go up that ladder," he pleaded. "I'm not up to that move. Thank
goodness for all things;" and added, in the slang of the beings who had
reared him, "my nibs ain't vardi for that."
"Shever, muster the boys, give each a strip of raw hide, and let them
flog this fellow aloft," said Crushe.
The active boatswain soon did as he was directed, and the boys were
mustered and equipped in a very short space of time.
"Now, my lads, lay on to him as hard as you like," shouted the first
lieutenant.
Dunstable sprang into the rigging when he saw the boatswain arming the
boys, who were all willing enough to advance, but afraid of their
victim's vicious looks. At last one rat of a boy sprang up beside him,
and brought his strip of hide stinging across the poor fellow's naked
body. In a moment up went his foot, and with a kick under the jaw, which
made the boy bite the tip off his tongue, the hunted man stretched the
little brute senseless upon the deck, completely stunned by his fall
from the rigging.
Upon seeing this the sailors became furious, and urged the boys to
attack him in a body.
"Lay into the brute, you warmints," bellowed the boatswain.
"Give it him, my lads!" cried the first lieutenant.
"A shilling for the next who touches him!" roared Cravan.
Dunstable gave one loud idiotic shout, then darted aloft like a
squirrel, followed by twenty vindictive little devils thirsting to
avenge the blow he gave their chum. Now one would reach him, when sting
would go the torturing raw hide, making the idiot curse and howl like a
demon. It was glorious sport for the lookers on, almost as good as
bear-baiting.
Up, up they go, pursued and pursuers, until they reach the
main-royal-stay; but only one boy followed then, the others hung on to
the rigging and watched the sport; they were afraid to go on, the man's
eyes glared so. Dunstable saw at a glance if he could only get across he
would be safe from his persecutors. Away he clambered up the stay, hand
over hand and foot over foot, like an experienced sailor.
The men below turned the quids in their cheeks, and observed to each
other that "he warn't sich a darned fool arter all, you know, as he
could get about aloft like a regler knowin one." But suddenly he
stopped. His right leg slid from the stay, and hung helplessly down;
soon the left followed, and he dangled aloft, holding on by his long,
lean, sinewless arms.
A groan of horror burst from the crew. "He'll fall! O God, he'll fall!!"
said Clare, who, roused out by the noise, had come on deck. All eyes
were strained towards the poor wretch, who now began to show signs of
total exhaustion. With a fearful wail he let go one hand, and swayed,
with the weight of his body entirely thrown upon the other; then
suddenly he released his grasp, and shot down towards the deck.
Those who could bear to look saw him strike the main-top-gallant-stay,
turn over twice in his descent, and fall across the bridge.
Up sprang Clare, and tenderly he lifted the now broken form of the
wretched idiot. Crushe, with livid face and trembling lips, asked him if
the man was dead. Tom could not reply. He was too indignant to trust
himself to speak; but giving the lieutenant a look of scorn, he raised
the body in his powerful arms, and reclining the inanimate head upon his
shoulder as gently as a woman would have laid her babe's, bore his
mangled burden to the surgery.
The little doctor did his utmost to save the man's life,--amputation of
one limb was resorted to, but all without avail. Crushe ordered a screen
to be placed across the steerage, and every few moments went to know
"how the fellow got on."
But the end was not far off. Maimed by accident or design, mutilated by
the surgeon's art, weak and weary, the spirit of Dunstable would have
passed away without a struggle, but Crushe came down; and when he saw
his enemy standing before him with no sign of pity, but rather a
contemptuous expression upon his cruel face, the victim raised his head,
and with his eyes gleaming with unnatural brightness, gasped out, "_You_
did this, you monster! _you_ did this; tell my mother _he_ murdered me!"
Then, with a terrible convulsion, the muscles of his body trembled, and
the soul of the idiot passed to the other world, where, we are told,
"there will be no more sorrow, nor any trouble known, no more misery or
injustice, but all will be joy and peace."
There lay the victim with the marks of the cat upon his body, the
effects of the sand torture still visible upon him, and with the livid
wales raised by the raw-hide thongs growing more distinct each moment.
There lay the idiot, foully murdered, and done to death by Crushe and
his subordinates; yet none dared tell of it, or raise their voice in
denouncing his murderers.
The doctor told Clare to arrange the body for burial, and the sailor who
had himself suffered so much performed the last few offices for the
dead. When this was done they carried it up, placed it aft upon the
quarter-deck, and spread a flag over it. There it lay until the
commander was notified that the ordinary seaman who fell from aloft was
ready for burial. Then Puffeigh directed Crushe to "bury the fellow,"
adding, "he considered it a good riddance;" and that officer, with the
blood of his victim on his conscience, stood at the port, and with mock
humility read from the prayer book of the Church of England the solemn
service "for the burial of the dead, who die at sea." There, with the
crew gathered round, the man whose bloody work it was which the flag
covered, this sin-steeped wretch, with holy words upon his accursed
lips, "committed his brother to the deep, _in the sure and certain hope
of a joyful resurrection when the sea shall give up its dead_."
"Hands, make sail!" A breeze had sprung up, and all that was mortal of
Dunstable was soon far astern.
Crushe made the following entry in the log-book of H. M. S. Stinger,
where it looked like a very ordinary accident.
"8.50. A.M., lat. ---- long. ----. Departed this life, Charles
Dunstable, ordinary seaman belonging to this ship, having died from the
effects of injuries received through falling from aloft."
"Departed this life," hounded to death, and forced into another, and we
hope a happier, state, was this man and brother. "May he rest in peace."
Some time after this, an old woman dozing over her misery by the side of
a wretched fire in a London garret, received a letter from a
kind-hearted midshipman belonging to the Stinger; and when a friend read
the contents to her she cried and rocked herself, saying, "She had lost
her boy, her dear, good, darling Charley."