ship, never mind it, so long as your sails are well reefed, and fit to stand blowing weather.  Many a sail is split by bad reefing, and many a good sailor has lost his life by that foolish hurry which has done incredible harm in the navy.  What can be more cruel or unjust than to flog the last man off the yard? seeing that he is necessarily the most active, and cannot get in without the imminent danger of breaking his neck; and, moreover, that one man must be last.  Depend upon it, sir, ’that nothing is well done which is done in a hurry.’  But I have kept you too long.  God bless you, sir; remember my poor mother, and be sure you meet me on the forecastle to-morrow morning.”

The fatal morning came.  It was eight o’clock.  The gun fired—­the signal for punishment flew at our mast-head.  The poor men gave a deep groan, exclaiming, “Lord have mercy upon us!—­our earthly career and troubles are nearly over!” The master-at-arms came in, unlocked the padlock at the end of the bars, and, slipping off the shackles, desired the marine sentinels to conduct the prisoners to the quarter-deck.

Here was a scene of solemnity which I hardly dare attempt to describe.  The day was clear and beautiful; the top-gallant yards were crossed on board of all the ships; the colours were flying; the crews were all dressed in white trousers and blue jackets, and hung in clusters, like bees, on the side of the rigging facing our ship:  a guard of marines, under arms, was placed along each gangway, but on board of our ship they were on the quarter-deck.  Two boats from each ship lay off upon their oars alongside of us, with a lieutenant’s and a corporal’s guard in each, with fixed bayonets.  The hands were all turned up by the boatswain and his mates with a shrill whistle, and calling down each hatchway, “All hands attend punishment!”

You now heard the quick trampling of feet up the ladders, but not a word was spoken.  The prisoners stood on the middle of the quarter-deck, while the captain read the sentence of the court-martial and the order from the commander-in-chief for the execution The appropriate prayers and psalms having been read by the chaplain, with much feeling and devotion, the poor men were asked if they were ready; they both replied in the affirmative, but each requested to have a glass of wine, which was instantly brought.  They drank it off, bowing most respectfully to the captain and officers.

The admiral did not appear, it not being etiquette; but the prisoners desired to be kindly and gratefully remembered to him; they then begged to shake hands with the captain and all the officers, which having done, they asked permission to address the ship’s company.  The captain ordered them all to come aft on the top and quarter-deck.  The most profound silence reigned, and there was not an eye but had a tear in it.