{"id":"01KG8AMJBAFZJMKR62CWJCQCEX","cid":"bafkreifc3tdqvw35pcpzkx7vgwyykzcllzf54hvf5ct7c5dbbekrms43ua","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":5275,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:36.270Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 2","source_file":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","start_line":5204,"text":"At the summons the crew crowded round the main-mast; multitudes eager\r\nto obtain a good place on the booms, to overlook the scene; many\r\nlaughing and chatting, others canvassing the case of the culprits; some\r\nmaintaining sad, anxious countenances, or carrying a suppressed\r\nindignation in their eyes; a few purposely keeping behind to avoid\r\nlooking on; in short, among five hundred men, there was every possible\r\nshade of character.\r\n\r\nAll the officers—midshipmen included—stood together in a group on the\r\nstarboard side of the main-mast; the First Lieutenant in advance, and\r\nthe surgeon, whose special duty it is to be present at such times,\r\nstanding close by his side.\r\n\r\nPresently the Captain came forward from his cabin, and stood in the\r\ncentre of this solemn group, with a small paper in his hand. That paper\r\nwas the daily report of offences, regularly laid upon his table every\r\nmorning or evening, like the day’s journal placed by a bachelor’s\r\nnapkin at breakfast.\r\n\r\n“Master-at-arms, bring up the prisoners,” he said.\r\n\r\nA few moments elapsed, during which the Captain, now clothed in his\r\nmost dreadful attributes, fixed his eyes severely upon the crew, when\r\nsuddenly a lane formed through the crowd of seamen, and the prisoners\r\nadvanced—the master-at-arms, rattan in hand, on one side, and an armed\r\nmarine on the other—and took up their stations at the mast.\r\n\r\n“You John, you Peter, you Mark, you Antone,” said the Captain, “were\r\nyesterday found fighting on the gun-deck. Have you anything to say?”\r\n\r\nMark and Antone, two steady, middle-aged men, whom I had often admired\r\nfor their sobriety, replied that they did not strike the first blow;\r\nthat they had submitted to much before they had yielded to their\r\npassions; but as they acknowledged that they had at last defended\r\nthemselves, their excuse was overruled.\r\n\r\nJohn—a brutal bully, who, it seems, was the real author of the\r\ndisturbance—was about entering into a long extenuation, when he was cut\r\nshort by being made to confess, irrespective of circumstances, that he\r\nhad been in the fray.\r\n\r\nPeter, a handsome lad about nineteen years old, belonging to the\r\nmizzen-top, looked pale and tremulous. He was a great favourite in his\r\npart of the ship, and especially in his own mess, principally composed\r\nof lads of his own age. That morning two of his young mess-mates had\r\ngone to his bag, taken out his best clothes, and, obtaining the\r\npermission of the marine sentry at the “brig,” had handed them to him,\r\nto be put on against being summoned to the mast. This was done to\r\npropitiate the Captain, as most captains love to see a tidy sailor. But\r\nit would not do. To all his supplications the Captain turned a deaf\r\near. Peter declared that he had been struck twice before he had\r\nreturned a blow. “No matter,” said the Captain, “you struck at last,\r\ninstead of reporting the case to an officer. I allow no man to fight on\r\nboard here but myself. I do the fighting.”\r\n\r\n“Now, men,” he added, “you all admit the charge; you know the penalty.\r\nStrip! Quarter-masters, are the gratings rigged?”\r\n\r\nThe gratings are square frames of barred wood-work, sometimes placed\r\nover the hatchways. One of these squares was now laid on the deck,\r\nclose to the ship’s bulwarks, and while the remaining preparations were\r\nbeing made, the master-at-arms assisted the prisoners in removing their\r\njackets and shirts. This done, their shirts were loosely thrown over\r\ntheir shoulders.\r\n\r\nAt a sign from the Captain, John, with a shameless leer, advanced, and\r\nstood passively upon the grating, while the bare-headed old\r\nquarter-master, with grey hair streaming in the wind, bound his feet to\r\nthe cross-bars, and, stretching out his arms over his head, secured\r\nthem to the hammock-nettings above. He then retreated a little space,\r\nstanding silent.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 2"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJRBPHFFD3WM83WT59YBT","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AMJBEESH682191X4GY6E5","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AMJBAQAD6N0M7GPDR34R6","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:41.322Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:46.861Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}