at every step to go headlong overboard.

A good-natured sailor, seeing the fix I was in, gave me a helping hand,
and up I crawled as far as the maintop. This, I must explain to my
non-nautical reader, is not the mast-head, but a comparatively
comfortable half-way resting-place, from whence one can look about
feeling somewhat secure.

On looking down to the deck my heart bled to see the poor sailor who had
helped me undergoing punishment for his kind act. I heard myself at the
same time ordered 'to go higher,' and a little higher I did go. Then I
stopped, frightened to death, and almost senseless; terror, however,
seemed to give me presence of mind to cling on, and there I remained
till some hours afterwards; then I was called down. On reaching the deck
I fainted, and knew no more till I awoke after some time in my hammock.

Now, I ask anyone, even a martinet at heart, whether such treatment of a
boy, not thirteen years of age, putting his life into the greatest
danger, taking this first step towards breaking his spirit, and in all
probability making him, as most likely had been done to the poor men I
had seen flogged that morning, into a hardened mutinous savage, was not
disgraceful?

Moreover, it was as close akin to murder as it could be, for I don't
know how it was I didn't fall overboard, and then nothing could have
saved my life. However, as I didn't fall, I was not drowned, and the
effect on me was curious enough. For all I had seen and suffered on that
the opening day of my sea-life made me think for the first time--and I
have never ceased thinking (half a century has passed since then)--how
to oppose tyranny in every shape. Indeed, I have always done so to such