announced in a fit of anger my willingness to be thrashed or thrash
him if the thing was repeated. It was not only repeated at once, but
seizing a lump of dough, he hurled it at my head. I ducked my head and
it hit another man on the jaw, but the gauntlet was on the floor and
an hour afterward the port side of the gun deck was a mass of solidly
packed sailors and marines. My brethren came to me one after another.
They quoted scores of texts to make me uncomfortable. I tried to joke,
but my lips were parched and my tongue unwilling to act. I was pale
and trembling. I knew what I was up against, but determined to see it
through. One text only I could remember in this exigency and I quoted
it to Lanky Lawrence, the big sailmaker who was the leader of our
sect. "Lanky, m' boy," I said to him, "I'm goin' to hing m' hat on one
text fur the space of a good thrashin'."

"What is it?" asked the sailmaker.

"'As much as lieth in ye, live peaceably wid all men.' Now I have done
that same, and bedad, I have done it to the limit and I'm goin' to
jump into this physical continshun so that of out it I will bring
pace!"

"Ye're all wrong!" said the sailmaker.

"I know it, but from the straight-lacedness of your theology I want a
vacation, Lanky, just for the space that it takes to get a lickin' wan
way or th' other." So the thing began. My chief endeavour was to
escape punishment, but the space was exceedingly small between the two
big guns and I didn't succeed very well. During the first five minutes
I was very badly bruised and beaten. One of my ribs was broken and
both eyes almost closed. Half the time I could not see the bully at