As the commanding officer had not humanity enough to order my wounds to be dressed, and I could not use my own hands, I desired one of my fellow captives who was unfettered, to take a handkerchief out of my pocket, and tie it round my head, to stop the bleeding.

He pulled out my handkerchief, 'tis true, but instead of applying it to the use for which I designed it, went to the grating of the hatchway, and, with astonishing composure, sold it before my face to a bumboat woman (1) then on board, for a quart of gin, with which he treated his companions, regardless of my circumstances and entreaties.
(1) A Bumboat woman is one who sells bread, cheese, greens, liquor, and fresh potatoes to the sailors, in a small boat that lies alongside the ship I complained bitterly of this robbery to the midshipman on deck, telling him at the same time, that unless my hurts were dressed, I should bleed to death.

But compassion was a weakness of which no man could justly accuse this person, who, squirting a mouthful of dissolved tobacco upon me through the gratings, told me "I was a mutinous dog, and that I might die for anything he cared!" Finding there was no other remedy, I appealed to patience, and laid up this usage in my memory, to be called at a more fitting opportunity.

In the meantime, loss of blood, vexation, and want of food, contributed, with the noisome stench of the place, to throw me into a swoon, out of which I was recovered by a tweak of the nose, administered by the tar who stood sentinel over us, who at the same time regaled me with a draught of flip, and comforted me with the hopes of being put on board of the Thunder next day, where I should be freed of my handcuffs, and cured of my wounds by the doctor.

I no sooner heard him name the Thunder, than I asked if he had belonged to that ship long; and be giving me to understand he had belonged to her five years, I inquired if he knew Lieutenant Bowling?
"Know Lieutenant Bowling!" said he, "Odds my life! and that I do; and a good seaman he is as ever stepped upon forecastle, and a brave fellow as ever cracked biscuit--none of your Guinea pigs, nor your fresh water, wish-washy, fair-weather fowls.