"My name was not called, and the rank thinned out till there were only a few of us left.

I began to think that some special punishment was being reserved for me, and that the captain was waiting so he could think it over.

What my offence was I could not imagine; my conscience was clear, I vow.

As I stood there in the sun I thought over the last few days, and made a confession to myself, but couldn't think of anything very wicked.
Had I unintentionally blocked a marine sentry's way and thus interfered with him in the performance of his duty?
I had visions at this point of myself in the 'brig,' existing on bread and water.

Had I inadvertently gone into 'Cutlet's' pet after wheel-house?
I was in a brown study, conjuring up imaginary misdeeds, when a voice sounded in my ear: 'Here, my man; what do you want ?' I looked around, dazed, at the captain, who stood by, the closed report book in his hand.