CHAPTER EIGHT.
"A FRIEND IN NEED." Jorrocks had no option but, first, to proceed to pinion us, and then tie us separately to the windlass, using us as kindly as he could in the operation and with a sympathising expression on his face--that said as plainly as looks could speak, "I am really very sorry for this; but I told you what you might expect, and I can't help it!" He afterwards went aft to the skipper's cabin, bringing forwards from thence a stout piece of cord, with the ends frayed into lashes like those of a whip, which had evidently seen a good deal of service.

This "cat" he handed deferentially to the commander of the brig; who, seizing it firmly in his right fist, and holding the handspike still in his left, as if to be prepared for all emergencies, began to lay stroke upon stroke on our shoulders with a dexterity which Dr Hellyer would have envied, without being able to rival.
It was the most terrible thrashing that either Tom or myself had ever experienced before; and, long ere the skipper's practised arm had tired, our fortitude broke down so, that we had fairly to cry for mercy.
"You'll never stow yourself away on board my brig again, will you ?" asked our flagellator of each of us alternately, with an alternate lash across our backs to give emphasis to his question, making us jump up from the deck and quiver all over, as we tried in vain to wriggle out of the lashings with which we were tied.
"No, I won't," screamed out Tom, the tears running down his cheeks from the pain of the ordeal.

"I'll promise you never to put my foot within a mile of her, if you let me off!" "And so will I, too," I bawled out quickly, following suit to Tom.
I can really honestly aver that we both meant what we said, most sincerely! "All right then, you young beggars; that'll do for your first lesson.
The thrashing will pay your footing for coming aboard without leave.
Jorrocks, you can cut these scamps down now, and find them something to do in the fo'c's'le--make 'em polish the ring-bolts if there's nothing else on hand!" So saying, the skipper, satisfied with taking our passage money out of our hides, walked away aft; while Jorrocks began to cast loose our lashings, with many whispered words of comfort, which he was afraid to utter aloud, mixed up with comments on the captain's conduct.
"He's a rough customer to deal with--as tough as they make 'em," said he, confidentially, removing the last bight round Tom's body and setting him free; "but, he's all there!" "So he is," said Tom, with much decision, rubbing his sore shoulders.
"I will vouch for the truth of that statement!" "And, when he says he'll do a thing, he allys does it," continued Jorrocks, in testimony to the skipper's firmness of purpose.
"He won't flog _me_ again," said Tom, savagely, in answer to the boatswain's last remark.
"Nor me," I put in.
"Ah, you'd better keep quiet till you're ashore ag'in," advised our friend, meaningly.

"You won't find much more harm in him than you've done already; and bye-and-bye, when he's got used to seeing you about, he'll be as soft and easy as butter." "Oh yes, I can well believe that!" said Tom, ironically; but then, acting on the advice of Jorrocks, although more to save him from getting into a scrape on our behalf, than from any fear of further molestation from the skipper, against whom our hearts were now hardened, we bustled about the fo'c's'le, pretending to be awfully busy coiling down the slack of the jib halliards, and doing other odd jobs forward.
Up to this time, neither of us had an opportunity of casting a glance over the vessel to see where she was, our attention from the moment we gained the deck having been entirely taken up by the proceedings of the little drama I have just narrated, which prevented us from making any observations of the _mise en scene_, whether inboard or over the side.
Now, however, having a chance of looking about me, my first glance was up aloft; and I noticed that the brig was under all plain sail, running before the wind, which was almost dead aft.

Being "light," that is having no cargo on board beyond such ballast as was required to ensure her stability when heeling over, she was rolling a good deal, lurching from side to side as her canvas filled out to the breeze, with every fresh puff of air.
Away to the left, over our port beam, I could see land in the distance, which Jorrocks told me was the North Foreland--near Margate--a place that I knew by name of course, although this information did not give me any accurate idea of the brig's whereabouts; but, later on in the day, when the vessel had run some fifteen or twenty miles further, steering to the north-east, with the wind to the southward of west, we passed through a lot of brackish mud-coloured water, close to a light-ship, that my friend the boatswain said was the Kentish Knock, midway between the mouth of the Thames and wash of the Humber, and it was only then that I realised the fact, that we were running up the eastern coast of England and were well on our way to Newcastle, for which port, as I've intimated before, we were bound.
"Hurrah!" exclaimed Tom, when I mentioned this to him.