He went on for quite a long time; but nothing further ever came of it. He knew well enough that he had brought it on himself, and thereafter he became rather more particular over the matter of providing meals.
It must not be imagined that the inhabitants of the _Belligerent_'s gunroom always behaved like this. On the contrary, they were an unusually well-conducted mess, and they broke out only when they were really exasperated, and their feelings got the better of them.
The sub, assisted by the senior 'snotties,' had drilled the Crabs into a high state of discipline and efficiency. He believed in using the terror of the stick as a deterrent rather than in employing the weapon itself, and as a consequence the junior midshipmen were never beaten really hard unless they misbehaved themselves. But as Cook himself once remarked, 'You can bet your bottom dollar that for every sin they've been bowled out committing, there are fully fifty more that we haven't discovered;' and there was some truth in the remark.
One of the methods of smartening up the Crabs was an evolution known as 'fork in the beam.' This was a time-honoured custom which must have started in the days of wooden sailing-ships, since it is hardly possible to stick an ordinary table-fork into the steel beams of a modern vessel. It generally took place during dinner, when the younger members of the mess had been making too much noise.
The sub, standing up at his place at the end of the table, would insinuate a fork into the electric wires overhead, and at this signal all the junior midshipmen and the assistant-clerk had to leave the mess, scamper twice round the boat-deck, and return in the shortest possible time. In the old-time evolution itself the 'snotties' used to run up the rigging and over the masthead, but Cook substituted the race round the boat-deck as being less dangerous. The last officer back had to repeat the performance; and, as the loser generally found that somebody had drunk his beer during his absence, there was always great competition to be away first. It usually started by a seething mass of seven Crabs being stuck in the doorway. After much struggling and pushing, they would eventually fall through into the flat amidst shrill yelps from the young gentlemen who happened to be underneath, and remarks of 'Get off my face!' 'Ow! let go my leg, you beast!' Then, sorting themselves out one by one, they would dart off, to return a few minutes later flushed and breathless after their exercise.