Number Three, the food
ought to be better; the water ought to be better. We can't live on rum,
maggoty bread, and foul water--that's sure. The rum's all right; it's
powerful natural stuff, but we ought to have meat that doesn't stink,
and bread that isn't alive. What's more, we ought to have lots of lime-
juice, or there's no protection for us when we're out at sea with the
best meat taken by the officers and the worst left to us; and with foul
water and rotten food, there's no hope or help. But, if we're going in
for this sort of thing, we ought to do it decently. We can't slap a
government in the mouth, and we can't kick an admiral without paying
heavy for it in the end. If it's wholesome petitioning you're up to,
I'm with you; but I'm not if there's to be knuckle-dusting."
Ferens shrugged a shoulder.
"Things are movin', and we've got to take our stand now when the time is
ripe for it, or else lose it for ever. Over at Spithead they're gettin'
their own way. The government are goin' to send the Admiralty Board down
here, because our admiral say to them that it won't be safe goin' unless
they do."
"And what are we going to do here?" asked Dyck. "What's the game of the
fleet at the Nore?"
Ferens replied in a low voice:
"Our men are goin' to send out petitions--to the Admiralty and to the
House of Commons."
"Why don't you try Lord Howe?"
"He's not in command of a fleet now. Besides, petitions have been sent
him, and he's taken no notice.
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