But the watch had been his mother's gift, and he was resolute never to part with it into such hands.
"Very well, you young shaver, I shall tell the skipper and he'll soon get it out of you as your footing, depend on it." The fellow was as good as his word, and the skipper demanded the watch as pay for Eric's feed, for he maintained that he'd done no work, and was perfectly useless.

Eric, grown desperate, still refused, and the man struck him brutally on the face, and at the same time aimed a kick at him, which he vainly tried to avoid.

It caught him on the knee-cap, and put it out, causing him the most excruciating agony.
He now could do no work whatever, not even swab the deck.

It was only with difficulty that he could limp along, and every move caused him violent pain.

He grew listless and dejected, and sat all day on the vessel's side, eagerly straining his eyes to catch any sight of land, or gazing vacantly into the weary sameness of sea and sky.
Once, when it was rather gusty weather, all hands were wanted, and the skipper ordered him to furl a sail.
"I can't," said Eric, in an accent of despair, barely stirring, and not lifting his eyes to the man's unfeeling face.
"Can't, d---- you.