Tempest went patiently and impassively through the drill with the rest of us; but, as we could see, with a blazing eye fixed all the while on the master.

But I could guess the struggle that was going on in my friend's breast.

Mr Jarman may have flattered himself he was "taking it out of him", Dicky and I knew better.
We all took our cue from Tempest that morning, and any inclination to rebel or mutiny was suppressed.

We contented ourselves with glaring at our tormentor, and denying him the excuse he probably desired of prolonging the agony.

My impression is that Mr Jarman was never so happy as when he realised that he was absolute master of the situation.
The Roman emperors were not in it with him.
"Attention! Front!" said he at last, when the proceedings were becoming dull even to him.