Jonathon could do nothing but whimper as he was held by both arms, about ready to be tied to the ships cannon. It was 1684, he had been "drafted" into the Kings fleet to serve as a junior midshipmen at the age of 14. Like all of the boys on board, he knew that punishment for various offences was a bare-bottomed flogging in front of the crew. He had fallen asleep on his night watch, caught by the Captain himself, and had been sentenced to 36 strokes of a birch rod, bare and in public. Jonathon was mortified.

The birchings were extremely painful, amounting to a flogging just short of the seriousness of one with a cat-o-nine tails that the men sometimes recieved. All of the ships crew was summoned and waited for the final preparation. Finally, Jonathon was led up to the cannon, bent over, and his hands were tied securely with ropes extending from the ships deck. A sailor read to the crew the offense and finally the sentence that was to be imposed. Jonathons pants and underwear were pulled down unceremoniously, and he was at this point bent over and exposed to the entire ships crew, about 185 men. The boys were brought to the front of the crowd and ordered to watch the entire flogging.

Jonathon was scared and humiliated. 185 people were about to watch him get flogged on the naked buttocks on the high seas. When it was over, his butt would be left on display for an hour or so, bright red and welted, as a reminder to others. They would hear his screams and watch as he instinctively tried to loose himself.

"Administer the punishment," cried the ships Captain. The quartermaster picked up the birch rod, made up of 10-12 switches tied together. The effect was that each stroke amounted to 10 lashes. They had been soaking in brine overnight so as not to tear the skin. The quartermaster walked behind Jonathon, raised his hand with birch rod, and brought the instrument down hard across the waiting buttocks of his victim. The sting of the lash was incredible and Jonathon clenched his small butt cheeks as hard as he could, thinking this would somehow lessen the pain. Of course it did not. He couldn't imagine how he could take 35 more. Before he could gather his thoughts the second lash fell and Jonathon screamed in pain, already with tears running down his face.

With each lash, Jonathon clenched his bottom and bucked forward as much as he could. The crew watched as his once white bottom became welted and red and quivered uncontrollably. Each last evoked a scream and clenching cheeks. After the first 12 strokes, a new birch was brought to the quartermaster. There was no mercy for young Jonathon, he would recieve he full 36 strokes regardless of his pathetic cries for it stop. At 12 strokes, his bottom was on fire, and welted.

The birch rod fell across Jonathons bared and quivering butt 24 more times. There were no more screams after the 20th lash, only a grunt, as his butt became numb to the sting, only absorbing the lash for the purpose of the damage and pain that would be felt for days to come.