gun-room. The Bacchante's gun-room is a cabin eight feet broad, fourteen long, and seven high, on the starboard side of the ship. A table in the middle takes up most of the space: it is rather a close fit when we sit down a dozen or fourteen round it for meals. On three sides of the gun-room are the lockers for seats, they are of mahogany with leathern cushions. Above overhead, of the same wood, is a deep shelf, which is crammed full of books and nautical instruments, some in and some out of boxes, dirks of all kinds, some bright, and some the worse for wear, telescopes, backgammon and chess boards, writing desks, photograph albums, and an omnium gatherum of midshipmen's belongings thrown together, and evidently pulled out and shoved in pretty frequently. The bulkheads of the gun-room are painted white. There are two ports in the ship's side that face you on entering, a large and a small: the latter is two feet square, the former three feet by four, and is constructed so that the upper half can be opened, and the lower left closed; and this is the more prudent course to adopt when not in harbour, unless you wish to have a sea lopping in. At the after end is a large lookingglass, occupying the whole width, which brightens up and gives an appearance of greater size to the place. On the other two sides hang four pictures, one of them is of the Prince and another is of the Princess of Wales. If you lift the curtain that hangs in front of either of the doors that open on to the half-deck, and come in, you will probably find several sleeping forms stretched full length on the locker cushions, for sea air makes you drowsy on a warm afternoon, more especially when you have kept the middle watch the night before. Other mids will be either making up their logs and watch bills, or perhaps tracing charts, or finishing up a watercolour drawing, or reading.

At the left-hand end is the sliding window which separates the gun-room from the steward's pantry. He is generally at hand, and when hailed "inside there," hands out tea or cocoa, biscuits, sherry and bitters, brandies and sodas, or whatever you may be pleased to take or call for. Now come forward on the foc'sle again, which is the coolest place as there is not a breath of wind stirring, and see the whales spouting in the distance on both sides of the ship; they might almost be taken for sail on the horizon; they are all going south. At 8 P.M. resumed our proper course.

April 16th.-Exercised at general quarters, firing shot and shell at a target; for Friday is always the day specially devoted to great

gun exercise. As soon as the daily prayers (at 9 A.M.) are over the bugle sounds "exercise action." The mess tables are all cleared away between the guns on the main deck, for they, as well as the forms, on which the men sit at them, are so constructed that their metal legs will fold up, so that they may be stowed away at once overhead between the beams. Then the magazines and shell room are opened, dummy cartridges are passed up, and all the motions are gone through, as if the time were come for going into action. The fire hoses lie on the deck coiled up, ready to be screwed on to the pumps if necessary, to cope with what is the deadliest foe on board a ship. The guns are loaded and run out, and trained in such directions as may be ordered. The men are armed with their rifles, cutlasses, and pistols, and companies are exercised, not only in the defence of their own ship, but also in preparations for boarding an enemy. Quickness as well as

accuracy of detail in drill is thus perfected. The men work with a will, and one gun is drilled for time against another, and tossed about like a plaything under the eye of the midshipman who has charge of each, or the lieutenant whose station is at that particular portion of the deck. Sometimes, as English bluejackets are apt to get excited, and through desire to be quick are careless, or if there is any talking, (for of course no word is allowed all this time to be spoken by any one, except the necessary commands), and as it is important that each man should know and understand the smallest detail of his duties, so that no question should take him aback, and no change to another number at the gun should find him unpreparedin the midst of all this activity, the bugle sounds the "Still"-three notes-which instantly causes every man and boy to remain just as he may be, perfectly immovable: and then the captain's voice, or that

of the commander, from the bridge can be heard by each man, giving his orders distinctly, upbraiding or directing as the case may be, until the bugle sounds again "Carry on," and all fall to with increased exertion to do their duty. As the guns are fired the smoke rolls and curls all along the main deck, as the breeze from above or through the ports blows it inboard, but only for a few moments, and the smell of the gunpowder floats away to sea. Down below in the sick bay, the doctor waits in case any casualty be brought to him to require attention: and occasionally a man is told off, though hale and hearty, to be carried down in a cot, in order to practise the men in the way of handling the sick or wounded. When there is actual firing at a target, dinner is usually half an hour later. On ordinary Fridays, quarters are over by 11.30 or seven bells.

In the afternoon, as a light westerly wind sprang up, we made sail. After evening quarters, gymnastics, bright and fresh. At 10 P.M. went to "night-quarters," which is merely a repetition of the ordinary General Quarters' drill, except that when the bugle unexpectedly sounds at night, every man of the watch below is asleep in his hammock, and has, in addition to what was described in the morning, at once to turn out, lash it up, bring it on deck, and stow it away in the hammock nettings. At night the men's hammocks are slung from the beams all along the main deck over the mess tables and guns. The former have now to be cleared away, and the latter cast loose, with the clatter of the chains which hold them firm in their several places, and by the light of the battle lanterns, instead of by that of day. Night quarters must take place at least once a quarter, but of course no notice is given beforehand: in order that the greater test may be given to the men's preparedness for any emergency. To-night, after firing two electric broadsides with blank cartridges, and making a fine flare up of light and a grand crash of sound in the. dark stillness of mid-ocean, we turned in again.

April 17th.-From 9.30 to 12.30 preparing for action aloft, sending down top-gallant masts, unbending sails, &c. After the dinner hour made plain sail.

April 18th.-Very nice breeze from the south-west, so at 5.30 A.M. set starboard stunsails, and at 8 A.M. stopped steaming. The usual Sunday services. After dinner up screw; the breeze increasing we make over ten knots. Moon and stars out. The midshipmen are asleep in their hammocks, which are slung in the steerage, so

close alongside each other that they are almost touching; in the same way their large chests containing their clothes, are closely packed together on the deck of the steerage. At midnight the boatswain's mate pipes "call the watch, watch to muster." The middle watch having been roused out from their hammocks some minutes previously, fall in on the quarter-deck. The midshipman of the watch, who has also just been roused from sleep, stands with his watch bill, and the corporal with his lantern, at the capstan. He reads out their names, to which they answer one by one, passing in front of him at the same time: when the last man of the watch has answered to his name, the midshipman of the watch reports "all present" to the lieutenant on the bridge, who then orders reliefs to fall in, and the men of the watch now on deck go to their several stations.

April 19th.-A rainy and squally morning. At 4.30 A.M., whilst reefing, a heavy squall from the southward struck the ship, carrying away the fore top-gallant mast short above the cap, and the crossjack yard in the slings; split the jib, the foretopmast staysail, and fore and mizen top-gallant sails. After this the wind fell light and down came the rain. At 6 P.M. swayed up cross-jack yard, the carpenters having repaired it.

April 20th.-Dead calm all night, noise of wash under counter as we roll lazily on the swell. At 9 A.M. down screw, and at 10 A.M. shortened and furled sails, pointed the yards to the wind and proceeded under steam. To-day we got into water of a dirty bottlegreen, said to be caused by the ice melted from the Newfoundland banks; though its temperature was only 65° and that of the air 61° there was a damp fishy smell with it. The wind is shifting all round the compass, and in the afternoon we are under sail for a time, but the wind drawing ahead round to the south-east we have to furl sails and steam. The Gulf Stream has carried us thirty-five miles eastward during the last twenty-four hours and at noon we are 1,865 miles from the Lizard. When the Challenger sounded in the Gulf Stream between Bermuda and Halifax, the current was too strong in the middle to allow the sounding line to reach the bottom, but the thermometer gave the temperature at various depths, and showed that the passage from the warm stream to the colder water which surrounded it was singularly abrupt, the warm current flowing like a river between two banks of cold.

April 21st. This morning we are out into the blue water again. At 8 A.M. exchanged colours with an English clipper with eighteen

sails set on her and standing westward. There is a fresh feeling in the air and we can see the mist over the edge of the Gulf Stream that we have left astern. At 2.30 P.M. stopped engines, and after evening quarters up screw, as what little wind there is enables us to go three knots under sail. Next day wind squally from the south south-east, sailing along close-hauled averaging four knots; pouring with rain all day. On Friday the wind drew round to the south, and we made an average of six knots.

April 25th.-At daylight one sail in sight. Stiff breeze from the south-west. At 9.15 A.M. weather fine, topsail yard-arm carried away, the stunsail being set at the time. No Sunday morning service as the men were on deck repairing damages. Wet and miserable; but the wind is in a favourable quarter, and we are going along eight knots; after evening quarters have evening service all right; and as it was the last Sunday in the month, we had our Bacchante Hymn for Absent Friends, as well as one of the regular Hymns for Those at Sea. This we used to do the last Sunday in every month regularly as long as the ship was in commission, and the men all sang the words with heart and soul, for their friends at home knew our practice, and we often thought they were joining too, though separated from us by thousands of miles.