and strength. The ebb tide, too, was making strong out of Portsmouth
Harbour, and a fresh breeze was blowing in, creating a tumbling,
bubbling sea at the mouth; and vessels and boats of all sizes and rigs
were dashing here and there, madly and without purpose it seemed to me,
but at all events very likely to run down the low narrow craft in which
I had ventured to embark. Now and then a man-of-war's boat, with
half-a-dozen reckless midshipmen in her, who looked as if they would not
have the slightest scruple in sailing over us, would pass within a few
inches of the wherry; now a ship's launch with a party of marines,
pulling with uncertain strokes like a huge maimed centipede, would come
right across our course and receive old Bob's no very complimentary
remarks; next a boatful of men-of-war's men, liberty men returning from
leave. There was no use saying anything to them, for there wasn't one,
old Bob informed me, but what was "three sheets in the wind," or "half
seas over,"--in other words, very drunk; still, they managed to find
their way and not to upset themselves, in a manner which surprised me.
Scarcely were we clear of them when several lumbering dockyard lighters
would come dashing by, going out with stores or powder to the fleet at
Spithead.

Those were indeed busy times. Numerous ships of war were fitting out
alongside the quays, their huge yards being swayed up, and guns and
stores hoisted on board, gruff shouts, and cries, and whistles, and
other strange sounds proceeding from them as we passed near. Others lay
in the middle of the harbour ready for sea, but waiting for their crews
to be collected by the press-gangs on shore, and to be made up with
captured smugglers, liberated gaol-birds, and broken-down persons from
every grade of society. Altogether, what with transports, merchantmen,
lighters, and other craft, it was no easy matter to beat out without
getting athwart hawse of those at anchor, or being run down by the still
greater number of small craft under way. Still it was an animated and
exciting scene, and all told of active warfare.

On shore the bustle was yet more apparent. Everybody was in movement.
Yellow post-chaises conveying young captains of dashing frigates, or
admirals' private secretaries, came whirling through the streets as if
the fate of the nation depended on their speed. Officers of all grades,
from post-captains with glittering epaulets to midshipmen with white
patches