ut' is transferred from the topgallant
forecastle to the forecross trees, or, if sail is set, to the
foretopsail yard. Many an hour have I spent, from time to time, on
the topsail yard, often sick and giddy, when the ship has been
rolling and dipping. Thoughts of home would gather in my mind, and
there aloft, where no human eye could see, have I cried aloud, giving
vent to my pent-up feelings. Sick, I say, yes, and bareheaded, using
my cap for a sanitary purpose, rather than get into trouble by being
sick overt the sails.

At 9 a.m. is the inspection of uniform, followed by prayers. Should
it be Tuesday or Thursday, rifles and cutlasses are inspected, and
each man is supposed to wear his boots. This to many is hateful. In
my watch was a man named Timothy Hennesy, who on 'small-arm' days
would bind with spun-yarn his big toe, thereby giving the inspecting
officer the impression he had hurt it, and was in consequence excused
from wearing his boots.

Following this inspection, one watch goes below to make or mend their
clothes, and the other remains on deck until noon. Dinner is piped,
but it is not very tempting to one's appetite. Salt pork or beef with
preserved potatoes form the menu. Spending the greater part of the
three years at sea, our share of salt food was abundant, and in order
to prevent scurvy, lime-juice was distributed.

After this meal the watches change again, the forenoon watch below
going on deck until 4 p.m., the other remaining below.

I once endeavoured to make me a flannel. The stitches I must confess,
were long and irregular; but worse than that, when attaching the
sleeves to the main part, I misplaced end for end, so that when I
came to try on this novel garment the wide part hung in bights around
my wrist, the narrow part fitting tightly round my arm. So much for
my reversed sleeves. No more sowing engaged my time in the watch
below.

At 4 p.m. tea is piped. It consists of a basin of tea minus milk, and
a small allowance of hard biscuit. Food being so scanty in the navy,
the sailors apply this appellation to their mess, 'The Drum,' thus
signifying that as far as food is concerned the mess is as empty as a
drum. "Which drum do you belong to?" they ask.

Half an hour being allowed for tea, then another inspection of the
crew in night clothing takes place. Sail drill is then engaged in for
a couple of hours, and the routine of the day is brought to an end by
the washing of clothes.

At twil