on the poop to
see this sight. The bait, consisting of a large piece of pork, had
invited this monster, which was now writhing in pain in the water.
The gunnery instructor shot it, and with a jigger we hauled it
aboard. It was then cut open, and a dexterous marine took out its
back-bone, which he cleaned and varnished, and passing a steel rod
through the various parts made an admirable walking-stick.

Rowing ashore in the cutter one morning I espied on the landing steps
of the pier at Jamaica a large octopus. It had been left high and
dry, and was therefore "like a fish out of water." Understanding it
was a deadly enemy, I seized a long boat-hook, with which I pierced
it to death; then drawing near, I examined it thoroughly, and counted
its suckers.

I was at this time put in charge of the small-arm magazine, and
whenever the ship was in mock-action--usually on Friday mornings--it
was my duty to descend into the magazine, and hook on boxes of
ammunition, which were pulled up by marines to the lower deck.
Carriers would then run away to the upper deck with them, from which
place they would be hoisted aloft, for the sharp-shooters in the fore
and main tops. The duty of the men aloft in the time of war would be
to shoot the officers on board the enemy's ships.

Occasionally the bugle would sound 'Action' by night. No specified
night was set apart for this evolution, hence it always came as a
surprise. "Coming events cast their shadow before," but this is not
applicable to 'Action' by night at sea; it is left entirely to the
captain's pleasure. The response to the bugle call is a sight never
to be forgotten. Every man dresses hurriedly--no, that is the wrong
word, for I have known them in their haste put the leg of their
trousers over their head in mistake for their jumpers, and others,
including myself, put their feet through the sleeves of the jumper,
mistaking them for trousers. And what wonder such errors are made,
when at sea no light is allowed on the lower deck by night, and all
is like sevenfold darkness! Each man has to put three hitches around
his hammock--seven are the uniform number--but the enemy is in sight,
therefore three hitches have to suffice to keep blanket and bedding
together. The hammock is then unhooked, and if the bluejacket belongs
to the former part of the ship, he has to bear it away for storage on
the topgallant forecastle; if to the after-part, he carries it away
to the poop. The reason fo