“And there on reef we come to grief,
Which has often occurred to we.”

Hail, all hail, to the glad new year! What though there be no crisp seasonable snow, no exhilarating frost, no cosy chimney nooks, or no ladies muffs and comfortable ulsters? Let us joy at his birth all the same, for does he not mark another year nearer the end? of the commission I mean.

And now to work. At the annual inspection of our heavy guns it was found that three at least were so defective in the bore that it was necessary to condemn them, and replace them by new ones. This entailed a terrible amount of labour on our men. Hatchways had to be torn to pieces, and yards rigged with most ponderous blocks, and purchases for the safe transhipment of these iron playthings. Whatever may be urged against, there is this to be said in favour of such heavy and unusual evolutions, that observant men gain largely in practical experience and an extended acquaintance with the “might be’s” of their profession. Fortunately, in one sense, but few commissions afford such unwelcome opportunities as ours, for it has been one of accidental, rather than of meditated experiment.

In the midst of dismal rainy weather the business of refitting had to be pushed forward, previous to our going in dock; then coaling and painting in our ship separate work and provisioning, swallowed up the greater part of the month of January.

February 11th. To-day the “Tyne” arrived from England. To the expatiated seaman the arrival of a troopship has a greater interest than have ordinary arrivals; for has she not scarce two months since, perhaps, looked on the very scenes we so long to behold? She is thus a link between us and home. Then there is also the additional interest of seeing fresh faces, whilst to the more fortunate who are about to leave us she is the absorbing topic. She remained only eight days. On the occasion of her departure we were allowed to cheer a wonderful concession; at the same time we were given clearly to understand that we were to accept it in the light of a great privilege; and that there should be no mistake on this point, the commander conducted the arrangements with the order “Three cheers for H.M.S. ‘Tyne,’ homeward bound;” “And no extras,” added somebody in parenthesis.

And now came April 15th, not so rapidly as would appear from the above sketch; but it came, and with it the commencement of a second voyage to the northward.

In the interval between the sailing of the “Tyne” and our departure we were not idle. We had gone outside twice once at target practice and once on steam tactics. The “Armide,” French flag-ship, had left for Europe, and her relief, the “Themis,” had arrived on the station, losing several sheets of copper off her starboard bow on the passage up from Singapore.

It is curious to observe the different customs of foreign sailors when sailing, homeward bound. The French, for instance, rig up a dummy man and trice him up to the main top, where he is made to oscillate with a pendulum movement until he gains sufficient impetus to clear the side, when he is let go overboard amidst the cheering of the men. The Russians man yards, white caps in hand, which, after waving in the air to make their cheering more energetic, they fling into the sea.

But to return to April 15th. We had but cleared Hong Kong when we sighted the “Charybdis,” with the long pennant flying. Fortunate fellows! how long, I wonder, before we shall be similarly decorated? I write this almost three years afterwards, and still the question remains unanswered.

On the way we put in to White Dogs, in expectation of finding the “Vigilant” with our mail. The mails latterly have been very erratic in their arrivals, due to a change in the postal system at home. Henceforth there is to be no penny mail a fact which, seemingly, our friends have not yet grasped; hence it is no uncommon thing to go weeks without letters, and then suddenly to find oneself inundated with say six or eight billets doux.

The “Vigilant” was only a few hours behind us; and after giving us our mail she left for Foo-chow, with the admiral and captain on board.

That night we rode out a very stiff gale. The seas were so heavy that all ports had to be barred in, and even then, such was the violence of the storm that water was occasionally shipped through the upper battery ports. From the manner in which the cable “surged” and bumbed, it was deemed expedient to let go a second anchor, and to get up steam; for in the event of the wind chopping around nothing more likely we should be on a dead lee shore, and our only alternative to slip and go to sea. Still the gale increased, and still the one anchor and cable held. How the wind did howl and screech through our cordage! This lasted for over two days. On the third day the “Moorhen” came down from Foo-chow with our captain; and as there was still a big lump of a sea on, she capered about in the lively manner peculiar to gun vessels.

April 21st. We rounded the Shun-tung promontory in a thick fog, groped our way towards Chefoo in the same hazy atmosphere, and picked up our anchorage in nearly the same spot as last year, glad enough to get in anywhere out of such dangerous weather.

The cutter’s crew of the “Pegasus,” a day or two after our arrival, reminded us of a challenge they had previously thrown out, to pull any boat of similar size in our ship for forty-five dollars. Accordingly, one fine afternoon when the sea was as smooth as a pond, and on the occasion of a dance given by our officers, the contest came off. Contrary to the expectations of most, our boat beat almost without an effort. That same evening the “Lily’s,” with more pluck than discretion, tossed their oars under our bows. Well, like a great good-tempered Newfoundland dog, we can stand a deal of snapping at from insignificant puppies, but when at length their attacks begin to get acrimonious, we rise, and shake our shaggy coat; and in salt water language “go” for the torments. Thus we “went” for the “Lily’s,” beat them, and pocketed thirty-six dollars more.

On the arrival of the admiral a court-martial was held on a marine, of the “Mosquito,” for insubordination. I mention this because of the extreme sentence of the court twenty-five lashes with the “cat.” The admiral, though, came to the rescue, and with mercy seasoned justice, for he refused to sign the warrant for the punishment.

We left Chefoo for Japan, calling in at the Golo islands a group about 90 miles from Nagasaki on the way. ’Twas a lovely spot, and recent rains had made nature look all the fairer for her ablutions. The gentle breeze wafted off such a delightful fragrance of pine, fir, hay, and flowers, so welcome after China’s reeking smells. Slowly, and with caution, we wended our way up an intricate channel, meandering amongst the hills in a most striking and artistic manner, until further progress was barred, by the shores of a tiny bay, with a town at its head. We found ourselves so perfectly land-locked that everybody was wondering how we got in. Around us high volcanic hills, and under us, not a volcano but, between twenty and thirty fathoms of water. We could not anchor here, that was evident, so we set the spanker, slued about, and made tracks as rapidly as we could before the darkness should set in. Next morning we were at Nagasaki.

Early on the morning of the 29th of May we sailed for the eastward, by way of the Inland Seas. We turned slightly out of our course to call at Yobuko, a real bit of Japan, lovely and enchanting. We were objects of absorbing interest to the simple islanders. They wore very primitive and airy garments, some even none at all. They are not much like, in fact very unlike, a community of Japanese; for cleanliness amongst them is an “unknown quantity;” and their dwellings remind me very forcibly of the squalid dens in Chinese native towns. The people, though, were hospitable and kind to a degree, and highly glad to see us, offering us of their little sake and tea nor would they take money, or accept any payment, though we pressed it upon them. At first they were shy, following us about in curious, respectful, distant crowds; but seeing we treated their chubby little children kindly they soon made friends with us.

We reached Kobe in due course where nothing of moment took place, if we except a gale of wind which compelled our liberty-men much against their will, of course to remain on shore all night. “Well ’’tis an ill wind that blows nobody good,’ is it not?”

July 2nd. We are at Yokohama, and are a-taut; for to-day some members of the Japanese imperial family are to visit us. At noon they arrived amidst salvoes of artillery from the shore and from the Japanese men-of-war. The party consisted of prince Arisugawa’s father and sister, her maids of honor, and two admirals. The princess was of course the “lion” excuse the gender of the party. But how lost, how utterly bewildered, she looked in reaching our quarter-deck! like little Alice in wonderland. I hear it is the first time she has ever been afloat. Her style of dress is different to anything we have yet seen in this country. A red silk skirt clothed her lower limbs, whilst a transparent gauzy purple tunic, figured with the imperial emblem, fell from her shoulders to the ground. But her hair was what drew most of our attention, for it was the most remarkable piece of head architecture possible. How shall I describe it? Imagine a frying-pan inverted, its inner rim resting on the crown of the head, and the handle depending down the back, and you will have a correct, though a homely idea, of the fashion of her hair. Each individual hair seemed as if picked out from it fellows, stiffened by some process until it appeared like a wire bent into shape; gathered in and tied a little below the nape of the neck, and from thence downward traced into a queue. Hers was the ideal type of Japanese feature, so rarely seen amongst the common people, and considered so unlovely by Europeans. A long face, narrow straight nose, almond eyes, very obliquely set in the head, and a mouth so tiny, so thin the upper lip, that it looks more like a scarlet button than any thing designed for kissing.

She was childishly pleased at everything she saw whilst accompanying the admiral around the decks, twitching at his arm incessantly that she might indulge her curiosity as to hatchways, stoke-hole gratings, and so on; clapping her hands continually in the exuberance of her joy.

The “Modeste” accompanied us in our trip to the north on this occasion.

A few days out we called in at Kamaishi, in the neighbourhood of which are the imperial copper mines and smelting works. The people here lack the rosiness and freshness of face of the Japanese, and have a dowdy, sickly look, due, I suppose, to the unhealthy exhalations from the copper.

Instead of calling in at Hakodadi we continued on along the eastern coast of Yezo until we reached Endermo harbour, sentinelled at its entrance by a grim vomiting volcano which, in addition to its charred and fire-scored crater, has innumerable other little outlets in its sides, giving out jets of steam and sulphurous smoke until the very air is loaded with the oppressive vapour.

At the anchorage we saw the “Pegasus.”

Here we are then! in the country of Miss Bird’s Ainos, a people whom she describes as the most gentle and docile in the world. We had ample opportunity of making their acquaintance, for during our stay the decks were daily thronged with them. In these men the advocates of Darwinism might well behold the missing link. From head to heel they are covered with thick shaggy unkempt masses of hair; that on their heads and faces hanging down in wild elfish locks. They wear but scant raiment, a sort of over-all, which does not pretend to the use of even the most primitive covering. It is of the men I speak. Strangely enough, though, they all have their ears pierced, metal ornaments are not worn by any, but, instead, they have a thin strip of scarlet cloth, just simply placed through the hole. The women are strange looking creatures. Their garments are modest enough, far more so even than those of their southern sisters with whom, by the way, they have nothing in common, save their sex. Can it be that this is the primitive Japanese race that the more enlightened people of Niphon trace their origin to such a degraded source? I should be inclined to say no, if I did not remember that history furnishes us with so many parallel cases of similar degraded origin our own for example.

Well built, but oh! so ugly these women; and, as if nature had not done enough for them in this particular, they render their faces still more repulsive looking by tattooing the lips on the outside to the depth of an inch all around, elongating the mark at the corners. This, of course, does not tend to lessen the apparent size of an aperture, already suggestive of a main hatchway. This unhandsome, open, flat countenance, is also further decorated with bands of blue on the forehead. The females wear large rings of iron some few of silver in their ears.

Now, though of course I don’t pretend to the faithfulness of portraiture, nor to the accuracy of observation of the travelled lady I have before quoted, yet I must add that my estimate of this people, in my own small way, is antagonistic to hers. To me they are only a very little removed from savages. Their women seem to be in abject slavery to the men, and are treated by them in the most shameful manner. An instance, which came under my own observation, will perhaps shew this. Whilst on shore fishing, I had wandered away from the main party to where I saw a native engaged at work on an upturned canoe. Up the beach was his hut I have seen many a stye a king to it and in the doorway his wife must I call her? Curious I suppose like all her sex she came down the strand to get a look at the white-skinned, light-haired stranger, and was rewarded for temerity in a most summary manner. The man, at first, seemed to expostulate with her, and so far as I could judge, ordered her back to her domicile; but as the lady did not seem prompt to obey the mandate, he further emphasised his meaning and accelerated her movements by flinging a billet of wood at her with all the irresponsible and unrestrained force of a savage nature. In the face of this can I agree with Miss Bird? My first feeling was one of indignation and an angry twitching of my ten digits to form themselves into bunches of fives, but on second thoughts, seeing that the poor woman took the chastisement as a matter of course, and that she was seemingly used to such like gentle reminders, my indignation cooled down to matter of fact surprise.

This place is the exile home of one of the banished daïmios I spoke of in a former chapter.

From Endermo we retraced ours steps to Hakodadi, where, during a short stay, we had some amusement in the shape of messes pulling for bags of “spuds” (the potatoe of the non-sailor world) and other comestibles.

July 30th. The date of the most important event of the commission. Referring to my “journal” I find recorded below this date that word of terrible import, “stranded.” Yea, truly are we. And this is how it all came about. We had sailed from Hakodadi with a fair wind, through the strait of Sangar and out into the sea of Japan, shaped our course for Aniwa bay, in Sagalien, with except that the atmosphere was rather hazy every prospect of a fair and quick passage.

Off the south western corner of Yezo, and about ninety miles from Hakodadi, lies the small island of O’Kosiri, in the track of vessels going north. By morning we had reached its neighbourhood it could be seen in fact when suddenly a thick fog enveloped it, us, and the surrounding sea. We were to have gone outside the island, though the inner passage is navigable, still, to avoid any possibility of an accident, it was deemed best to go to seaward of it. At 4 a.m., whilst steaming at six knots, the look out man reported land dead ahead. The officer of the watch, seemingly pretty confident as to his whereabouts, altered course a point or so, and kept on at the same speed. An hour passed, the fog had settled thicker than ever. At ten minutes past two bells in the morning, without any warning the lead even shewing deep soundings a crashing, grating sound was heard, accompanied by a distinct trembling vibration, proceeding, apparently, from under the ship’s bottom. Even then, no one dreamed we were ashore; such a sound, such a sensation, might have been produced by running over a junk. At this moment the leadsman got a throw of the lead, and “a quarter less four,” indicated only too plainly the origin of the sounds.

With his usual promptness as if running ashore was a matter of ordinary evolution our captain at once gave orders for engines to be reversed, for boats to be hoisted out, and anchors placed away, where they would be of most use; at the same time directions were given to have the steam launch coaled and provisioned to go back to Hakodadi for assistance. On soundings being taken along the starboard side plenty of water was obtained; it was only on her port bottom that the ship had grounded. Efforts were made to roll her off, all hands rushing from one side of the deck to the other, but without result. Through the crystal clear water, and in the deep shadow of the ship, the nature of the bottom could be clearly seen coral rocks and yellow sand. Fortunately the sea was a flat calm, or it must have fared ill indeed with us.

At ordinary times the sailor prefers plenty of sea room, and the further he is from land the safer he feels; but when one’s ship has suddenly converted “mare” into “terram” with, may be, a hole in her to boot, then indeed the proximity to some friendly shore is his first consideration.

The lifting fog revealed to us our whereabouts; within a hundred yards of us the surf washed edges of a reef, and before us the low shores and high hills of O’Kosiri.

The unusual sight of a large ship so near their island soon brought the natives off in their queer canoes. By means of our interpreter we learn that the people had never seen a man-of-war before; that there was no rise and fall of tide there; and much more about the ways and means available for opening up communications with Hakodadi.

Meanwhile shot and shell were got out and sent on shore, and coals pitched overboard, because no lighters were obtainable at this stage in the proceedings. The divers having gone down reported the ship aground in three distinct places, aft, amidships under the batteries, and forward. Thus ended the first day. With the morrow a swell set in from seaward, which caused us to bump heavily, though it did not alter our position. On this day the expected assistance arrived from Hakodadi. Close on each other’s heels the following ships bore down upon us: the “Modeste,” with lighters in tow, the “Kerguelen,” “Champlain,” and “Themis,” Frenchmen, the latter the admiral’s ship; and the Russian corvette “Naezdnik,” with the admiral’s flag at the mizen.

These five ships at once anchored in the best positions consistent with their own safety to help us; the “Kerguelen” a little on our starboard quarter, and the “Champlain” right astern with our steel hawsers on board and two anchors down.

With the second night came a chapter of accidents.

At sunset a rolling sea again set in, heavier than that of the morning. The swell and the weight of our hawsers acting on the necessarily short cables of the “Champlain” caused that vessel to drag and take the ground on our port quarter. In her attempts to extricate herself, our steel hawser got foul of her propeller and wound itself around it in such a confused mass, that the vessel’s machinery became practically useless. Thus, side by side, the two companions in distress kept the watches of that night. But this was not all; the “Modeste” coming to the rescue of the “Champlain,” ran into the “Kerguelen,” but fortunately without any serious result.

Sunday, August 1st. At daylight the “Modeste” succeeded in towing the “Champlain” out of her perilous position. As she did so a large piece of the Frenchman’s false keel floated to the surface, whilst she was found to be making two and a half tons of water per hour. A turn of her propeller the other way caused the now useless hawser to fall off. When recovered by the divers, this mass of steel wire was a gordian knot of utter confusion.

The swell of last night, though it did our ship and the “Champlain” some harm, rendered us at least one service, by causing a higher influx of water than usual, which resulted in lifting us off our pinnacled and dangerous resting place into deep soundings again. And now it was discovered that we too were taking in water in one of our compartments which, however, thanks to our double bottom system, we were enabled to confine to the one space.

As we passed slowly by the anchored ships, cheer after cheer rent the still air, whilst the bands played our national anthem. An analysis of the sounds of this multitudinous chorus of men’s voices, was a very interesting, though not a difficult matter. The sweet cadence of the Frenchmen’s low cheer was clearly a distinct sound from the Russian’s ursine growl; whilst the Englishmen’s “hip, hip, hurrah!” if not so musical as the first, nor as bearish as the second, was a more honest sound than either.

On the following evening, after having bundled all our stores on board, we put back to Hakodadi for coal and to allow the admiral to turn over to the “Modeste.”

August 6th. Off for Hong Kong by the Japan sea passage, touching at Nagasaki for coal, and hence on to Amoy against a south-west monsoon, and into the scorching heat of the southern summer. A few hours at Amoy sufficed us to take in enough coal for the short distance to Hong Kong, where we had the satisfaction of finding ourselves, without mishap, on August 18th. Almost immediately the hands were sent on board the “Victor Emmanuel,” whilst the ship was undergoing repairs at Aberdeen.

Whilst resting on the chocks in the dock the extent of the damage sustained by us was plainly visible; and, when we come to consider, that fourteen plates had to be removed and replaced by new ones, and this too in the immediate neighbourhood of the keel, the wonder is that Chinamen accomplished the cumbrous work satisfactorily.

September 20th. Exactly one month ago to-day the ship was docked to-day she came out; what do you think of that for expedition? On floating it was found that a slight damage to the Kingston valve had been overlooked, and as the ship was still making water, it was thought a second docking would be necessary. Fortunately our very effective diving staff were able to repair it without the bother and additional expense of being shored up again.

September 22nd. A fed-letter day. Why? Oh, only because “tell it not in Gath” the captain “spliced the main brace!” Yea, yea, verily! The fact was, his ship had been got ready for sea in two days; hence the splicing.

September 23rd. We were to have gone to sea to-day, but “l’homme propose.” Rumours of an approaching atmospheric disturbance had been telegraphed from Manilla, within the previous forty-eight hours. Other usual and confirmatory indications were also observed; the presence of an unusual number of jelly-fish in the harbour till the sea stank with them; the lurid appearance of the sunset sky, as if the heavens were bathed in blood; the arrival of hundreds of junks from seaward seeking shelter: all these signs summed up were considered satisfactory reasons for preparing for a typhoon than which, I suppose, no wind is more violent and destructive. It is said that persons who have never witnessed the sublime and terrible spectacle can scarcely realize, even from the most graphic descriptions of eye witnesses, what a typhoon really means. A Chinaman informed me that the last typhoon destroyed not less than 18,000 persons in this neighbourhood alone not a large number when we bear in mind the enormous floating populations in Chinese towns. All the day the air was ominous of a coming something. At noon I asked a Chinaman when it might be expected. His answer shewed me how even this mighty destroyer is guided by a far mightier hand “Suppose he no’ com now, he com by’m by, nine clock.” Well, “he” did not come now; but at 9 p.m. and almost simultaneous with the firing of the gun it came on to blow; but, mercifully, not a typhoon, only the spent violence of one. Even this necessitated the letting go a second anchor and the steaming head on to it, for upwards of five hours.

With the morning the gale had considerably abated, and as the barometer was on the rise, and the captain impatient to clear out, we put to sea. But clearly the weather was in a very unsettled state, and outside Amoy the glass again went down with a rising head sea. That we might put into Amoy for shelter, all the furnaces were called into requisition; so we lashed into and almost buried ourselves in seas rearing themselves up a-head of us like walls of solid glass. We brought up in the outer harbour just as the shades of night and the roar of the coming storm gathered around us. That night the wind and sea played fast and furious with our ship; again we had escaped a typhoon it was subsequently ascertained that one did actually visit the adjacent coasts and sea; but, as this wind travels in a circle of many miles diameter, with its greatest force distributed near its circumference, its centre only passed over Amoy. On steaming seaward the next morning desolation, destruction, and wreck were everywhere manifest.

In due course we reached Nagasaki. In the bay was the Russian iron-clad, “Minin,” a ship if all we hear about her be true capable of blowing the “Iron Duke” sky-high. She is, however, inferior to us in many desirable qualities, particularly in the essential one of being able to keep the sea, and fight her guns in all weathers. The “Comus,” one of our handsome steel corvettes, was also here.

The hard steaming from Nagasaki, against exceptionally heavy winds, had pretty well cleared us out of coal, and, as there was not enough in store here to supply us with, we were ordered off to Kobe to fill up.

On our return, and just as we had cleared the strait of Simonoseki, we fell in with what sailors term nasty weather. The ship behaved so saucily that a seaman, Alexander Mann, whilst engaged lashing the anchor was washed completely overboard and borne away astern. Daniel Mutch, the captain of his top a petty-officer who has already been instrumental in saving life at sea observing the accident, at once rushed aft to the stern, plunged boldly into the turbulent waves and succeeded in rescuing his topmate. It is satisfactory to be able to state that the captain recognised Mutch’s bravery by applying for the Humane Society’s Medal, which honorable decoration was received shortly afterwards.

Next day an event of a similar nature, but unfortunately with a sadder termination, took place. In setting the starboard stunsail, John Irish, A.B., lost his hold of the scarping on the starboard fore-and-aft bridge, through the wood treacherously giving away with his weight, and, being unable to swim, the poor fellow soon sank exhausted, just as Joseph Summers had arrived on the spot. Irish had but lately come into a legacy from some of his friends at home.

Early in December we left Nagasaki for Hong Kong, touching at the Rugged Isles, on the opposite Chinese coast, on the passage. We spent about as uncomfortable a week in this delicious retreat as can be well conceived; our appetites sharpened to a keen edge by a north China winter a week never to be forgotten. Opportunely the admiral came in at the expiration of time and terminated our miseries by ordering us to proceed.

December 20th. To-day, and on the two subsequent days, the “one gun salute” at eight bells from the “Victor Emanuel” announced that somebody’s fate was to be sealed. Three of our officers the captain, staff-commander, and Lieutenant Clarke are to be tried on a charge, preferred by the admiral, of negligently stranding Her Majesty’s Ship “Iron Duke.” Much interest naturally centred around this trial; the reporters from the local papers exerting themselves to the utmost for information on such an engrossing topic. On the third day the sentence of the court was announced: the captain and Mr. Clarke to be reprimanded, and the staff-commander to be severely so.

December 25th. To fulfil a promise of twelve months’ standing, from the 20th to the 25th discipline was relaxed that we might prepare for our one festival; and as the admiral had again rendered us pecuniary help, and as this would be his last Christmas with us we were determined on making it a success. Meanwhile, whilst the decorations are pushing ahead, I must pause to notice the naval regatta of the 23rd, and especially the race which came about between our cutter and a similar boat of the “Lily,” which it will be remembered we beat at Chefoo recently; but so confident were the “Lily’s” that our victory on that occasion was the result of a “fluke,” that they challenged us again to pull for sixty dollars. The race was conclusive to the “Lily’s,” and they handed over the “Mexicans” with the best grace a small ship’s company can be supposed to exhibit on the eve of Christmas, too.

An interesting feature in the regatta, and one which caused no end of fun, was the get-up of the copper punts. These naval abortions are, for the nonce, handed over to the funny fellows on board, who proceed to elect a “captain,” and appoint themselves to the various offices connected with the proper management of their craft. With great rapidity and no little skill these punts are metamorphosed into brigs, full-rigged ships, paddle-wheeled steamers, and ram-bowed ironclads. The “captain’s” get-up is the most gorgeous and elaborate thing possible a profusion of gold lace, a monster cocked hat suitable for the top of the great pyramid, and a tremendous speaking trumpet whose bore would do very well for a tunnel. His crew generally attire themselves in the fantastic dress of niggers. Just as the proceedings for the day were about to begin, a pigmy paddler was observed bearing down on the flag-ship her puffing funnel and foaming bows betraying no mean steam power. On closing she was made out to be one of the punt fleet come to pay a visit to the admiral. As she lay to she ran the St. George’s Cross up to the main, and saluted it with seventeen guns (wooden ones), out of compliment to Admiral Coote, who shortly receives his promotion. She next asked permission (by signal) to part company, a request the admiral answered by hoisting the affirmative. It was indeed real fun.

By the 24th our lower deck looked a veritable fairy bower, but essentially English a character which the arrival of the “Themis,” on Christmas eve, modified somewhat. With characteristic good feeling and with, perhaps, a spice of national vanity, we determined on asking the Frenchmen to dine with us on the morrow first, because having just come in from sea they would be unable to prepare for themselves; and, secondly, that we might shew them how Englishmen observe Christmas day. Our invitation asked that three hundred men might be allowed to come, but half that number only could be spared.

It now became necessary to make our surroundings as international as possible, and as, happily, the French flag does not demand any very great skill in its formation, we soon had the tri-color stuck up everywhere; whilst in the most conspicuous positions French mottoes shewed out from the greenery. The wording of these latter was a tremendous effort, so limited was our knowledge of our nearest neighbour’s tongue. Just to quote a few: surrounding every pudding a scroll with “Bien venue ‘Themis’” painted on it; in the mess shelves, “Vive la France;” whilst, occupying a commanding place, the following long yarn “Servons nous vôtre reine maïs honneur a la république francais,” shone out in great gilt letters. Then, too, there were plenty of legends in English; and noticing these, one would be surprised at the wit, no less than at the talent, exhibited in their execution. For example, here is a sailor depicted with a most lugubrious and “I-wish-I-might-get-it” expression on his rather florid face, looking into an empty grog-tub; and that there may be no ambiguity about the matter, the word empty is printed on the tub, and attached to his mouth a balloon-shaped sack containing the following visible speech “Three years on the ‘Alert’ but no ‘Discovery.’” A second tar is represented holding a stranded rope up to his captain, whilst he naively remarks, “It wants splicing, sir.” There were also several mottoes specially designed as compliments to the admiral.

At noon on Christmas day we awaited on the quarter deck the arrival of our guests, who, as soon as they came inboard were ushered below and placed in the posts of honor at the tables. After the admiral, captain, and officers had made the round of the decks, preceded by the band playing the immortal strains of “The roast beef of Old England,” the shrill whistles piped “fall-to.”

And now might have been witnessed a laughable scene, men rushing and hurrying about here, there, and everywhere, exclaiming “Have you seen our Frenchmen?” or “I’ve lost a Frenchman,” and so on. But at length the lost were found, and were, ere long, contemplating the formidable heap of indigestible stuff set before them.

Such mountains of pudding, goose, ham, mutton, beef, and pickles all packed on one plate I suppose it rarely falls to the lot of the more polished Frenchman to behold. Well might they look aghast at the miracle required of them. It is the proverbial hospitality of the Englishman, enacted over again, which always imagines its guest starving. Considering that not one word of the other’s language was understood on either side, a very kindly feeling sprang up between us during the afternoon, and the time of departure arrived all too soon. After the tea, which was to all intents and purposes a repetition of the mid-day meal, the Frenchmen’s boats came alongside, the crews invited inboard and loaded with the debris of the feast. When at length they left us, the Frenchmen all stood up in their boats, whilst we lined our bridges and spar deck, and a succession of deafening cheers brought the happy day to a close cheers which most of the ships in port took up as the boats passed their bows. So ended Christmas, 1880.