"This kind of thing won't be allowed every night, I expect," said Phil, as he sat by Tony's side, for many of the sailors, liberally helped to a portion of the soldiers' rum, were reeling away to their quarters. "Ah! well, it's only the first night out, mate, mind that. The officers, I expect, knows about it as well as we do, but they knows the boys want cheering. But I expects there'll be a change." And as a matter of fact there was, for on the following day, when the hour for the serving out of grog came round, the men were drawn up in their several messes. Then under the eye of the sergeant-major one mess was served, and at the order, "Men served one pace forward and swallow," the spirit disappeared. It was a strange feeling to lie for the first time in a hammock, but the men took to it like ducks to water. "It's jolly comfortable, and ever so much softer than a barrack-bed, ain't it, Phil?" remarked Tony, as he lay full length close beside his friend, with only his face showing, and a pipe projecting from his lips. "I've slept in a harder bed many a time," laughed Phil. "But I'm tired; so good-night, Tony!" At 6:30 a.m. the next morning _reveille_ sounded through the ship, and the men tumbled out, to find a fresh, cold breeze blowing and a nasty sea on. Faces fell, for soldiers, like other mortals, fall victims to _mal de mer_. Breakfasts were looked at askance, and scarcely touched, and soon the rails were almost as thickly crowded as on the previous day. "Lummy! How jolly bad I feel!" groaned Tony. "I'm off to me bunk as fast as me feet will take me." Phil nodded curtly, and very soon followed his example, for he too was not exactly enjoying himself. On the following day the ship was on an even keel once more, and bright faces and merry jokes were everywhere. In seven days Gibraltar was reached, but no one was allowed to land, and no sooner had the ship coaled than she paddled on to Malta. Arrived there, the troops disembarked, to hear the welcome news that France and England had declared war on Russia on the day after their sailing. "That's all right, then!" exclaimed Tony with a grunt of satisfaction. "We shall soon have a taste of fighting, and the sooner it comes the better. See them coves over there, Phil? Ain't they smart, just. Wonder how they'll tackle the Russians!" He alluded to a ship-load of French artillery which had arrived only a few hours before in the harbour. Smart, athletic men they looked, as they crowded the decks and shouted back greetings to the British. "They are said to be amongst the finest gunners trained by any nation," answered Phil, "and I've no doubt they will do well. But look out, Tony; there goes the bugle. I expect we shall have to disembark." The bugle notes rang out clear, waking the harbour of Valetta with the echo; and the hoarse voice of the sergeant-major penetrated to every hole and corner of the _Orinoco_. "Fall in, lads," he shouted. "Smartly now; by companies."