Loosing sail. Furling sail. Up and down topgallant and royal yards. Up and down topgallant masts. Making sail and getting underway. Tacking and wearing. Reef topsails. Shorten sail and come to anchor. STATIONS AND DUTIES. Loose topgallant sail. Furl topgallant sail. Topmast crosstrees to rig upper topgallant yardarm, etc. Topmast crosstrees, reeve and unreeve mast rope, fid and unfid, etc. Loose topgallant sail, then on deck to halliards. Overhaul foresheet and shorten in, man maintop bowlines, main and fore tacks. Man topsail bunt lines, then halliards. Let go topgallant halliards, man topsail clew lines, veer and stopper cables. It was a novelty to nearly all of the division, bringing back the old days of heave and haul. The regulars were husky men with legs like barrels and arms like blacksmiths’, nearly every one raw material for a football player or anchor of a tug-of-war team. Bosn’s mates were weather-beaten salts with faces like teakwood, seamed by the suns and snows of the seven seas, tanned tar-mequicks with chests like hair mattresses. One barnacle in the port watch had a voice as rasping as a nutmeg grater. You might have imagined that he was born in Lat. 2, North, Long. 2, West, and that he learned to creep on the lee side of the foc’s’le. When he shrilled out a pipe with a chaser like the growl of distant thunder a nippous rooky from the Tenth Ward asked in blank amazement: “What in heaven did that fellow say?” “One man from each part of the ship coal the first steamer,” was the reply. Some of the best boat work which the division has ever done was performed on this cruise. This is true not only in the line of oarsmanship, but also in the securing of boats for sea and for port. The duty took the division up Sound to Huntington Bay, then east to Gardiner’s Bay, thence over to New London and finally back to New Haven harbor. The men had a welcome convenience in the line of large lockers. They took much interest in the apprentices, frolicsome little fellows then from the training station who had school each morning at a mess table on the starboard side of the gun deck near a frowning five-inch gun with its glittering brass and its oiled steel. The boys were poring over their books and papers in very much the same way that lads in the seventh and eighth grades in the Second North or the West Middle schools are poring (perhaps more so), over arithmetic. In the instruction of the class the chaplain was using some of the books which citizens of Hartford gave to the ship’s library in 1899 at the suggestion of Admiral Bunce.