Some ships were overrun with them. Rats also were a dreadful nuisance: they invariably nested among the biscuit bags. We mids used to lie awake and watch them coming up at night from the hold on to the cockpit deck; and, well armed with shoes, hair-brushes, and so on, we persecuted them. Spithead, at the time I joined my ship, afforded an interesting spectacle. Men-of-war of all classes were gradually collecting, and the dockyards were very busy; but we were short of men--so much so that all available coastguard-men were requisitioned to complete our crews, which in those days were for the most part collected from the streets. The war with Russia which (keen-sighted diplomatists warned our Government) must come, and that soon, necessitated active preparations. The newly-joined men were being trained in great-gun drill, and target practice was always going on. My ship was a battleship of about 3400 tons, and said to be quite the prettiest of her class. We were afterwards styled the _Pretty Royal_; which so much pleased the middies that we all bought eyeglasses, and wore them, when not on duty, by way of swagger. We carried 32-pounders on the main and the upper deck, and 56-pounders on the lower deck, throwing hollow shot; with one solid 68-pounder on the forecastle. Our full-steam speed under favourable conditions was nine knots; but this speed under steam was of rare occurrence--eight knots was usual. We had a complement of 850 men and officers. In the gun-room (or midshipmen’s) mess we numbered about twenty-four, all told. I grieve to say that we had a few very bad specimens of the British officer: bad both professionally and socially. Though discipline was generally very strict on deck and on duty, irregularities went on below that were winked at, and in later days would not have been tolerated. There was a remnant of the bad style of earlier days, without any of the higher qualities of the old naval officer to temper it. One heard now and then of notorious characters that seemed always just to escape retribution; though long before the end of the war three of my messmates, if not more, were “hoisted out” by court-martial or otherwise. Bullying also was common. On one occasion I was so much irritated by a lout of an Irish assistant-surgeon that I lost my poor little temper and gave him the lie. Being overheard by one of the senior mates, I was immediately kicked out of the gun-room and ordered to mess on my chest for three days. The punishment was carried out to the full. The most fiendish case of bullying it ever was my lot to endure was perpetrated by one Berkley. I glory now in presenting his name to the British people. He was one of the senior mates. It was his wont to regale himself with port wine and walnuts of an afternoon. On one occasion (possibly it may have been oftener) he sent for me, and he lashed me to a ring-bolt in the ship’s side, ordering me to say, “Down, proud spirit: up, good