There was an occasional launch from the dockyard; one of them was the _Tweed_, of 28 guns, a new form not much thought of, and called donkey-frigates. Subsequently she was christened by Miss Loring, and to this vessel I was appointed on leaving the College. We had a nice set of fellows. Some of them sons of distinguished officers, among them Suckling, Pasco, Hallowell, Blackwood. On muster or parade we were in subdivisions or companies; the best-behaved had charge each of one of these, and wore a midshipman’s white patch instead of a bit of braid on the collar. The boy I looked up to was William Edmonston; he was clever, and passed out with a first mathematical prize medal (before completing his two years) as a midshipman in the _Sybille_, 42, Captain S. Pechell. He was wounded in the face in a boat action against pirates near Candia. Edmonston had the best sort of courage--brave without being rash. He got into Parliament, but I, having been kept at sea, got ahead of him. George King entered the College the same day as myself, and we kept working together, although in different ships, for many years. We cadets were not allowed outside the dockyard; the stage-coaches that took us away were obliged to come inside the gates. We were but boys, and provided ourselves with such missiles for mischief as we could find in the yard--iron ringbolts, for example, which were dangerous if thrown with precision. Before the half was up, we drew lots for the much-coveted box-seat; that on His Majesty’s mail on one occasion fell to me. There were several night-coaches, but the “Nelson,” the only “six inside heavy,” was the favourite. It carried thirteen passengers, and stopped to refresh at Liphook. The food was bespoke a week before: in winter beefsteaks, onions, and plum-pudding, but in summer a goose, ducks and green peas, with onions to any extent. It often happened that the coach left a passenger or two asleep on the rug. [Illustration: _The Attack._] Outside the gates there was no difficulty in obtaining pea-shooters and other small means of annoyance. On the night when I had the box-seat, the Royal Mail picked up and dropped boys as we came, so that it was midnight before we reached Godalming. The postmaster having turned in, the Mail pulled up as usual under his bedroom windows. The moment they were opened, the postmaster and his wife were assailed with pea-shooters and other missiles. The guard was saying “All right,” when the postmistress, calling “There is something else,” emptied the slops on the boys as the Mail drove off; I, having the box-seat, escaped the odoriferous bath. [Illustration: _The Defence._]