But this was not all, for even the men were good to the prisoners. Many a morsel of tobacco did they give them on the sly; and if a Jack-tar observed that one was asleep in his hammock, he would sign to his fellows to make as little noise as possible. It is no wonder, therefore, that the "Froggies," as they were called, nearly all recovered from their wounds. Two or three, however, succumbed, and these were buried with as much ceremony as if they had been British sailors. The same impressive and beautiful service was repeated by the grating where the body lay; the same solemn silence prevailed while it was being read; and I am not sure that some of our Jacks did not even shed a tear--on the sly, that is, for your true sailor ever tries to hide two things, his grief and his tender-heartedness--as with dull plash the body dropped into the sea. * * * * * Contrary winds and storms delayed the voyage. Nearly a whole month flew by, and still the little fleet had not yet reached the longitude of Newfoundland. But to his credit be it told, Jack and his officers had managed to keep them all well together, and had not lost one. The _Tonneraire_ was a very happy ship, the primary reason being that Jack Mackenzie, though a thorough upholder of the sacredness of duty, was really kind and thoughtful at heart. He knew the value in the service of strict obedience to command. I have heard it said that a man-o'-war sailor or a soldier is a mere machine. He is not even that, he is only part of a machine; but he has the honour to be part and portion of one of the grandest machines that ever were perfected--the upholder of our national honour, the defender of British hearths and homes, and the protector of tender women and helpless babies. We man-o'-war sailors, and ye soldiers, carry on war, it is true, and we hit just as hard as we know how to--and war is a fearful game at the best; but, dear civilians, do not forget that we constitute the only institutions that can render peace possible, and your homes happy and safe, machines though we be. But how would it be if strict, unthinking, unhesitating obedience were not exacted from every man and officer in the service to the commands of his superior officers? Why, on the day of battle the army or navy would be a mere squabbling mob, worse even than the British Parliament. I may mention here that it was his cheerful obedience to orders, his good-natured smiling alacrity--minus officiousness, mind you--his unselfishness and his bravery, that gained for Jack Mackenzie the proud position he now held. Young men who mean to enter the service should read that last sentence of mine over again, ay, even get it by heart. I digress, you say? So I do.