It was late in October, and the wind blew fresh from the north-westward, so that the ship, riding to the ebb, had her head directed towards the Narrows, between Staten Land and Long Island: consequently, the pilot-boat,—one of those beautiful vessels so well known to every visitor of the American coast,—came flying down upon us, with the wind nearly right aft. Our joyous party were all assembled on the quarter-deck, looking anxiously at the boat as she swept past us. She then luffed round, in order to sheer alongside, at which moment the main-sail jibed, as was to be expected. It was obvious, however, that something more had taken place than the pilot had looked for, since the boat, instead of ranging up to us, was brought right round on her heel, and went off again upon a wind on the other tack. The tide carried her out of sight for a few minutes, but she was soon alongside, when we learned, to our inexpressible grief and consternation, that, on the main-boom of the pilot-boat swinging over, it had accidentally struck our poor friend, and pitched him headlong overboard. Being encumbered with his great-coat, the pockets of which, as we afterwards learned, were loaded with his young companions’ letters, brought from England by this packet, he in vain struggled to catch hold of the boat, and then sunk to rise no more! CHAPTER VI. DIVERSITIES IN DISCIPLINE. It was our fortune in the Leander to change captains very frequently; and, as most of the plans of those officers were dissimilar, the perplexity which such variations produced is not to be described. Fortunately, however, there is so much uniformity in the routine of naval discipline, that, in spite of any variety in the systems established by a succession of commanding officers, things do somehow contrive to run on to their final purpose pretty well. It is true the interests of the service often suffer for a time, and in a small degree; but public-spirited and vigilant officers know well how to extract lasting profit even from the unsettled, revolutionary state of affairs which is apt to occur at these periods. On the other hand, it is at these times also that the class called skulkers most easily shirk their duty, while those who really like their business, are even at the time more certain of being favourably noticed than at any other moment; because it becomes obvious, that, without them, things would not go on at all. Although the variety of methods, therefore, introduced by different captains in succession, is apt to distract and unhinge the discipline, it likewise teaches much that is useful—at least to those who are on the alert, and who wish to improve.