In one harbour there was a sailing match, the competition being between the boats of the fleet. The second cutter of our ship, of which I was one of the crew, entered for the race. With the halyards, the sail was hoisted to the uppermost point, and the sheets pulled taut aft. With a fresh breeze away we scudded. The boat, was soon on her beam ends, taking in large quantities of water, which we bailed out with our caps; still, this did not matter, as she was bounding through the water like a wild thing. Crash! Crash! Went the mast, and the boat was nearly capsized. The midshipman who steered her had endeavoured to weather a schooner lying at anchor, but failed, colliding with her jib-boom. The mast was lashed in a temporary manner, and we proceeded, but not far, when a sudden gust of wind disabled us. We were signalled back to the ship and disqualified for further racing. The cruise being over, we returned to Bermuda with the fleet, and after taking in stores, left for the Newfoundland fisheries. Two other ships accompanied the 'Emerald' (V12)--the 'Pelican' and 'Buzzard.' On this cruise, our captain being senior to the other two, we stood in the relationship of flagship to them, and flew the Commodore's flag until such time as we should again meet the Admiral's ship, when it would be struck. Before making any observations upon some incidents of this cruise, I will give the reader in barest outline a sketch of life on board a naval sea-going ship. At sea each man gets four and six hours' rest each alternate night--that is, if he keeps the first watch of the night, 8 to 12 p.m., his resting hours are from 12 to 4. At 4 he has to rise again and scrub decks, whereas if he is in his hammock from 8 to 12, then he keeps the middle watch, returning to his rest at 4. Let us imagine the ship at sea. It is midnight. The bell is struck. Immediately is heard a deep bass voice to and fro the lower deck-- "All the starboard watch! Heave out! heave out! heave out! Show a leg! show a leg! All the starboard Watch! Show a leg!" which means "Turn out of your hammock." At five minutes past midnight, a tinkle of a bell is heard, followed by the same deep voice calling "Watch to muster!" Every seaman has to run to the quarterdeck, and on the midshipman calling his name, has to give in his number. This being done the boatswain's mate pipes, "Sea-boats' crew and relieves fall in."