In answer to this call the crew of the lifeboat and certain men of the watch who have special duties to perform, called 'tricks,' during the next four hours, present themselves before the quarter-master, who, being satisfied that the correct number there, dismisses them. Two look-out men are required for each hour of the watch, four for steering, the weather and lee helmsman being relieved every two hours, eight for the chains. The uniform time for heaving the lead, by which is ascertained the depth of water, is one hour, but as circumstances alter cases, it was found necessary on our fishery cruises to reduce the time one-half. So intense was the cold that each man upon entering the chain would bathe his hands in warm grease, provided for the purpose of enabling him to heave the lead. Here is a little story in connection with this 'trick.' Two men agreed one night to toss up a penny and to decide thereby as to which of them should do the full hour, in order that one of them might be relieved from his work--for, be it said, unless there are yards to trim, or sails to furl or set, the watch on deck can lie down to rest, but under no circumstance is any seaman allowed to go below until the four hours are expired. However, after a little parleying, they came to the conclusion that each would do his own 'trick.' Accordingly one did his duty, and was awaiting, to be relieved by the other, but not a trace of him could be discovered for some time, until at length he was found sleeping behind a large gun. This man then told his mate, by way of explanation, that he had had a dream in which he dreamt they both tossed up and he had won, and that therefore the one wanting relief was to do the hour's trick. When daylight dawns the 'look-out' is transferred from the topgallant forecastle to the forecross trees, or, if sail is set, to the foretopsail yard. Many an hour have I spent, from time to time, on the topsail yard, often sick and giddy, when the ship has been rolling and dipping. Thoughts of home would gather in my mind, and there aloft, where no human eye could see, have I cried aloud, giving vent to my pent-up feelings. Sick, I say, yes, and bareheaded, using my cap for a sanitary purpose, rather than get into trouble by being sick overt the sails. At 9 a.m. is the inspection of uniform, followed by prayers. Should it be Tuesday or Thursday, rifles and cutlasses are inspected, and each man is supposed to wear his boots. This to many is hateful. In my watch was a man named Timothy Hennesy, who on 'small-arm' days would bind with spun-yarn his big toe, thereby giving the inspecting officer the impression he had hurt it, and was in consequence excused from wearing his boots.