Under these circumstances it will be realized that the maintenance of the _Diamond Shoal_ light is by no means a sinecure. When these adversities are aggravated by the relief-boat being unable to fulfil its scheduled duty, when week after week slips by without the men receiving the welcome spell ashore, while they are suffering privations and experiencing the nerve-shattering pangs of isolation and monotony, it is not surprising that despondency shows signs of getting the upper hand among the crew. Melancholia is the malady which is feared most on a light-vessel such as this, and the men have to pull themselves together to resist its insidious grip. Probably at times there is half an inclination to desert the light, but fortunately there is little fear of this temptation succeeding. The axiom “Never abandon the light” is too deeply rooted; besides, the men are safer where they are, although it appears a crazy refuge in rough weather. Prolonged imprisonment on the _Diamond Shoal_ precipitated one mutiny. The crew on duty were awaiting the arrival of the reserve vessel to take them home; but the weather disposed otherwise. With that inexplicable persistence, the wind got round to a rough quarter and kept there tenaciously, never moderating for a few hours, but just blowing, blowing, blowing, getting up a nasty sea which made the lightship reel and tumble, while at intervals a comber came aboard to flush the decks. In the course of ten days or so the crew began to fret and fume at the obstinacy of the elements; when a month slipped by without bringing any welcome relief, the mate and the engineer incurred the captain’s dire displeasure by fraternizing and playing cards with the crew, thereby creating a breach of discipline and etiquette. The offenders, somewhat overwrought by their continued incarceration, ignored the captain’s reprimand. This arrant disobedience played upon his nerves, which similarly were strung up. It did not require a very big spark to start a conflagration of tempers. The mate and engineer brooded over the captain’s remarks, and at last they waited upon him, forcibly ventilated their opinions concerning his lack of civility and of endeavours to make one and all comfortable under the trying circumstances, and expressed their determination to tolerate his overbearing manner no longer. This was the last straw from the captain’s point of view. Drawing his revolver, he growled that he was master of the lightship, and that they would have to do as he told them. There was a tussle, but the firearm was wrenched away from the master’s hands as being a somewhat too dangerous tool for a man in his overstrung condition. The crew naturally sided with the officers, and the captain was kept under surveillance until the relief-vessel came up some weeks later.