It was no part of my business to grumble, but I felt inclined to when I learned that we were to have ten days at home and sail on Christmas Day of all days. It was an outrage, for there was no necessity for it; it was just one of those sardonic jokes that directors collectively at times take a delight in. We were to carry no passengers, but were to make a somewhat longer trip than usual, for after going up to and down from Natal, we were to make a trip to Zanzibar before returning home, in fact it was to be a five months’ voyage. Never shall I forget that Christmas morning. We were to leave at noon, and every one seemed anxious to kick us out and go back to their own firesides, also I had more than an idea that several of the crew had not got quite over Christmas Eve. I had a boatswain named Barrett, a good man, but one who wanted some handling. We got outside the Needles and found a stiff breeze blowing, with too much wind to carry whole trysails, so the job was to put in a reef and set them. By this time most of the crew were asleep, and my chief officer was hardly the man physically to get a move on them, so I proceeded in the first place to the boatswain’s cabin. It was touch-and-go how it went, but Barrett was sober enough to retain a pride in his manhood, and after that there was no more trouble. He was a man of powerful physique, so the crew appeared in a twinkling, like bees from a disturbed hive, and the work was soon done. The doctor, who was named Ernest Walters and now practises in Essex, proved himself a good useful man when occasion arose, even outside his own work. I had been trying to see what I could do to improve the compasses in dock, with so unsatisfactory a result that I did not feel sure whether I should make the Start or Ushant going down Channel, for we were not to call at Plymouth that trip. I had to replace a much-loathed compensation at the first opportunity, but we did fairly well on the whole, coming in for a fair dusting, however, as we got off Finisterre. About this time there were two schools of thought as to the best way to handle a steamer in bad weather. One party maintained that head on to the sea was the correct plan, the other people varied in detail but agreed in denouncing the end-on principle. On this occasion I tried the end-on plan, but came to the conclusion, which I have since retained, that almost any position is better in really bad weather; of course the size of the vessel has a great deal to do with it.