On the next passage out we called at St. Helena, and I had my first opportunity of visiting Longwood. It was a morning I shall never forget. As we got up to the high land the weather was misty, with a drizzle of rain, and it was not possible, to me at all events, to avoid the thought of the torture it must have been to that great master mind who ended his days there on that weather-swept spot. The house in which he had lived gave me the impression of having only recently been vacated, and the bust of the Great Emperor by Thorswalden seemed to dominate the place with his personality. No work of art that I have seen has impressed me in the manner that did, for the grandeur of the face is most imposing, and surely not one ever to be rivalled in marble. Resist the feeling as one might, the very place seemed permeated with the being of the mighty spirit that sped from within those humble walls. There was nothing more to call for comment on the outward trip. There were many nice people and several sportsmen who arranged all sorts of sports and pastimes. I remember one remarkable boxing-match. In the final bout there came together a big bluejacket and a little featherweight of a man, which recalled the meeting of David and Goliath. When the word was given to begin, the little fellow rushed in to close quarters and set up no end of a mill, doing this with extraordinary impunity, for the big fellow could have knocked him silly if he had got home. When the bout was over, the referee, a military officer of proved knowledge of boxing, awarded the prize to the big man as being the best boxer, the little man getting a prize as a good fighter. In the _Nubian_ I had had a compass that had been tried and proved during a great many voyages. In the _Mexican_ we had one of the best, but we were only now finding out how to adjust Sir Wm. Thompson’s compass for changes of latitude. On this particular voyage I pulled mine to pieces in Algoa Bay and re-adjusted it by stellar azimuths. It was a long operation, but it was well worth doing, and no one can appreciate the value of a really good compass until they have been well broken in by attempting to navigate with an indifferent one. There was one other little matter that may well be mentioned. The _Mexican_ always seemed to us all to be a brilliantly lit ship, and oil lamps appeared to meet every requirement, but as soon as the electric light came in, we all wondered how we had managed to exist in what was by comparison a state of semi-darkness.