One day my eyes lighted upon a very handsome little iron ship lying in the London Docks. I thought her a beauty, and on closer inspection discovered her name to be _Lord of the Isles_; she was not the celebrated tea clipper of that name, which ten years previously had beaten the Yankee vessels in the race from Foo Chow to London. There was this similarity, however, that she was built at Greenock by Steel, while the earlier ship was built by Scott of the same place. Anyhow she was a little beauty, and, when I went to try my luck, I was fortunate enough to find the captain on board, and to get into conversation with him. I think we took rather a liking to each other, for without much trouble I secured the berth of second mate. The ship was loading for Adelaide, and it transpired that the owner was anxious the ship should make a quick passage, for I well remember Mr. Williamson of the firm of Williamson and Milligan saying to me, “Mind, Mr. Second Mate, we expect the ship to make the passage of the season.” I rather liked that remark, for it seemed to give a share of responsibility to so very humble an individual as myself, and, indeed, as a matter of policy, or humbug, it might be well if people in authority realised more than many of them do, how a junior is “bucked up” by a word of encouragement. I can moralise over this now that the opportunity of putting the precept into practice has passed away, but I cannot remember that I was ever very sympathetic to my subordinates when I had them. And while dealing with ethics, let me add the note of utility, and suggest to any young man the desirability of keeping some notes of his life’s events. There is no need to go into detail, but for one engaged in such a calling as the sea a chronological note-book will in many cases save an infinity of trouble. Even now as I pen these lines I find the want acutely of some record that would fix dates and aid memory, for it entails an enormity of trouble to get together the necessary data.