About this period the theory of compass compensation for local attraction was understood by the few, and composite ships were supposed to be more difficult to adjust than iron or steel ones. So we made fast to the buoys off Greenhithe while the operation was being gone through, afterwards making the best of our way down-Channel in charge of a pilot whom we landed off the Isle of Wight. The wind soon after this came out from the westward, and we had the pleasure of working her down-Channel in company with many other biggish ships. I remember one we were often in company with--she was called the _Liberator_, and she sailed well. We had the misfortune to knock the mast out of a trawler somewhere off the Start; I do not think it was our fault, though I doubt not the ship paid. It fell to me to write the letter to the owner describing the circumstances, and how it occurred, for the old man was not fluent with his pen. I shall later on give an instance of how letter-writing was regarded by many masters. During the first part of the passage out there was no particular incident, save that we boarded a little schooner in order to send home letters. She was a Spaniard, and the skipper was as polite as his countrymen usually are, begging me to accept the present of a box of cigars, which, needless to say, I was glad to do. It was my first experience of boating on a line swell, and it came as a surprise. We made a fair passage through the Trades and commenced to run the Easting down. The skipper decided to run through the Straits of Sunda and up the China Sea in preference to the eastern passage, but that did not hinder him from getting well down into the “roaring forties.” As a general thing no one minded much being up to the waist in water, but higher than that was unpleasant, for it induced a suggestion of swimming that had its drawbacks. The ship had fine bulwarks, nearer six feet high than five, and she was fairly deep in the pickle too, but the way she took the water over in heaps when she was running was uncomfortable. There was no fuss about it, but just one steady cataract, that at times gave the relieving ports all they could do to get clear of it before another lot came along. I am not going to say that at any time she was filled up to the top of the bulwarks, but it seemed very much like it, and I do not believe we took the maintopgallantsail in while we were down south, for the old man carried canvas like a hero. Our best day’s run was 335 miles--a very respectable performance, but it was fortunate there was no ice about.