To leave the shore details and come back once more to the _Roman_, it was then the custom of the Company the day before the ship sailed to muster the crew, and go through fire and boat drill, and a very good custom too. It was a respectable show to see the men fallen in, dressed in uniform and saluting in proper fashion as their names were called over, the officers dressed in frock coats trimmed to the company’s fashion. The captain’s uniform had evidently been copied from that of the Trinity Masters, an excellent example, and it always appeared to me that it was a mistake to too closely follow the uniform of the Royal Navy. It is, I am aware, commonly done, but it would show better taste if it were discontinued. Naturally this condition of things appealed to me vastly, and I may say gave a liking for the service which never departed. Years afterwards when I had sought “fields afresh,” it was said of me that “as well expect the planets to have left their orbits as me to sever my connection with the company,” and I am more than ever sure now that it was the biggest mistake in the many that I have to record. I firmly believe that that service was the last stronghold of the conservatism of the sea. At the time of which I am now writing it was customary to leave Southampton two days before the date of sailing from Plymouth. The Company’s vessels were not powerful enough to make sure of their passage against a strong adverse wind, and cases were frequent when it was found necessary to put the vessel under fore and aft canvas, and reproduce in a mild form the tactics of sailing-ships with a head wind. We also took a Channel pilot who was ordinarily employed as the Company’s pilot. His name was William Waters. He was a man of strong character, and stronger language. There was little of the _suaviter in modo_ about him, but he was a sailor, and could handle a ship for all she was worth. Many are the stories that might be told of incidents that occurred during those trips down-Channel, but they would lose much of their point if their text were departed from, and as much of it is unprintable, there is nothing to do save leave it alone. But never shall I forget William’s language to the man in charge of a small schooner without any lights that we found in close proximity to us one dark night. In reply to a forcible question concerning lights, the reply came up, “Sure, sir, they’ve gone out.” This reminds me of another Irishman, Pat Malony, afterwards one of the Company’s captains, who being in the hold when he was fourth officer, was asked, “How many lights have you down there, Malony?” He replied, “Six, sir, but they’re all gone out.”