He’d sit smoking ship’s tobacco in his cabin—it hadn’t any scuttle or ventilation whatever of any account, so you can have an idea what the smell was like—and the mids. would crowd in, those who couldn’t do so squeezing into the doorway, and listen by the hour. Nothing else but war was talked about from morning to night. Well, on the ninth day out from Gibraltar, we sighted Prince Rupert’s Island, ran in through the northern channel, and anchored two miles off Princes Town in a great wide bay, with the dark mountains of Santa Cruz just showing up on the horizon away to the west. Somewhere up among them old Gerald was teaching his natives to play cricket. The Skipper went ashore immediately in the picketboat, to call on the Governor and get news and fresh orders; so you can guess how excited we all were when she was seen coming tearing off again, and the Skipper ran up the accommodation ladder. I believe every officer in the ship was up on the quarterdeck to hear the news, and you can just imagine what we felt like when we saw that the Skipper had shipped a long face, and when he shook his head at us and went down below. In three minutes we knew the worst—it was all over the ship. The Englishmen and the English steamer had been released; old Canilla, the President, had apologised handsomely, and all was peace. Wasn’t it sickening? ’Ain’t it a bally shame,’ Montague, the Gunnery Lieutenant, said, ’stoppin’ our gun-layers’ test at Gib., just as we were in the thick of it; bringin’ us lolloppin’ along here, and nothin’ for us to do when we get here—no landin’ party, no nothin’.’ And he sent word down to Mr. Bostock to re-stow and pack up all the leather gear and water-bottles. ’It do take the ’eart out of one,’ Mr. Bostock told the sympathising mids., ’not a blooming chawnce to let off so much as a single ball cartridge,’ and he went below to see that none of his landing party gear was missing. The Governor himself came off to return the Skipper’s call, and brought off some of the shore chaps with a challenge to play us at football, hockey, tennis, cricket, polo, or anything and everything we jolly well liked. That bucked us all up a bit, and Clegg, our Surgeon—a great, tall chap and a grand cricketer—who ran the sports on board, sent for me to fix up things. Between us we fixed enough matches to last the first ten days. ’Can’t play you at polo,’ we told them, ’we’ve only got one chap who’s ever played in his life.’ ’Well, I’ll tell you what we’ll do,’ one of them said, ’we’ll lend you ponies to practise for the match, and if you’ll lend us one of your boats, we’ll practise in her, and pull a race against you in ten days’ time. What d’you say to that? That’ll even up matters a bit.’ ’Let’s get this little lot finished first,’ we said, laughing.