Henry Batt, midshipman. Dead. An old schoolfellow of mine. Harry was passionately fond of grog, which made him an ungrateful return by taking him out of this world before it was agreeable. Nicknamed "Ram," "Cat," "Batt," and "Rammon the Butcher." Alexander Proctor, surgeon's assistant. Proud as the devil. Hugh Land, clerk. A clever little pedant. William Nowel, second lieutenant. Dead. Gloomy and fiery, but a good officer and gentleman. John Irwin, fourth lieutenant. Dead. A very good fellow, always smiling. John Roskruge, master. Dead. A very good man, one that was better acquainted with rope-yarns and bilge-water than with Homer or Virgil. He said a man's ideas should go no further than the jib-boom end. John Tursides, midshipman. A droll old guardo. Henry Foularton, midshipman. Dead. Very religious, and remarkably neat in his dress: but at last drank very hard, and died regretting that a keg of gin (alongside of him) should see him out, which was really the case. Billy Culmer, mate. Dead. Everyone has heard of Billy. Thomas H. Tidy, midshipman. Dead. Poor Tom. John Nazer, mate. A very good and very ugly fellow. Peter M'Kinnon, gunner. A good sailor, but used to damn his poor eyes so. I could go on indefinitely thus, calling forth from their graves these hard-bitten sea dogs; but that is enough. It is literature in its way, is it not? Are there the same or kindred characters in the Navy to-day, one wonders. Let us hope so. But as time goes on and sophistication spreads, the outstanding eccentricities are apt to decrease; there is a general planing down of the harder knots. Gardner's book, however, is in the main narrative. It is only at the end of the chapters that he prints these critical lists. Many of his old messmates come in for more detailed description--Mr. Stack, for example. Mr. Stack was "cursed surly and disagreeable, but I believe meant well.... When in good temper (which was seldom) he would say 'my son' when he addressed any of us; but generally 'I'll split your ear.'"