"Arrah, sir, d'ye intend to insult me?" I asked. "Were they not put together by Pat Cassidy, the family tailor, under the direction of my uncle, Major McMahon, and he shure knows what a young gentleman should wear on board ship." "No, my lad, I only intended to laugh at you; but do you know who I am?" "No, but I'll have you to understand that an O'Finnahan of Castle Ballinahone, County Tipperary, Ireland, is not to be insulted with impunity," I answered, trying to look as dignified as I could. "Then I'll give you to understand, young sir, that I'm the first lieutenant of this ship, and that lieutenants don't insult midshipmen, even if they think fit to send them to the masthead. It will be your business to obey, and to ask no questions." As I knew no more, at the time, of the rank and position of a first lieutenant on board ship than I did of the man in the moon, this announcement did not make much impression on my mind. I only thought that he was some old fellow who was fond of boasting, and had a fancy to try and make me believe that he was a personage of importance, or perhaps to frighten me. I soon discovered, however, that though he generally wore a shabby uniform, he was not a man to be trifled with. I may as well here say that his name was Saunders, that he was a thorough tar, who had come in at the hawse-hole, and had worked his way up to his present position. Old "Rough and Ready" I found he was called. His hands were continually in the tar-bucket, and he was never so happy as when, with a marline-spike hung round his neck by a rope-yarn, he was engaged in gammoning the bowsprit, or setting up the rigging. But that I found out afterwards. "Now come along, youngster, for I don't wish to be hard on you; I'm only laughing at the ridiculous figure you cut," he said, giving way to a burst of rough merriment. By the time it was over we reached the door of the berth, where the midshipmen were assembled for dinner. "Young gentlemen," said Mr Saunders with perfect gravity, opening the door, "I have to tell you that this is Mr Terence O'Finnahan, of Castle Ballinahone, County Tipperary, Ireland, who is to become your messmate as soon as he is docked of his fine feathers; and you'll be pleased to receive him as such." Saying this he took his departure, and two of my new messmates seized me by the fists, which they gripped with a force intended perhaps to show the ardour of their regard, but which was excessively painful to my feelings. I restrained them, however, and stood looking round at the numerous strange faces turned towards me.