We lived in the gun-room on the lower deck, and in fine weather had daylight, which was better in many respects than the old midshipmen’s berths in the cockpit. Amongst the youngsters were some within a year or two as young as myself; nice boys, full of fun and mischief, who soon initiated me in the sea pranks of “sawing your bed-posts,”--cutting you down head and foot; “reefing your bed-clothes,”--making them up into hard balls which, if properly done, will take one unpractised in the art a good half-hour or more to undo. It used to be a great annoyance to come off deck after a first or middle watch (from eight at night to twelve, or from twelve to four in the morning), perhaps quite wet through, thinking, on being relieved, what a nice sleep you would have, to find, on going to your hammock, all your sheets and blankets made up into hard balls, and a good half-hour’s work in the dark to undo them, particularly when tired and sleepy. During your labour to effect this, you had the pleasure of hearing the mischievous fellows that had a hand in doing it, laughing in their hammocks, and offering their condolences by saying what a shame it was to play such tricks when you were absent on deck, keeping your watch, and recommending you to lick them all round, if you were able, or at all events to retaliate the first opportunity. Blowing the grampus (sluicing you with water), and many other tricks used to be resorted to occasionally. Taking it all in good part, from the persuasion that it was the customary initiation to a sea life, my torments were few, for when the art of tormenting ceases to irritate, it loses the effect intended, and it generally ends by your shipmates saying, “Well, you are a good-natured fellow, and shall not be annoyed any more.”