"A seaman, smiling, swaggered out of the inn, Swinging in one brown hand a gleaming cage Wherein a big green parrot chattered and clung Fluttering against the wires." --ALFRED NOYES (_Drake_). A short digression may perhaps be permitted, if it can portray the long days, when for months at a time little occurs to break the monotony of sea life. The reader may also experience the charitable feeling that, at the expense of his patience, the sailor is indulging in the "grouse" that proverbially is supposed to be so dear to him. Of necessity, work on board ship in wartime must be largely a matter of routine; and, though varied as much as possible, it tends to relapse into "the trivial round, the common task." All day and all night men man the guns ready to blaze off at any instant, extra look-outs are posted, and there are officers and men in the control positions. The ship's company is usually organised into three watches at night, which take turns in relieving one another every four hours. After sunrise the increased visibility gives ample warning of any possible attack. The messdecks, guns, and ship generally are cleaned before breakfast, while the forenoon soon passes in perfecting the guns' crews and controls, and in physical drill. After dinner at noon and a smoke, everyone follows the old custom of the sea, and has a caulk (a sleep)--a custom originated in the days of sailing ships who were at sea for long periods at a time, and watch and watch (i.e. one watch on and one off) had to be maintained both day and night. The men lie about the decks, too tired to feel the want of either mattresses or pillows. The first dog watch (4-6 P.M.) is usually given up to recreation until sunset, when it is time to go to night defence stations. Day in and day out, this programme is seldom varied except to stop and examine a merchant ship now and again.