One of my earliest recollections of the prowess of a second mate was in Bombay, on board that ill-fated ship, sunk the other day by the ironclad _Sanspareil_, the _East Lothian_. Her second mate, one of the ordinary, mild, callow, just-out-of-his-apprenticeship type, had been discharged, and the skipper had shipped a fresh one ashore who had been for some time in Nova Scotian ships. He was a splendid specimen of a seaman, not too tall, but finely proportioned, and of a very pleasant face. The first morning he was on board we were washing decks under the boatswain's direction. Mr. Eaton, the new second mate, was having a look round the ship, and strayed forward, where two men were passing water out of the big wash-deck tub. As Mr. Eaton passed, one of them, carelessly slinging a bucket towards the other, dropped it, cutting the deck badly with its edge. With a glance at the new officer, he burst out into furious cursing at the other man for not catching it, and wound up with a few remarks about the ship and all on board, as the custom is in such exercises. Mr. Eaton turned quietly to him, and said, "If you don't shut that foul head up, I'll shut it for you." The man, a huge New York nondescript, stared aghast for a moment, and then, deceived by Mr. Eaton's pleasant look, strode up to him, swearing horribly, and threatening to cut his liver out, among other pleasant things. For all answer the second mate leapt at him, seizing him by the throat and waistband, and next moment he was flying over the rail into the sea! Turning swiftly, Mr. Eaton was just in time to catch the other man in mid-rush at him with a squarely-planted blow on the chin, which landed him a clucking heap in the scuppers. But by this time the other men had seen the fray, and rushed forward, shouting, "Kill him!" with many lurid accompaniments. The boatswain did not stir to interfere, and presently Eaton was the centre of a howling gang threatening his life. But he had armed himself with a "norman," a handy iron bar from the windlass, and none of them dare face him with that terrible weapon. The skipper and the mate came rushing forward, and, like sensible men, ranged themselves by the side of the second mate. In two minutes the whole tone of that ship was altered. It was never again necessary to resort to violence, for the men were respectful and willing, whereas on the passage out the unhappy second mate was afraid for his very life to give an order at night for fear of the volley of abuse to which he was invariably subjected by his watch. So he neglected or, rather, put off things which he should have done, until the skipper could stand it no longer, and gave him a severe scolding, and at his request discharged him in Bombay, a broken-spirited, almost worthless young man.