The voyage was begun by the ship being towed out of dock down to Gravesend, where she brought up for twenty-four hours to enable the crew to get over their final shore carouse. The captain—in this case a tall, thin man wearing an eyeglass, himself a scientist and a great authority on the law of storms—would come on board, and the tug would take the ship down to the North Foreland and then cast off. If it was a fair wind the Blackwaller would then carry on down Channel. If it was foul she would anchor and wait for a slant in the Downs. In spite of their sailorlike, alcoholic weakness, these hands were very fine fellows, specially selected, who had sailed in the old East Indiamen or Blackwallers since boyhood, and very rarely did they ever serve in other ships. There was, then, practically continuity of employment, and it is the lack of this which in the twentieth century is the weakest element of the Mercantile Marine. In these ships there was nothing slovenly, and every one had to be correctly and smartly uniformed. The officers’ cap in those days had the old-fashioned peak at right angles, like that still worn by the officers of the Dutch Navy to-day. Every morning the captain’s steward would convey to the midshipmen the instructions as to what rig was to be worn, as, for instance, in fine weather blue jackets, white waistcoats and trousers. In many other merchant ships there was trouble with the crew, which consisted of a mixture of pier-jumpers, gaol-birds and the riff-raff of all the European ports; but it was seldom that the Blackwall men gave any trouble. Every Sunday there was service on the poop in fine weather, or in the saloon when the weather was bad, and all hands were supposed to attend. In harbour the Blackwall ships always looked smart and clean, with yards squared to mathematical precision like a naval frigate. As a sign of mourning the custom was to paint all the white parts of the ship a pale blue, such as the white ribbon round the hull, the lower masts, the boats, and so on. There were some ships in which the discipline was stricter than in others, according to whether the captain was more disposed towards man-o’-war fashion. Those ships which ran to India were more strict in their discipline and more formal in their routine than the vessels which sailed to Australia. In the former the passengers consisted chiefly of Army officers and their families, or civil servants going out to take up their appointments, or of consumptives voyaging for their health. But in the Australian ships life was more easy-going, with concerts, theatricals, dances, and even bazaars. In both ships there was a good deal of fraternising and philandering between the younger officers and the eternal feminine, which was natural enough during those long voyages.