When the ship’s bell sounded eight bells, or noon, all the hands which could be spared went below to their dinner, a wonderful stillness reigned, and the deck was devoted to the solemn ceremonies of navigation. Three figures, those of the Navigating Lieutenant, the Sailing-master, and frequently that of S., might be seen balanced in various attitudes, sextant in hand, endeavouring to shoot the sun. The most exciting moment of the twenty-four hours was when the paper was handed in which stated the exact position of the vessel, and the amount she had done on her course in the last twenty-four hours. It was naturally preluded by guesses as to what the result would be, those who had kept themselves informed of the records of the patent log having an undue advantage. The hours between luncheon and tea-time were largely devoted to slumber, and the ship was kept as quiet as possible in order not to disturb the men who had kept the middle watch the preceding night; their rest was apparently much more affected by noise than is generally presumed to be the case with non-brain workers. The same sound varies in its effect on different persons; when it was necessary to use the engine the Sailing-master complained that he could never sleep with that “unnatural noise” going on. He altogether refused to allow that its regular beat might be considered less distracting than the spasmodic jibing of the ship, with its inevitable accompaniment of shouting of orders, stamping, and hauling of ropes; those he maintained were absolutely “natural” sounds. This recalls the attitude of the cook to cabbage day, which, though beloved of the men, is, under certain conditions of the elements, the reverse of pleasant to others on a small vessel, so much so that on many yachts its recurrence is restricted by the ship’s articles; _Mana’s_ cook was of the opinion that the smell was “rather nice”; he evidently considered it a “natural” odour, which perhaps on the whole was fortunate.