similar example to-day. Captains still have their idiosyncrasies, but not of such a marked nature. There may be indolent captains, like he who was nicknamed “The Sloth;” or, less likely, prying captains, like he in “Peter Simple,” who made himself so unpopular that he lost all the good sailors on board, and had to put up with a “scratch crew;” or (a comparatively harmless variety) captains who amuse their officers with the most outrageous yarns, but who are in all else the souls of honour. Who can help laughing over that Captain Kearney, who tells the tale of the Atta of Roses ship? He relates how she had a puncheon of the precious essence on board; it could be smelt three miles off at sea, and the odour was so strong on board that the men fainted when they ventured near the hold. The timbers of the ship became so impregnated with the smell that they could never make any use of her afterwards, till they broke her up and sold her to the shopkeepers of Brighton and Tunbridge-wells, who turned her into scented boxes and fancy articles, and then into money. The absolutely vulgar captain is a thing of the past, for the possibilities of entering “by the hawse-hole,” the technical expression applied to the man who was occasionally in the old times promoted from the fo’castle to the quarter-deck, are very rare indeed nowadays. Still, there are gentlemen—and there are gentlemen. The perfect example is a _rara avis_ everywhere. [Illustration: ON DECK OF A MAN-OF-WAR, EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.] The true reason why a captain may make his officers and men constitute an agreeable happy family, or a perfect pandemonium of discontent and misery, consists in the abuse of his absolute power. That power is necessarily bestowed on him; there must be a head; without good discipline, no vessel can be properly handled, or the emergencies of seamanship and warfare met. But as he can in minor matters have it all his own way, and even in many more important ones can determine absolutely, without the fear of anything or anybody short of a court-martial, he may, and often does, become a martinet, if not a very tyrant. The subordinate officer’s life may be rendered a burden by a cantankerous and exacting captain. Every trifling omission may be magnified into a grave offence. Some captains seem to go on the principle of the Irishman who asked, “Who’ll tread on my coat tails?” or of the other, “Did you blow your nose at me, sir?” And again, that which in the captain is no offence is a very serious one on the part of the officer or seaman. He may exhaust the vocabulary of abuse and bad language, but not a retort may be made. In the Royal Navy of to-day, though by no means in the merchant service, this is, however, nearly obsolete. However tyrannically disposed, the language of commanders and officers is nearly sure to be free from disgraceful epithets, blasphemies, and scurrilous abuse, cursing and swearing. Officers should be, and generally are, gentlemen.