Tom also by this time was dropping off to sleep, and Gerald shortly after followed his example. They ought properly to have kept the morning watch, but they were not called till the hammocks were piped up. They had then to turn out, feeling utterly unable to do anything but sit on their chests and languidly clutch their wet clothes. The two marines acting as their servants at length came aft, looking as pale and miserable as they were, and suggested that it would be wiser to get out some dry things. Dressing, after several pauses, was accomplished, and washing having been dispensed with, they managed to reel into the berth. There sat Higson, with coffee-pot in hand, and most of the other oldsters holding on to cups and plates, the biscuit-boat and more substantial viands being secured by puddings on the table. "I've ordered some fat bacon especially for you fellows," said the former, looking at Tom and Gerald; "it's the best thing for you." "Oh, don't," they groaned in chorus. "Horrible!" "Why don't? You'll never become sailors till you've eaten half a pound apiece every morning, for at least a week." The fat bacon was brought. Tom tried to lift a piece to his mouth at the end of his fork, but his hips curled, he could not have done it to save his life. Gerald essayed to do likewise with the same result. They were not alone in their misery. The assistant-surgeon, two clerks, and another midshipman looked equally pale and miserable. "Come, come, youngsters, munch away," said Hickson; "it's time to finish breakfast." "I wish to be a sailor," cried Tom, again manfully lifting the piece of pork towards his loathing lips, but though his spirit was high his feelings overcame him, and he bolted out of the berth, followed by Gerald and several others, amid the laughter of the seasoned hands. Tom's misfortunes did not end here, for the frigate giving a violent roll he butted head foremost right between the legs of Mr Jennings, the tall lieutenant of marines, who not being especially firm on them just then, was upset in a moment. The rest of the party, including McTavish, the assistant-surgeon, escaping from the berth now came tumbling over them, and there the whole lay stretched on the deck, kicking frantically, as if knocked over by a dose of canister fired into their midst. The prostrate officer, utterly unable to rise, shouted for some time in vain for assistance; at length his cries were heard by the corporal of marines and two of his men, who hurrying aft to his rescue, hauled off the superincumbent midshipmen and McTavish, and set Lieutenant Jennings, foaming with indignation, on his legs. "Beg pardon, sir, I didn't intend it," cried Tom; "I won't do it again."