a deeply-laden convoy, attempting to hold her
course in the chops of the Channel. It blew very hard. The waves were
bounding about us with that short and angry leap peculiar, in
tempestuous weather, to the narrow seas between England and France. It
was excessively dark; and, not carrying sufficient sail to tack, we were
wearing the ship every half-hour, showing, of course, the proper signal
lights to the convoy. We carried also the customary poop-light of the
commodore.

Such was the state of affairs at a little after nine. The captain, the
first-lieutenant, the master, the officer of the watch, and the channel
pilot that we had taken on board off the Scilly Islands, with myself;
were all on deck. Both the signal midshipmen were enjoying the comforts
of sickness in their warm hammocks below. Now, I will endeavour to give
a faithful account of what happened; and let the unprejudiced determine,
in the horrible calamity that ensued, how much blame was fairly
attributable to me. I must premise that, owing to shortness of number,
even when all were well, there was no forecastle midshipman.

A dreadful gust of icy wind, accompanied by the arrowy sleet, rushes aft
rather heading us.

"The wind is getting more round to the east. We'd better wear at once,"
said the pilot to the master.

"The pilot advises us to wear," said the master to the captain.

"Mr Farmer," said the captain to the first-lieutenant, "watch and
idlers, wear ship."

"Mr Pond," said Mr Farmer to the lieutenant of the watch (a diminutive
and peppery little man, with a squeaking voice, and remarkable for
nothing else excepting having a large wife and a large family, whom he
was impatient to see), "wear."

"Mr Rattlin," squeaked Mr Pond through his trumpet, "order the
boatswain's mate to turn the watch and idlers up--wear ship."

"Boatswain's mate," bawled out the sleepy and sulky Mr Rattlin, "watch
and idlers, wear ship."

"Ay, ay, sir--whew, whew, whittle whew--watch and idlers, wear ship!
Tumble up there, tumble up. Master-at-arms, brush up the
bone-polishers."

"What an infarnal nonsensical ceremony!" growled the pilot, _sotto
voce_; "all bawl and no hawl--lucky we have plenty of sea-room."

"Jump aft, Mr Rattlin," said the captain, "and see that the
convoy-signal to wear is all right."

Mr Rattlin makes one step aft.

"Are the fore-topmast staysail halliards well manned, Mr Rattlin?--Jump
forward and see," said the officer of the