booms than
they were cast loose and out again; the yard and stay tackles were for
ever hoisting up and lowering down.

"The expedition with which parties were formed for service; the rapidity
of the frigate's movements, night and day; the hasty sleep, snatched at
all hours; the waking up at the report of the guns, which seemed the
only key-note to the hearts of those on board; the beautiful precision
of our fire, obtained by constant practice; the coolness and courage of
our captain inoculating the whole of the ship's company; the suddenness
of our attacks, the gathering after the combat, the killed lamented, the
wounded almost envied; the powder so burnt into our faces that years
could not remove it; the proved character of every man and officer on
board; the implicit trust and the adoration we felt for our commander;
the ludicrous situations which would occur even in the extremest danger
and create mirth when death was staring you in the face; the hairbreadth
escapes, and the indifference to life shown by all--when memory sweeps
along those years of excitement even now, my pulse beats more quickly
with the reminiscence."

A middy's life was no child's play in those days, was it?

But it is time that I told you the story of how Marryat saved the life
of his messmate Cobbett, in the Mediterranean.

The _Imperieuse_ was lying at anchor in Malta Harbour at the time the
incident happened. It was about the hour of sunset, and the officer on
duty had turned the men of the second dog watch up to hoist the boats to
the davits. The men ran away smartly with the falls, and soon had the
cutters clear of the water and swung high in the air.

At this moment, Cobbett, who was off duty, went into the main-chains
with some lines and bait in order to fish. In endeavouring to get on one
of the ratlines of the lower-rigging his foot unfortunately slipped, and
he fell headlong overboard into the waters of the Grand Harbour. Several
persons witnessed the accident, and the prodigious splash the middy's
body made in striking the water immediately made known to every one else
that a struggle for life had commenced.

Cobbett could not swim a stroke, and was much hampered by his heavy
clothes and boots. At the first plunge he was carried far beneath the
surface, but quickly rose again, puffing and blowing like a grampus, and
making desperate efforts to keep himself afloat.

The officer of the watch promptly called away the lifeboat's cr