-battle ship, but in the midshipmen's berth we
managed to keep ourselves tolerably warm when below. At length we
sighted the coast of Ireland.

"Hurrah, Mr Terence! There's the old country," said Larry, throwing up
his hat in his excitement, and nearly losing it overboard. "If the
captain would only put into Cork harbour, we would be at home in two or
three days, and shure they'd be mighty pleased to see us at Ballinahone.
What lashings of whisky, and pigs, and praties they'd be after eating
and drinking in our honour, just come home from the wars. Och! I wish
we were there, before a blazing turf fire, with the peat piled up, and
every one of them red and burning, instead of being out here with these
cold winds almost blowing our teeth down our throats."

The picture Larry drew made me more than ever wish to get home. Not
that I was tired of a sea life, though I had found it a pretty hard one
in some respects; but I longed to see my father, and mother, and
brothers, and sisters again, and my kind uncle the major, as I had not
heard from them for many a long day. Letters in those days were
conveyed to distant stations very irregularly. I had only received two
all the time I had been away. Indeed, friends, knowing the great
uncertainty which existed of letters reaching, thought it scarcely worth
while to write them. We could just see the land, blue and indistinct,
over our larboard bow, when the wind veered to the eastward, and instead
of standing for Plymouth, as we expected to do, we were kept knocking
about in the Chops of the Channel for three long weeks, till our water
was nearly exhausted, and our provisions had run short. There we were,
day after day, now standing on one tack, now on another, never gaining
an inch of ground. Every morning the same question was put, and the
same answer given--

"Blowing as hard as ever, and right in our teeth."

We sighted a number of merchant vessels, and occasionally a man-of-war,
homeward-bound from other stations, but all were as badly off as we
were.

At last one morning the look-out at the masthead shouted, "A sail to the
eastward coming down before the wind." It was just possible she might
be an enemy. The drum beat to quarters, and the ship was got ready for
action. On getting nearer, however, she showed English colours, and we
then made out her number to be that of the _Thetis_ frigate. As soon as
we got near each other we both hove-to. Though there wa