evious day. My heart almost stopped beating when my name was called
a second time.

"A mistake was made----"

The officer got no farther.

"I knew it, begorra!" I exclaimed, with flushed face and beating
heart.

The officer came close to me, looked straight into my face, and said,
"I have a good mind to put you in the guard room."

I stood still, motionless, silent.

"A mistake was made yesterday," he continued, "in appointing you to
the _Condor_. You are to go, instead, with a detachment to the
_Alexandra_, flagship of the Mediterranean Squadron."

Parade was dismissed. I went to the officer, saluted him, and begged
the privilege of an explanation. In a few words I told him my story
and of the hope of my life, and asked him to forgive me for the
interruption. He looked astonished and replied very quietly, "I am
glad you told me, Irvine. I shall be interested in your future."

On the way to the barrack-room, the spirit of exuberant merriment took
possession of me. I wanted to do something ludicrous or desperate. I
threw my pack into a corner, quickly divested myself of my tunic,
rolled up my shirt sleeves, and struck the table such a blow with my
clinched fist as to make the dishes jump off. Everybody looked around.
My face must have been a picture of facial latitude.

[Illustration: Alexander Irvine as a Marine, at the Age of Nineteen]

"Boys," I said, "here's yer last chance to oblige an Irishman!"

"What is it, Pat?" half a dozen shouted in unison.

"I want to box any three blinderin' idiots in the room, and all
together, begorra! Come on now, ye spalpeens, and show the stuff yer
made of!"

The only answer was a loud outburst of applause and laughter.

In my exuberance, I danced an Irish hornpipe, and my career in the
barrack-room was over.

CHAPTER III

ON BOARD A MAN O' WAR

In January, 1883, the big troop-ship bearing reinforcements for the
Mediterranean Squadron steamed into Malta Harbour and we were
transferred to our respective ships. The _Alexandra_ was supposed to
be the most powerful ship in Victoria's navy at that time. She carried
the flag of Admiral Lord John Hay. She was a little city of the sea
with her divisions of labour, her social distinctions, her alleys and
her avenues. She had a population of about one thousand inhabitants.
These were divided into officers, petty officers, bluejackets and
marines. Around the flagship lay half a dozen other ships of the
fleet. I was