bservation went, most of the disciplinary officers, the lieutenants,
rather sympathized with irregularities, within pretty wide limits. A
midshipman was a being who traditionally had little but the exuberance
of his spirits to make up for the discomforts of his lot. The
comprehensive saying that what was nobody's business was a
midshipman's business epitomized the harrying of his daily life, with
its narrow quarters, hard fare, and constant hustling for poor pay.
Like the seaman, above whom in earlier days he stood but little, the
midshipman had then only his jollity--and his youth--to compensate;
and also like the seaman a certain recklessness was conceded to his
moments of enjoyment. The very name carried with it the privilege of
frolicking.

The old times of license among seafaring men were still of recent
memory, and, though practice had improved, opinion remained tolerant.
The gunner of the first ship in which I served after graduation told
me that in 1832, when he was a young seaman before the mast on board a
sloop-of-war in the Mediterranean, on Christmas Eve, there being a
two-knot breeze--that is, substantially, calm--at sundown the ship was
put under two close-reefed topsails for the night--storm canvas--and
then the jollity began. How far it was expected to go may be inferred
from the precautions; and we gain here some inkling of the phrase
"heavy weather" applied to such conditions. But of the same ship he
told me that she stood into the harbor of Malta under all sail, royal
and studding sails, to make a flying moor; which, I must explain to
the unprofessional, is to drop an anchor under sail, the cable running
out under the force of the ship's way till the place is reached for
letting go the second anchor, the ship finally being brought to lie
midway between the two. An accurate eye, a close judgment as to the
ship's speed, and absolute promptness of execution are needed; for all
the sail that is on when the first anchor goes must be off before the
second. In this case nothing was started before the first. Within
fifteen minutes all was in, the ship moored, sails furled, and yards
squared, awaiting doubtless the final touches of the boatswain.
Whether the flag of the port was saluted within the same quarter-hour,
I will not undertake to say; it would be quite in keeping to have
attempted it. System, preparation, and various tricks of the trade go
far to facilitate such rapidity. Now I dare say that some of