earning my living as a gallant seaman in the service of my country, pointing out to mother how I had always hankered after father’s profession, and that she was sure I would never be contented in any shore billet, and might possibly go to the bad if I had my inclinations thwarted!

“Who knows, too,” she added, as a clincher to her argument, “whether Tom may not rise to be a leftennant, ay, and even an admiral, through this good Captain Mordaunt’s introduction!”

“Right you are, my lass, bless you!” chimed in father, rising up enthusiastically from his seat and tossing off the glass of beer he held in his hand. “So he will too, you’ll see, or I’m a Dutchman. Hurrah, Sarah, here’s good luck to the boy and speedy promotion!”

“’Oo-ray, Say-rah!” screamed ‘Ally Sloper,’ the cockatoo, in cordial appreciation, apparently, of this sentiment. “’Ip, ’ip, ’oo-ray!”

That settled the matter.

So, early the following morning, after an affectionate hug from mother and a kiss from Jenny, who came to the corner to see the last of me, I started off for the Saint Vincent with father, who rowed me aboard himself, I being the very first fare he had for the day, though, of course, as you can imagine, he did not earn much by the job.

However, it pleased father at any rate; and, as soon as he had landed me safe and sound at the foot of the accommodation ladder on the port side of the old ship, which lay broadside on, almost on the mud abreast of Haslar Creek, the tide being out, he handed me a big official letter which Captain Mordaunt had given him overnight, as he had promised, recommending me to the commander of the training-vessel, and enclosing certificates of my birth and character.

“There, sonny, them’s yer papers,” said he, thus laconically wishing me good-bye, sheering off out of the way of an approaching galley from the shore whose sternsheets were chock-full of big quartern loaves of bread, and then laying on his oars as I skipped up the ladder. “You jest give that there letter to the cap’en when you sees him, and good luck to you, my lad!”

I waved my hand in reply as he sculled away, all alone now in the wherry, towards the flagship to try and pick up some stray passenger for Gosport or Hardway; and the next instant I had gained the top of the accommodation ladder, and was standing within the entry-port leading on to the middle deck.

“Hullo!” cried a bluejacket stationed at the gangway, who, I noticed, had a red stripe on his arm, and subsequently learnt was one of the ship’s corporals, who serve as police always aboard a man-of-war. “What do you want here, boy?”

“I’ve come to join the ship, sir,” said I to him respectfully, seeing that he was some one in authority, and having been taught by father to be deferential to everybody, especially those who were my superiors, respect to rank and station being the very essence of the discipline of the service. “Got a letter for the cap’en.”

“Give it here, my lad,” said the man more civilly to me, calling to a marine close by. “I’ll have the letter passed off to him at once; and you’d best step into the office there and wait till the master-at-arms can see you.”

So saying, he pointed to a large open sort of cabin, with glass sides to it, immediately adjoining the entry-port, where I found a couple of boys of about my own age, and who had evidently come aboard on a similar errand.

One of these was a red-haired, short, thickset fellow, with an ugly, bulldog sort of a face, whose beetle-brows met over a pair of ferrety eyes, giving him a most forbidding appearance, and I did not like the look of him at all.

The other was a poor ragged chap, without any shoes to his feet; but he had a jaunty devil-me-care air, and such a pleasant smile and merry twinkle about the corners of his mouth, that I could not help taking a fancy to him, at once hoping that we might be chums.

However, I did not have much time for reflection anent either of them; for hardly had we taken stock of each other, when a stoutish middle-aged man, dressed in a tight-fitting monkey-jacket, ornamented with the letters ‘NP’ on the collar, and a row of bright crown-and-anchor buttons down the front, besides having a gold badge bearing the same device over the mohair band of his blue peaked cap, appeared at the doorway of the cabin, or ‘police office,’ as the place is properly called, where we three boys were waiting anxiously to learn our fate.

“Ha, humph! A nice lot of raw material to be licked into shape!” observed this gentleman, whose uniform denoted that he was the master-at-arms, or head of the ship’s police. He was evidently cogitating within himself as to our respective and collective capabilities, for he eyed us critically the while as we stood before him, hats off and mute as mice. “Hi, my lads! I fancy I know what you’re after this fine morning. You want to join the service, I can see, eh?”

“Yes, sir,” the three of us shouted in three different keys—“yes, sir—yes, sir!”

“Keep your hair on, lads,” he said, amused at our eagerness. “Got your papers all right, eh?”

To this the ugly chap, as well as the one to whom I had taken a liking, responded by handing over to the master-at-arms certain official documents representing their certificate of birth to show they were of the proper age, and a declaration of their parents that they were joining Her Majesty’s Service with their full consent and goodwill.

When it came to my turn, though, I had absolutely nothing to show.

“Hullo!” exclaimed the master-at-arms. “Where are your papers, young ’un?”

I was about to explain; but the ship’s corporal who had first spoken to me at the entry-port and taken on to the captain the letter from Captain Mordaunt which father had handed to me, saved all further trouble.

“Here are Tom Bowling’s certificates, sir,” said he, giving the couple of sheets of foolscap in question to his superior officer. “The cap’en says they’re all right, and he’s to be entered if he passes the schoolmaster and is medically fit.”

“That’s all right, then, Mister Bowling,” said the master-at-arms to me, with a mock bow. “Hullo, though, Bowling—Bowling? It strikes me I’ve heard that name before, my lad. Father in the service, eh?”

“He has served in the navy, sir,” I replied. “But he’s a pensioner now, and works as a waterman up and down the harbour.”

“Ah, I thought so! He and I were old shipmates together out in the Ashantee War on the West Coast, and I recollect him well. You are very like him, too, I can see now from the cut of your jib, youngster! You’re a regular chip of the old block.”

“So everybody says, sir,” I said with a grin. “I only hope, sir, I will turn out as good a sailor!”

“Only act up to that wish, my boy, and you’ll do! I say, corporal, take these three lads down to the schoolmaster and see what he makes of them.”

With that, giving me a friendly nod, the master-at-arms dismissed us, and the ship’s corporal conducted us down the nearest hatchway to the lower deck.

At the other end of this we three neophytes were ushered into a large apartment, fitted with rows of desks and benches, arranged in parallel lines, which gave it the appearance of an ordinary schoolroom ashore; the only difference being that there was a harmonium on one side, and a cottage piano on the other, while a large circular band-stand stood in between the two in the centre.

Here one of the assistant-masters took charge of us, placing ‘Ugly’ and ‘Rattlebrains,’ as I had mentally christened my two companions, along with myself at a table in a corner of the room, away from the rest of the boys, some three hundred odd in number, who were all