by With Portrait and Illustrations London S.W. Partridge & Co. 8 and 9 Paternoster Row 1902 Preface This little book is not written on my own initiative. I have not so much as given a hint of my 'naval days,' either from the pulpit or in conversation. But my friends have condemned me for being so reserved about the matter, and for a long time have, with persistent entreaties, been urging me to tell the story of my life. That they may now be satisfied, and that I may be left quiet, and, a

Kingsand, though but a village in size, has a history of its own. Situated about five miles from Plymouth, on the Cornish coast, and being a fishing port, the inhabitants are on intimate terms with the sea. In the summer months one may observe many an indication of this relationship or intimacy'. Youngsters run about the beach and the village barefooted, most of them wearing the orthodox blue jersey, whilst young women, and even older ones, love to sit on the rocks near the sea and work away wit

Now about the temptation already hinted at, and all that followed in its train. The steamer in which I crossed the harbour twice daily, passed quite close to the 'Impregnable,' and thus gave me ample opportunity to scan her vast dimensions, and to gaze in wonder at her tall masts. But best of all was to see the sailor-boys on the forecastle, in the rigging, and manning the boats which were fastened to her lower booms. At the sight of all this my little life seemed to be thrilled, and oh, how I l

A few days prior to our departure, Miss Weston kindly invited the draft ashore to her Sailors' Rest to tea, and presented each of us with a Bible, and gave us all a tender farewell. Never will time erase from my mind the memory of the parting with my loved ones; it pains me now even as I dwell upon it. It was Sunday afternoon, and two days prior to my sailing for Bermuda, when the heartrending parting took place. Love can never say its last 'good-bye,' and especially is this true of a mother's l

I was ordered to join mess No. 7, to which belonged twenty seamen of different ratings. According to naval etiquette, the boy, together with a different seaman each day, who is termed cook of the mess, has to prepare the dinner, fetch the victuals, clean the utensils and take the dinner of any absentee to the galley to keep warm. In addition to these domestic duties, he has his work in the watch to which he belongs. The First West Indian Cruise Refitting work was finished, and in the month of Ja

Homeward Bound! All our stores which we borrowed from Halifax were transferred to the 'Pelican' for her to return. We left St. John's harbour one Sunday evening en route to Plymouth. The crews of the 'Buzzard' and 'Pelican' hailed us 'farewell' as we slowly steamed away from our moorings, and crowds of people gathered on the wharfs to witness our departure. The paying-off pennant was streaming far astern, and every heart felt glad to see it. It was a sign of something beyond expression. Just one

Nearly three weeks had passed—oh, what an anxious time it was! Was there another sorrow in store for me? God forbid. Well, one day at noon, just as I had reached the ship in the staff gig, to which boat I belonged, the quartermaster rushed to the gangway and shouted— "Cowling, you are wanted on the quarterdeck immediately." I lost no time in getting there. In another minute I stood face to face with the captain, who informed me that the Admiralty had granted my discharge. "Right-about-turn! Quic