sufficient to keep the hammock in its place. As I finished inspecting
the clever contrivance, the boatswain's mate piped tattoo.

We hurried away to watch from a distance. Laughing and singing, the
fellows trooped down to prepare for turning in; the hard labor of the
day had not dampened their spirits. The deck soon presented an animated
scene. A number of us had slept long enough on board the "New Hampshire"
to become accustomed to man-o'-war style, but the new recruits were like
so many cats in a strange garret. They stood about, glancing doubtfully
at their hammocks and then at their clothes. They did not know just what
to do with either.

"How do you get into the thing, I wonder?" asked the fellow from Harlem,
eyeing his suspended bed.

"Borrow the navigator's step-ladder," suggested the coxs'n of the gig.
"He keeps it in the chart room."

The greatest difficulty was the disposal of our clothes. There were no
wardrobes nor closets nor convenient hooks, and it was strictly against
the rule to leave anything lying around decks. The question was solved
presently by an old naval sailor, who calmly made a neat roll of his
duck jumper and trousers and another of his shoes and shirt. The latter
he tucked into his clews at the foot, and the other he used as a pillow.
We thanked our lucky stars we did not have creased trousers, smooth
coats, vests, white shirts, collars, and neckties to dispose of.

In due time young Potter, who had stayed on deck viewing the scenery
until chased by the corporal of the guard, came down and made for his
hammock. Four dozen pairs of eyes watched him with delightful