certainly seems to be an indifferent scholar.

_Friday, December 15th_.--We crossed the line at half-past four this
morning. Father Neptune was to have paid us another visit in the
evening, but the crew were busy, and there were some difficulties
about arranging the details of the ceremony. The children were
obliged, therefore, to be content with their usual game of drilling
every one that they were able to muster for soldiers, after the
fashion of Captain Brown's 'rifle practice,' or marching up and down
the decks to the strains of Jem Butt's fiddle playing 'Tommy make room
for your Uncle,' accompanied by the somewhat discordant noise of their
own drums. These amusements after sunset, and scrubbing decks and
working at the pumps before sunrise, give us all the much-needed
exercise it is impossible to take in the heat of the daytime.

[Illustration: Tattoo in the Tropics]

_Saturday, December 16th_.--At 1.30 a.m. I was awoke by the strains
of sweet music, and could not at first imagine where I could be, or
whence the sounds came. It proved to be the performance of some
'waits' on board. I do not know who originated the idea, but it was a
very good one, and was excellently carried out. Everybody assembled on
deck by degrees, and the songsters enjoyed a glass of grog when their
labours were finished, after which we all went to bed again.

It had fallen calm yesterday evening, and the funnel was raised at
midnight, but the breeze sprang up again to-day, and at noon the fires
were banked and the sails were set. Of course it then fell calm again,
and at six o'clock we were once more proceeding under steam. There was
one squall in the night, accompanied by the most tremendous rain I