that squadron--the _Alexandra_--had a library and a school on board,
so I made this kind of a proposition to the Almighty. I did it, of
course, with a humble spirit and a devout mind; but I did it in a very
clear and positive manner: "Give me the flagship for the sake of the
schooling I will get there, and I will give you my life!"

I prayed daily and nightly, for nearly six months for that object, and
in my anxiety over the matter I made a dicker with a man who was to
embark at the same time--that, if he should be lucky enough to get the
flagship and I should be appointed to some other ship, I would give
him a money consideration and request the commander to permit us to
exchange. This was a break in my faith, and I quickly corrected it,
leaving the entire matter in supernatural hands.

There came a time when I was sure in my mind that I would get that
ship--a time when there was no longer zest in praying for it; and
there entered into my praying phrases of gratitude instead of request.
There came also a time when I confided this assurance to my closest
friend, to whom it was all moonshine. He laughed and poked fun at the
idea. It became a barrack-room joke and I was hurt and chagrined.

The eventful morning arrived. Those for embarkation were called out
for parade in full marching order, and the roll was called. The
universe seemed to hang in the balance that morning. Finally the
moment arrived. My name was called. I took one pace to the front,
ported my arms and awaited the verdict. My name and company were
called, and this assignment: "To Her Majesty's ship _Condor_!"

My comrades giggled and were sharply rebuked: I gave vent to an
inarticulate guttural sound and was also rebuked. After parade I went