been badly wounded. Old Jimmy Bartlett of my watch had a
hole in his chest half an inch deep from a boarding pike. He
had also lost a finger, and a bullet had passed through his
cheek. One of his fights was in the 'Amethyst' frigate when,
under Sir Michael Seymour, she captured the 'Niemen' in 1809.
Often in the calm tropical nights, when the helm could take
care of itself almost, he would spin me a yarn about hot
actions, cutting-outs, press-gangings, and perils which he
had gone through, or - what was all one to me - had invented.

From England to China round the Cape was a long voyage before
there was a steamer in the Navy. It is impossible to
describe the charm of one's first acquaintance with tropical
vegetation after the tedious monotony unbroken by any event
but an occasional flogging or a man overboard. The islands
seemed afloat in an atmosphere of blue; their jungles rooting
in the water's edge. The strange birds in the daytime, the
flocks of parrots, the din of every kind of life, the flying
foxes at night, the fragrant and spicy odours, captivate the
senses. How delicious, too, the fresh fruits brought off by
the Malays in their scooped-out logs, one's first taste of
bananas, juicy shaddocks, mangoes, and custard apples - after
months of salt junk, disgusting salt pork, and biscuit all
dust and weevils. The water is so crystal-clear it seems as
though one could lay one's hands on strange coloured fish and
coral beds at any depth. This, indeed, was 'kissing the lips
of unexpected change.' It was a first kiss moreover. The
tropics now have ceased to remind me even of this spell of
novelty and wonder.