"That's a fine ship—that—Ahem!"

"Frigate, my lord."

"Ah, yes.—Ahem! I like the stern—"

"I beg your pardon, my lord, the bow"—

"True!—Ahem, I had forgot. Ask them
to bring my carriage round to the gates, will
you, Mr. Jigger?"

You see, there must be an appearance of
attention to the sea-port—towns they return
members. Thus, you see, it would not do, for
instance, to make too much fuss about the
shameful waste in dismantling a ship when
she's paid off—it's convenient to let the dock-
yard people rush at her, as if she were a vessel
of the enemy's.

One thing often amused me—the trouble
they take, and the expense they go to, about
ships' sterns. Surely, that's not the part of
our ships that we're anxious to show!
Yet, just read this little bit from the book
of Sir Charles Napier's that I mentioned
above.

"No less than twenty-eight ships had their
sterns altered on Sir Robert Sepping's plan,
by a return of the 24th of April, 1846: but the
expense was not stated. I suppose they were
ashamed of it. Twenty-six ships, of different sizes,
by the same return, had their sterns altered on
another plan; some of them twice, and the
"Boscawen" three times; some also that had been
altered by Sir Robert Sepping before, were again
altered on the second plan." (Page 196.)

I got so disgusted at all this, years ago, that
I was very nearly ruining my chances of
success in the profession, by trying to improve
its condition! You don't, perhaps, know,
reader, that it's a punishable offence to write
on a naval matter when you're on full pay.
You, who know best, must say nothing. You,
who suffer, must not cry out—the authorities
being like the shoemaker in the farce, who
says to the customer, "That shoe pinch you!
I made it. I know better."

I'm not vain, but I once did send a plan of
a very tidy vessel to Somerset House. They
took no notice of it for a long time; at last I
heard that "my idea had been anticipated,"
and she made her appearance soon afterwards.
—I have my suspicions on the matter
though!

While we are talking about ship-building,
let me give you another little bit from the
Admiral's book and then you will scarcely
wonder at the results when you see the
organisation.

"In general our attempts at improvement have
turned out failures; and certainly the Admiralty
took an odd manner to get information; for when
a committee of reference was appointed, the
instructions were as follow:—'In the event of any
nautical difference of opinion, between the
surveyor and the committee thus constituted, the
report of the surveyor is to be referred to the
committee, and that of the committee to the
surveyor, who are to state, after having duly weighed
the arguments in favour of their respective views,
whether or not they still adhere to their respective
opinions.' I wonder whether the surveyor ever
attended to such an absurd instruction. I should
think not; and the committee of reference has
been abolished." (Page 190.)

This was the oddest plan to get wisdom,
I ever heard of. It was surely suggested
by the idea of rubbing two sticks together,
to produce fire—though it was never
so successful. Are we surprised at official
eccentricities, after this? Need we wonder
that we so often turn out a ship, which (to
imitate Sir John Falstaff's phrase) is like a
ship "cut out of a cheese-paring after supper?"

I am not going to trouble the reader with
the details of an unfortunate career. Some
years ago, I was made a commander, on which
occasion I received the hearty congratulations
of my grand-children. Oddly enough, and
quite consistently with my strange naval
experiences, I got, the very same day, the news
that "the 'Minotaur', costing seventy-six
thousand six hundred and sixty-two pounds, had
been converted into a convict ship without
being at sea; "and that the "Black Prince"
and "Defence" had suffered the same "sea-
change." My eldest grandson, a rather smart
boy, observes that the transformation of the
ships into nymphs, in Virgil, is the only
metamorphosis of a naval character worthy
of comparison with our modern ones. He
also, occasionally, sings what he calls "a
parody," to the following effect, on our
ships:—

     "Nothing of them but doth change
      Into something rich and strange.
      Dockyards hourly ring their knell—
      There goes the money!—ding, dong, bell."

The line-of-battle-ships and frigates built
since 1815, and cut down and converted, without
being at sea, have cost six hundred and nine-
teen thousand seven hundred pounds. Judge
of the expense of these operations, when I
tell you that the expense of cutting down and
repairing the "Dublin" was fifty-two thousand
eight hundred and thirty-nine pounds.
All this is not very remarkable, when we
remember that a great many ships are built
by "amateurs." Did any man, wanting a
house, ever employ an "amateur" to build
it? Would any one trust the stability of his
first-floor, to the caprices of a speculative
gentleman educated for the Bar or the
Pulpit?

A few years ago, I was nearly rolled to
pieces in a Symondite line-of-battle-ship. I
served some time in an iron steam-vessel;
which class of vessels has proved an entire
blunder, and been, apparently, condemned as
useless. A model shell exploded in one of
them, when I was in her, and killed two men.
In the hope, however, of a reform in the
constitution of the Admiralty, and some abstinence
from this horrible wasting of money, I
conclude here. I still keep up my spirits—
for I shall, under the present system, be an
admiral, if I live to a hundred and twenty!