The same lieutenant went out shooting quail at Malta with a revolver, and hit a Maltese in the wrong place, for which error he was heavily fined.
When children's picnic parties were given on board the Bulwark, a quantity of sand was heaped in a well upon the quarter-deck; spades and buckets were provided; and the children dug in the sand to find presents. When that entertainment failed, the bluejackets, ensconced in barrels, performed Aunt Sally, bobbing up their heads, at which the children threw light sticks, and which they invariably missed. I noticed a small boy of about seven years old, a Spaniard, who stood a little way off, contemplating this performance with his large dark eyes, his hands behind his back. Presently, with air of abstraction, he strolled quietly to the back of a barrel, where the deck was littered with thrown sticks. Suddenly he picked up a stick, dodged swiftly to the front of the barrel, and as the seaman's head shot up, hit the poor fellow right on the nose, making it bleed. Then the little wretch roared with laughter and capered in his joy.
On the 19th January, 1907, I took leave of the Fleet with very great regret, and left Malta in the Bulwark, homeward bound.
CHAPTER LIII
SPORTING MEMORIES
I. RIDING AND DRIVING
I rode my first race in Corfu, as a midshipman. An old colonel of artillery, who knew my father, said to me:
"You are a Beresford, an Irishman, and a sailor, and if you can't ride, who can? You shall ride my horse in the next race. He is a hard puller, and if only you stick on he will win."
He was a hard puller, and he did win. I rode in my midshipman's uniform, and lost my cap, and won the race. But the horse ran three times round the course before I could pull him up.