“. . . I am going to be here another week: as I think it really has freshened me up a bit. Especially going out in a Boat with my good Fletcher, though I get perished with the N.E. wind. I believe I never shall do unless in a Lodging, as I have lived these 40 years. It is too late, I doubt, to reform in a House of one’s own. . . . Dove, [101] unlike Noah’s Dove, brings no report of a green leaf when I ask him about the Grass seed. . . .”

“Lowestoft, April 3, ’66. [Ib.]

“. . . Looking over the Tombstones of the old Churchyard this morning, I observed how very many announced the Lease of Life expired at about the same date which I entered upon last Saturday [fifty-seven]. I know it is time to set one’s House in order—when Mr Dove has done his part.”

“Cowes, Isle of Wight, Friday, June 30, 1866.
[‘Letters,’ p. 305.]

“We got here very well on Tuesday eveng. Wednesday I sent Newson and Crew over to Portsmouth, where they didn’t see the one thing I sent them for, namely, Nelson’s Ship, the ‘Victory,’ but where they bought two Pair of Trousers, which they call ‘Dungaree.’

Yesterday we went to Poole—a place I had long a very slight Desire to see; and which was not worth the seeing. To-day we came back here: I regretting rather we had not run further along the Coast to Weymouth and Teignmouth, where I should have seen my Friend Mansfield the Shipwright. It was a little weakness of mine, in not changing orders, but, having talked of going only to Poole, I left it as it was. The weather has been only too fine: the sea too calm. Here we are in front of this pretty place, with many Yachts at anchor and sailing about us: nearly all Schooners, little and great, of all which I think we are the ‘Pitman’ (see Moor’s ‘Words’). I must say I am very tired of seeing only Schooners. Newson was beaten horribly yesterday by a Ryde open Boat of about 7 or 8 tons, which stood right into the wind, but he soon afterwards completely distanced a Billy-boy, which put us in Spirits again. I am very contented (in my way) pottering about here alone, or with my Crew of two, and I believe cd bundle on for a Month in such a way. But I shall soon be home. I have thought of you To-day when your Sale is going on, at the same time as my Sail. Pretty Wit! . . .”

* * * * *

The next letter refers to an accident that befell the

Scandal. She was lying at Lowestoft, in the Fishmarket basin, when a huge Continental steamer came drifting down on her. “Mr FitzGerald,” so Mr Spalding tells me, “just said in his slow melodious voice, [103] ‘My poor little ship will be cracked like a nutshell;’ and he took my arm to force me ashore. But I refused to go unless he went too, and just then the cable held on the weather-side of the steamer towering up above us; still, our ‘channel-boards,’ over which the shrouds are tautened, were crushed up flat to the yacht’s side, and perhaps some stanchions were injured too.”

“Scandal, Sept. 19, ’66. [Ib.]