The Fleet generally was sailing under very easy canvas (double-reefed topsails), as the wind was pretty strong, and we used to wear in succession after a few hours’ sail on one tack. Day after day this went on; and the only interest I took in it was in watching the ships while the evolution of wearing was going on: turning through the curve of a half circle, endeavouring to keep their proper distances apart. Of course, some of the ships carried more sail than others, as there was a material difference in their respective speeds. It was monotonous work, and, the weather being still cold and occasionally pretty rough, many of us suffered a good deal from sea-sickness and ennui. The paddle steamers used to ply across to Copenhagen, or other port, for fresh food; but I do not think the blue-jackets got much of this fare, and I know the gun-room mess did not. Indeed, we had a very wearisome fortnight during breezy weather, jogging about under easy sail off Gotska Sands. All was done in quite the old naval style, and gave me an insight into “the good old days.” A great deal of salt pork and salt junk, with a moderate allowance of water, was our fare; and all were desirous of pushing on.
I find myself writing about this time, evidently very homesick:—
People tell me I shall like the Service better as I get on, but one gives up home and all its joys for coming to sea, or otherwise for honour; one can do without honour but not without home, besides, why should I not get honour at home as well as at sea?
I quote this because it is curious to see how a boy’s mind wavers; for shortly afterwards, having seen a few shots fired at Hango at some Russian forts, I wrote home:—
I like the Service better every day. I begin to understand things, and they interest me.
We rode out a heavy gale in Kioge Bay, while some of the ships, dragging their anchors, were steaming ahead, with topmasts struck and two anchors down.