“The courses were hauled up, main-topsail to the mast, band on the quarter-deck, colors half-mast, and all hands, officers and men, stood uncovered, looking silently and sadly upon the body as it lay upon the gang-boards in its white hammock, ready for the last rites.  Solemnly and most impressively were the services read, and at the words, ’We commit his body to the deep,’ a heavy splash was heard, and poor old Sadler had gone to his long home for ever.  Some of us youngsters ran up in the lee main rigging to see him go down, and as we watched him go glimmering and glimmering down to a mere speck, we wondered where he was bound, and how long it would take him to fetch Davy Jones’ locker on that tack.

“‘Pipe down, sir,’ says the commodore to Mr. Bispham; ‘Pipe down, sir,’ says Mr. Bispham to Mr. Alphabetical Gray, who was officer of the deck; ‘Pipe down, sir,’ says Mr. Gray to the gentleman of the watch; ’Pipe down, sir,’ says this youngster to the boatswain; and then such a twitter of pipes followed this order, and all hands were piped down, while poor old Sadler was still off soundings, and going down as fast as the eighteen-pound shot would take him.

“Now, you know that people coming from a funeral on shore always have a gay sort of air, suppressed it may be, but still cropping out; and just so is it with sailors at sea; for, Sadler’s body committed to the deep, all hands felt better:  the fore and main tacks were hauled aboard, the main yard was filled away, and the jib sheet hauled aft, and we all settled down into every-day life, which, after all, is not half so monotonous on board a man-of-war as you might suppose.

“Well, as I have said, the weather was very hot, the surface of the water was as smooth as a mill-pond, the wind was all up and down the mast, and so the old ship was boxing the compass all to herself, and not making a foot of headway.

“At one bell in the first dog watch, Boyle, the ship’s cook, reported the tea-water ready, and after this came the inevitable evening-quarters—­and some old man-of-war’s men would think the country was going to ’Jemmy Square-toes’ stern first if they didn’t have quarters—­then down hammocks for the night at six bells, and after that just as much of fun, frolic, dance, song and yarn spinning as all hands wanted until eight bells, when the watch was called.

“John Moffitt, the sailing master, the best fellow in the ward-room mess, and a great favorite with the youngsters, was officer of the deck from six to eight o’clock; and my messmate, Perry Buckner, of Scott county, Kentucky, the most dare-devil midshipman of us all, was master’s mate of the forecastle; Hammond, Marshall, Smith and I were the gentlemen of the Watch; Rodney Barlow was quartermaster at the ‘con;’ the lookouts had just been stationed; the men were singing, dancing, spinning yarns and otherwise amusing themselves about the decks, while the old ship was turning lazily around in the splendid moonlight as if admiring herself.