"Eight bells, there, sleepers; d'ye hear the news?--Rouse and bitt, my hearties! Show a leg! Eight bells, Courtenay! and Keene says he will be much obliged if you will relieve him as soon as possible!" These words, delivered in a tone of voice that was a curious alternation of a high treble with a preternaturally deep bass--due to the fact that the speaker's voice was "breaking"--and accompanied by the reckless banging of a tin pannikin upon the deal table that adorned the midshipmen's berth of H.M. frigate _Althea_, instantly awoke me to the disagreeable consciousness that my watch below had come to an end, especially as the concluding portion of the harangue was addressed to me personally…
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