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Wafting adieu to old New York town, our sea-going home steamed out of New York harbor and down along the Atlantic coast to Hampton Roads, our first stop, anchoring midway between Fortress Monroe and the “Rip Raps,” where tons of coal were placed in the bunkers.

Coaling ship is the most disagreeable work a sailor can perform, but, as the task is usually accomplished in one day, each man tackles the work with that heroic resolve which has so characterized the American “man-of-war’s-man” in battle.

Immediately after coaling, the ship is thoroughly cleansed from truck to kelson; the decks are holy-stoned and the berth deck is shackled, after which the men take a thorough shower-bath, don immaculate uniforms, and all has the refreshing appearance of a swan on a lake.

The essential duty of a “marine” on board a ship is to preserve order; he fulfils the position of both sailor and soldier, and, while he is sometimes dubbed a leather-neck, on account of his tight-fitting uniform, by his more aquatically uniformed shipmate, it is nevertheless noticeable that he is the first to cross the gang-plank when there is trouble in the wind; and the number of “medals of honor” and “certificates of merit” that have been awarded to marines since 1898 is the mute indubitable evidence of his fidelity and bravery; however, this is not to be construed in any way to detract from the loyalty of our brave “Jack tars.”