The crew of every ship should be exercised or drilled, if not as frequently, at least specifically, in the methods of picking up a man, as they are trained in the exercise of the great guns and small arms, or in that of reefing topsails.
Every one who has been much at sea must remember the peculiar sounds which pervade a ship when a man is known to have fallen overboard.

The course steered is so suddenly altered, that as she rounds to the effect of the sails is doubled; the creaking of the tiller-ropes and rudder next strike the ear; then follows the pitter-patter of several hundred feet in rapid motion, producing a singular tremor, fore and aft.

In the midst of these ominous noises may be heard, over all, the shrill startling voice of the officer of the watch, generally betraying in its tone more or less uncertainty of purpose.

Then the violent flapping of the sails, and the mingled cries of "Clear away the boats!" "Is the life-buoy gone ?" "Heave that grating after him!" "Throw that hen-coop over the stern!" "Who is it, do you know ?" "Where did he fall from ?" "Can he swim ?" "Silence!" An impetuous, and too often an ill-regulated rush now succeeds to gain the boats, which are generally so crowded that it becomes dangerous to lower them down, and more time is lost in getting the people out again than would have manned them twice over, if any regular system had been prepared, and rendered familiar and easy by practice beforehand.
I could give a pretty long list of cases which I have myself seen, or have heard others relate, where men have been drowned while their shipmates were thus struggling on board who should be first to save them, but who, instead of aiding, were actually impeding one another by their hurry-skurry and general ignorance of what really ought to be done.

I remember, for example, hearing of a line-of-battle-ship, in the Baltic, from which two men fell one evening, when the ship's company were at quarters.