Do you agree, eh, to our making order out of chaos ?" "All right! I'll try if you'll help me," I answered, reciprocating his friendly advances, as he seemed a nice fellow--much nicer, I thought, than that little snob Sam Weeks, with his vegetable-marrow sort of face, my original dislike to the latter being far from lessened by the observation Jerrold told me he had made about me! "I like things to be neat and tidy; and as my father used to say, `cleanliness is next to godliness.'" "I'm afraid, then," chuckled Tom Jerrold, "we poor sailors are in a bad way; for, although we live on the water and have the ocean at command, I don't believe there's a single foremast hand that washes himself oftener than once a week, at least while he's at sea, from year's end to year's end." "Oh!" I exclaimed, making him laugh again at my expression of horror.
"Aye, it is so; I'm telling the truth, as you'll find if you ask the boatswain, whom I see you've got chummy with already.

But, by Jove, they're just going to set the tops'les; and we'll have the skipper or old Sandy Saunders after us with a rope's-end if we stop jawing here any longer." From the way he spoke you would think we had been talking for a very long time; but, really, our conversation had only lasted a couple of minutes or so at the outside, while I was making myself tidy, using a little pocket-comb my mother had given me just before I left home, to arrange my hair, instead of imitating Jerrold with his palm brush.

I also utilised the bucket of sea-water as an improvised looking-glass so as to get the parting of my hair straight and fix my collar.
The ropes I had heard thrown about the decks were the halliards and clewlines, buntlines, and other gear belonging to the topsails being let go, the gaskets having been thrown off before I was awake; and now at a quick word of command from Mr Mackay--"Sheet home!"-- the sails on the fore and main-topsail yards were hauled out to the ends of the clews and set, the canvas being thus extended to its full stretch.
Then followed the next order.
"Man the topsail halliards!" Thereupon the yards were swung up and the sails expanded to the breeze; and then, the outer jib being hoisted at the same time and the lee- braces hauled in, the man at the wheel putting the helm up the while, the ship payed off on the port tack, making over towards the French coast so as to take advantage of the tide running down Channel on that side.

At the same time, the towing-hawser which had up to now still attached us to the tug, was dropped over the bows as we got under weigh.
The Silver Queen seemed to rejoice in her freedom, tossing her bowsprit in the air as she cast off from the tug; and then, heeling over to leeward as she felt the full force of the breeze on her quarter, she gave a plunge downwards, ploughing up the water, now beginning to be crested with little choppy waves as the wind met the current, and sending it sparkling and foaming past her bulwarks, and away behind her in a long creamy wake, that stretched out like a fan astern till it touched Margate sands in the distance.
I now went up on the poop, avoiding the weather side, which Tim Rooney had told me the previous evening was always sacred to the captain or commanding officer on duty; for I noticed that the thin pilot in the monkey-jacket, who had just mounted the companion stairs from the cuddy after having his late breakfast, was walking up and down there with Captain Gillespie, the latter smiling and rubbing his hands together, evidently in good humour at our making such a fine start.
"Good morning!" said Mr Mackay, who was standing at the head of the lee poop ladder, accosting me as I reached the top.

"I hope you had a sound, healthy sleep, my boy ?" "Oh yes, thank you, sir," I replied.