grog_." No. 2000, "_Strike top-gallant-yards_." No. 2110, "_See
anything to windward?_" No. 2800, "_No_."

And as every man-of-war is furnished with a signal-book, where
all these things are set down in order, therefore, though two
American frigates--almost perfect strangers to each other--came
from the opposite Poles, yet at a distance of more than a mile
they could carry on a very liberal conversation in the air.

When several men-of-war of one nation lie at anchor in one port,
forming a wide circle round their lord and master, the flag-ship,
it is a very interesting sight to see them all obeying the
Commodore's orders, who meanwhile never opens his lips.

Thus was it with us in Rio, and hereby hangs the story of my poor
messmate Bally.

One morning, in obedience to a signal from our flag-ship, the
various vessels belonging to the American squadron then in
harbour simultaneously loosened their sails to dry. In the
evening, the signal was set to furl them. Upon such occasions,
great rivalry exists between the First Lieutenants of the
different ships; they vie with each other who shall first have
his sails stowed on the yards. And this rivalry is shared between
all the officers of each vessel, who are respectively placed over
the different top-men; so that the main-mast is all eagerness to
vanquish the fore-mast, and the mizzen-mast to vanquish them
both. Stimulated by the shouts of their officers, the sailors
throughout the squadron exert themselves to the utmost.