My examination was held in the great hall of the Prefecture of the Navy at Brest, before a board of officers, engineers, and professors.  It was a public one; but what alarmed me most at its outset was the presence of all the pupils of the Naval School, who riled the tiers of seats on one side of the hall.  Luckily the sight of some old chums amongst them cheered me up, and as the examination went pretty well I soon saw on their youthful faces, just as actors, they say, read their coming success on their audience at the theatre, that my cause was won, and that I was accepted, not only by the scientific big-wigs but by the universal suffrages of my contemporaries.  Yet I was rejoiced when the sitting was over!

Some days later, at L’Orient, I joined the Sirene frigate, Commander d’Oysonville, as midshipman, and started on an ocean voyage.  This cruise was uneventful, except for a few little incidents such as always occur in a sailor’s life.

Thus, being in the maintop one day, when topsails were being reefed in a strong breeze, a rope chanced to break, twisted round my legs, and carried me into mid air, head downwards.  If the sinewy arms of the captain of the maintop and one of the top men had not caught me as I passed, I should have fallen into the sea or on the deck, and either alternative would have been disagreeable.  Later on, at the end of the cruise, we re-entered Brest in a south-westerly squall, under circumstances which made a very useful impression on me.

We had bad weather for some days, no reliable observations had been taken, and we were very doubtful as to the frigate’s position.  Driving as we were at a great rate, before the gale, we were reckoning on the occasional partial lightening of the fog to catch sight of and recognize some point of land or rock, according to which we might steer our course amongst the reefs which swarm at the entrance of Brest harbour.  We had to be ready to change our course and go about at any moment.  Everybody was on deck, straining his eyes to try and see something, cool, and steady in nerve, as a well-disciplined body of men is in face of any danger.  But one man was not present, our commanding officer, whose prompt judgment and word of command alone could bring us from perilous uncertainty into safety.  Our commander was below, in his cabin, and there he persisted in staying, in spite of the indirect efforts made by the officer of the watch, the second in command, and the navigating officer to get him out of it.  It was incomprehensible, and at the same time very alarming.  Commander d’Oysonville, who was churchwarden of St. Roch when he died, was a kind and very honourable man, but nobody could possibly have been less of a sailor.  He was a first-class organizer, and he carried his theories to the extremist possible limit.  He had one, amongst others, that the captain of a ship ought to command her from his cabin, so as never to appear before his crew except on the most solemn occasions, and it was for the sake