IN presenting this loosely-linked chain of events in my life I must crave the indulgence of readers and critics if errors, either topographical or in the sequence of events, occur ; for beyond the dry bones of my Navy log - bones so dry that even in a vision Ezekiel could not clothe them with flesh - I have nothing but memory to fall back on.

My memory is, moreover, of the ordinary type, and, though quite up to the average, it is by no means equally good all through. Scenery is indelibly impressed on it, and as I sit and write I have but to close my eyes and any spot on earth that I have ever visited rises up with almost photographic accuracy and with all its local colour. Faces, too, come to me almost as luminously - even those of casual fellow-travellers - so much so that I have come to believe in some process of cerebral photography by which sensitive brain plates reproduce an image, in a chance rencontre, maybe half a century later. But for many important facts, names, and dates, I have been compelled frequently to refer to old shipmates, and even to casual acquaintances, to get them right, and, in such cases, it is quite probable I have not entirely succeeded. I have also briefly given

5

PREFACE

the first years of my boyhood - not that I think them of general interest, but for the reason I give in my opening lines. Our destinies for all time and to all eternity shape themselves early. Morals and manners must be sown, like spring wheat.

I am indebted to the courtesy of the Times, Nineteenth Century, and Fortnightly Review for permission to make extracts from my writings in their respective columns.

6

^ back to top ^