‘I remember when I was a boy in Ajax, and the Apollon was blazing away at us like Guy Fawkes’s night, a spent eighteen-pound ball came in at our port. The lieutenant – it was Mr Horner: you remember him, Bonden?’ ‘Oh yes, sir. A very sprightly gentleman, that loved his laugh.’ ‘He picked it up, called for a piece of chalk, wrote Post Paid on the ball, rammed it down our gun, and so sent it back in double quick time.’ ‘Ha, ha, ha!’ went the gun-crew and their neighbours on either side. ‘And not long after that, he was made a post-captain, ha, ha, ha!’
