It was to no purpose that the officers swore at them, or sent the midshipmen among them to find out who those "_horse-marines_" and "_sogers_" were.

The sailors were so enveloped in monkey jackets, that in the dark night there was no telling one from the other.
"Here, _you_, sir!" cries little Mr.Pert eagerly catching hold of the skirts of an old sea-dog, and trying to turn him round, so as to peer under his tarpaulin.

"Who are _you_, sir?
What's your name ?" "Find out, Milk-and-Water," was the impertinent rejoinder.
"Blast you! you old rascal; I'll have you licked for that! Tell me his name, some of you!" turning round to the bystanders.
"Gammon!" cries a voice at a distance.
"Hang me, but I know _you_, sir! and here's at you!" and, so saying, Mr.Pert drops the impenetrable unknown, and makes into the crowd after the bodiless voice.

But the attempt to find an owner for that voice is quite as idle as the effort to discover the contents of the monkey jacket.
And here sorrowful mention must be made of something which, during this state of affairs, most sorely afflicted me.

Most monkey jackets are of a dark hue; mine, as I have fifty times repeated, and say again, was white.