Volume 1 — GREENWICH HOSPITAL, (continued 2)

“Well, every soul fore-and-aft mustered in the twinkling of a hand-spike, and they all crowded together as if they’d been stowed with a jack-screw for a long voyage; and then the captain up and tells ’em that he meant to head the boats himself and cut the Harmoine out, if they would do their duty like men and back him. My eyes, if there warn’t a cheer then, there never was one before nor since; and the lads, to seal the bargain, gived one another a grip of the fist that would have squeezed a lemon as dry as a biscuit.

“So, you see, the murder was out, and every man betwixt the cabin windows and the figure-head volunteered to the duty; but the captain said he wouldn’t take more than one hundred, including officers and marines; he was sorry to leave any behind, as he believed them to be all brave fellows, but some must stay to work the ship, and, if necessary, bring her into action.

“Well, the men were picked out, the muskets, pistols, tommyhawks, and cutlashes got ready, and long hook-ropes coiled away in the starn-sheets of each boat, and clinched to the ring in the bottom; the oars and rullocks were muffled and well greased, so that not a sound might be heard louder than the sigh of a periwinkle.

“The sun set soon after six o’clock, and as soon as twilight came on,—which in them latitudes, when the sun is on the equator, and it was very near it then, comes on in a few minutes,—the ship was hove in stays and stood in-shore, with a pleasant breeze and a stern-swell setting after her. About eight o’clock the wind died away, the yards were laid square, and the boats hoisted out, whilst those on the quarters were lowered, and all were soon manned for the expedition and shoved off. Whilst they’re pulling in-shore, messmates, I’ll just elucidate Captain Hamilton’s plan of attack.

“Now, mind me, this here paper of ’bacca shall be one battery, and this here ’bacca-box shall be the other battery, and this here shut-knife shall be the Harmoine,—the laniard sarving for one cable out of the hawse-hole, and this piece of marline for the other cable out of the gun-room port;—[he arranged the articles on the table.] Now the boats were to pull in, and the boarding parties had each a different place to board at. As soon as they got upon deck, the boats with their respective crews were to cut the cables and then go a-head to tow; whilst four of the boarders were instantly to shin aloft to loose the fore-topsail and two to loose the mizen-topsail, which, if possible, were to be sheeted home to catch the breeze coming off the land. The Surprise was to come in close to the harbour’s mouth to act as circumstances required.

“The boats kept close together, but didn’t make any quick head-way, as the captain meant to get in about midnight, when he expected the Spaniards would have their eyes buttoned up, and their ears plugged with their nightcaps, like the hawse-holes in blue water.

“Well, d’ye see, it was just about eight bells when the mast-heads of the Harmoine showed above the dark mass of land, and the light rigging looked like a fine spider’s web traced on the silvery sky; and there too fluttered the yellow rag, that was soon to be humbled under the saucy pennant of St. George. On pulled the boats, and except the ripple of the oars and the hissing of the foam in their wakes, silence slept deep and still, disturbed only by the moan of the sea as it broke upon the rocky shore.

“Suddenly there was a flash, and before the report could be heard, grape-shot were jumping about the boats and splashing up the water like a shoal of flying-fish at play. This firing was from a couple of guard-boats, each mounting a twelve-pounder; and if it did no other mischief, it aroused Jack Spaniard, who it appears was up and rigged like a sentry-box; and before a cat could lick her ear, flames of fire seemed to be bursting from the dark rocks, like lightning from a black thunder-cloud: it was the frigate, speaking with her main-deck and fokstle guns.

“Finding that the enemy were prepared, the captain had less delicacy in alarming them out of their sleep, and so the boats’ crews gave three tremendous cheers. Mayhap, your honour never heard the cheers on going into action, when the voice of man goes from heart to heart and stirs up all that is brave and noble in the human breast; it invigorates and strengthens every timber in a fellow’s frame, and is to the weak or mild, what mother’s milk is to the infant.

“Well, they gave three British cheers as would have stirred up the blood of an anchor-stock, if it had any, and on they dashed, stretching to their oars with a good-will and making the water brilliant with their track as they pulled for the devoted frigate, then about three-quarters of a mile distant, which kept sending forth the red flames from the muzzles of her guns as the boats gallantly approached.

“Captain Hamilton boarded on the starboard bow, and with the gunner and eight or ten men cleared the fokstle. The doctor boarded on the larboard bow, and with his party joined the captain; and the other boats having discharged their men, the whole of the boarders attacked the quarter-deck, where the Spanish officers had collected and fought with desperation. And now mind the downright impudence of the thing; for whilst they were fighting for possession on deck, the sails were loosed aloft, the cables were cut, and the boats were towing the ship out of the harbour; and the craft, as if she knew she warn’t honestly come by, was walking off from the land like seven bells half-struck;—if that warn’t going the rig, then blow me if I know what is.

“When the Spaniards saw that the ship was actually under way with sail on her, and the boarding parties cutting down all afore ’em, a great number jumped overboard and some ran below, whilst the killed and wounded lay in all directions. About this time Captain Hamilton received such a tremendous crack on the head from the butt end of a musket, as brought a general illumination into his eyes and stretched him senseless on the deck. A Spaniard, who had fallen near him, raised his dagger to stab him to the heart; but the tide of existence was ebbing like a torrent, his brain was giddy, his aim faltered, and the point descended in the captain’s right thigh. Dragging away the blade with the last convulsive energy of a death-struggle, he lacerated the wound. Again the reeking steel was upheld, and the Spaniard placed his left hand near the captain’s heart to mark his aim more sure: again the dizziness of dissolution spread over his sight, down came the dagger into the captain’s left thigh, and the Spaniard was a corpse.

“The upper deck was cleared, and the boarders rushed below on the main-deck to complete their conquest. Here the slaughter was dreadful, till the Spaniards called out for quarter and the carnage ceased; but no sooner was the firing on board at an end, when the sodgers at the batteries—who had been wondering at the frigate moving away as if by magic, and had been calling a whole reg’ment of saints to help ’em,—let fly from nearly two hundred pieces of cannon, as if they were saying their prayers and wanted the British tars to count the beads. Howsomever the wind was very light close in-shore, and the smoke mantled thick and heavy on the waters, so as to mask the ship from view; but a chance twenty-four-pounder hulled her below the water-mark, and they were obliged to rig the pumps. The main-mast, too, at one time was in danger from the stay and spring-stay being shot away, and the head swell tumbling in made the frigate roll heavily; but about two in the morning they got out of gun shot, the towing boats were called alongside, and every thing made snug. Thus in an hour and three-quarters the frigate was boarded, carried, and clear from the batteries; but, to be sure, considering the little wind there was, and the head swell setting in, she did stretch her legs as if glad to be out of bad company, and the quarantine flag;[2]—for you know, Darby, none in our sarvice likes to be yellowed,—[Darby gave another chuckle, and then took a good pull at his mug to drown remembrances,]—it looks so like a land-crab.

“Well, messmates, sail was soon made on the Harmoine, the shot-hole was plugged up, and the party mustered; when there were found to be only twelve men wounded, amongst whom were the captain and the gunner, Mr. Maxwell. There was not one man killed on the British side, but the Spaniards had 119 killed and 97 wounded, most of them dangerously, and the decks were again stained with human blood, some of which was no doubt shed by those murderers and traitors who had mutinied.

“At day-light next morning the Spaniards were indulged with the sight of both ships standing off shore, and the Harmoine with a British ensign and pennant over the Spanish colours. The prisoners were put on board of a schooner, that was captured during the day, and sent ashore; and the Surprise, with her prize, stood for Jamaica, where she arrived seven days afterwards, and brought up at Port Royal.

“You may be sure, messmates, Captain Hamilton was well received; the Parliament-men at the island gave him a beautiful sword that cost three hundred guineas; he was made a knight on, and the Harmoine was called the Retaliation, and she was immediately put in commission as an English frigate; though in logging her name in the navy list, the Lords of the Admiralty changed it to the Retribution, and I had the honour to be drafted on board her as captain of the main-top.

“Captain Hamilton was invalided home on account of his wounds; but the packet was taken by a French privateer, and he went to see Boneypart, who treated him like a messmate for his bravery, and allowed him to be exchanged for six French middies; and now, my lads, I’ve told you all I know about the recapture of the Harmoine.”

Of course, I expressed my acknowledgments for the obligations I was under to him for his narrative, but this seemed to nettle the old tar very much. How far his account is correct I must leave others to determine, and only regret that I have not been able to do the worthy soul more justice, but it would be impossible for any written description to give an adequate idea of his mode of recital. Our glasses were replenished, for I saw that the old blades, like cutters on a wind, were determined to have a taut leech to their jibs by taking a long and strong pull at the purchase; and expecting to gather a fund of anecdote, I e’en made the most of it, and determined to gladden their hearts.

“Well, it’s of no manner of use to go to argufy the matter,” said the old boatswain’s-mate, “and all I’ve got to say is this here. Bill has spun that yarn like a patent winch, and I’m sartin, sooner or later, murder will always meet with its punishment. Many of them mutineers were hung, and I’m thinking that there was one or two jewel-block’d that never set foot on the Harmoine’s deck in their born days; but their lives were sworn away, and arter that they went aloft without touching a rattlin. I knew one on ’em, but I’ll not rip up old grievances like a piece of tarred parcelling. I was at Port Royal when the ships came in, and well remember seeing ’em both. There’s one thing however, messmate, you forgot to tell us, and in the regard of a generous spirit, which I take to be consort with bravery, it ought not to go untold; and that is this here, that Sir Edward divided £500 of his own prize-money amongst the bold fellows who shared the victory with him.”

“That was nobly and generously done,” said I; “such a man deserves to be immortalized.”

“Well, your honour, he was mortalized,” replied the old man; “for on that station of musketoes and grog-blossoms, there warn’t a blue jacket nor yet a jolly but would have followed him into the devil’s kitchen at cooking time. And it’s a rum place that West Ingees, too. I remembers being ashore at one of the resurrections among the niggers, and the ship’s corporal stuck his spoon in the wall; because, I’m thinking, it warn’t very likely that a fellow would ever sup burgoo again, when his head and his body had parted company. Well, we buried him in a wild kind of a spot, where there was a few grave-stones with names chiselled on ’em, and some were cut with a knife, showing a foul anchor or a rammer and sponge, and the trees grew all over the ground, and the rank grass and weeds run up the tombs; it was a wilderness sort of a place, and here it was that Corporal Jack was laid up in ordinary. The party to which I belonged was commanded by Mr. Quinton, a master’s mate, and our bounds lay within a short distance of this here burying-ground; and so, d’ye mind, the morning after they’d lowered the corporal down the hatchway of t’other world, I was posted at the point next the corporal’s berth, and a shipmate was with me by way of companion like,—not that I was afeard of any thing living or dead, but I had always a sort of nat’ral antipathy to being left alone on shore, particularly in the dark. There was also a nigger belonging to the plantation, who we allowed to join us just by way of being civil to him, as he was a kind of steward’s mate in the house, and used to splice the main brace for us occasionally. Well, messmates, we got knotting our yarns to keep us from getting drowsy; and to cheer our spirits, we overhauled a goodish deal about ghosts, and atomies, and hobblegoblins, and all such like justices of the peace, till the nigger—they called him Hannibal, arter the line-of-battle ship, I suppose;—I say, till the nigger declared that every hair on his head stood as stiff as a crow-bar.”

“Avast there!” exclaimed Bill Jennings, “tell that to the marines an you will; why the black fellow’s head was woolly and curled like a Flemish fake, and yet you say it was as stiff as a crow-bar.”

“And so it was,—the more the wonder, and be d—— to you;” growled the boatswain’s-mate. “Would you have his honour there think I keep a false reckoning? Well, as I was a saying, his head looked like a black porcupine with his quills up. All at once we heard a tremendous rattling amongst the dry leaves of a plantain-ground; but the trees were too thick to see what it was even if there had been light enough, which there warn’t, as the sun hadn’t brought his hammock up, but was only just turning out.

“‘Dere him debbil come agin,’ cried the nigger; and away he started, as if a nor-wester had kicked him end-ways.

“‘What the black rascal arter,’ said my messmate.

“‘Nay,’ says I, ‘that’s more nor I can tell; but not being a Christian and only a poor ignoramus of a nigger, I suppose he’s afeard that the noise yonder is Davy Jones playing at single stick, and mayhap he may think the ould gemman is hauling his wind upon this tack, and may take his black muzzle for one of his imps. But that’s a pretty bobbery they’re kicking up, at all events, and now it’s going in the direction of the burying-ground.’

“‘I tell you what it is, Jack,’ says my messmate, who looked very cautiously round him, as if he was rowing guard in an enemy’s port, ‘I tell you what it is; I never thinks they give the devil his due, for between you and me I don’t know as he’s half so bad as many people makes him out. Our parson say he’s black, but the niggers paints him white; but for my part, I’m thinking that the colour of a ship’s paint goes for nothing. Then as for his horns, why they’re ugly looking to be sure;—[here the noise was right away in the burying-ground, and my messmate laid me fairly along side,]—but though they are ugly looking, I never heard of his doing any mischief by running stem on with them. And arter all, shipmate,’ he continued, ‘you must own there’s a great deal in fancy. Look at your Ingee grab-vessels, that run their noses out to the heel of the jib-boom, and carry all their bowsprit in-board! Now I call that sort o’rig neither ship-shape nor Bristol fashion, for a ship’s head is a ship’s head, and a ship’s bowsprit is a ship’s bowsprit; but if they go for to make a standing bowsprit of a ship’s head, then, I’m thinking, they are but lubberly rigged.’

“Now, messmates, you must own that his arguments was a bit of a poser; but I warn’t altogether satisfied with his backing and filling like a grenadier in a squall; and so, says I, ‘But what do you think of his tail, eh?’

“‘Why as for the matter of his tail,’ says he, ‘I’m thinking it’s a fundamental mistake altogether. The parsons say—and mayhap they’re right—that he cruises about privateering, because he’s got a roving commission, and every now and then he falls in with a heavenly convoy, and nips off with a prize, which he carries to his own dark place. Now as some of the craft are, no doubt, dull sailers, why, I suppose, he carries a hawser over his quarter to drag ’em out of the body of the fleet, and I’m thinking that in some dismal hour he has been seen with the fag-end towing astarn, and the fear of the beholder has convarted it into a tail.’

“Well, messmates, I own I was a bit staggered at the likelihoods of the thing, because, d’ye mind, I never could make out the use of the tail; but the tow-rope spoke for itself, so says I, ‘I tell you what it is, shipmate, you’ve just hove my thoughts slap aback and got my ideas in irons—but holloa, there’s a precious row.’

“‘Precious row, indeed,’ says my companion; ‘why Jack—why I’m blessed—look there—if that arn’t the skeleton of Corporal Jack walking off with his own head under his arm; then I’m ——, but here comes Mr. Quinton and the nigger.’

“I did look, messmates, towards the burying-ground, and there I saw a sort of long-legged skeleton straddling over the graves like an albatross topping a ground swell; and, sure enough, the corporal’s head was under his long spider-like arms.

“‘Dere, Massa Quinckem,’ said the black fellow, ‘now he see ’em for he-self.’

“‘By Jove, and so it is, boy,’ cried the officer.

“‘Ay, ay sir,’ says my messmate, ‘it’s the corporal—there’s no mistaking his cutwater; but he must have fallen away mightily during the night, to be so scantily provided with flesh this morning; howsomever, mayhap the climate has melted him down.’

“‘He no melt ’em,’ cried the nigger, ‘he eat ’em for true.’

“‘What! eat his own head,’ says I, ‘he must be in dreadful want of a meal. Come, come, ould chap, that’s too heavy to be hoisted in.’

“Well, all this while the skeleton was walking off with his head in his arms, just as a nurse would carry a baby; but the officer raises his rifle to his shoulder, and it made me laugh to think he was going to shoot a skeleton without a head, and that was as dead as Adam’s grandmother.

“‘For God’s sake, sir,’ says my messmate, ‘don’t go for to fire, for it would be downright blasphemy to kill a dead body; and what makes the fellow turn out of his hammock after being lashed up for a full due, I can’t tell.’

“Bang went the rifle, and down dropped the corporal’s atomy; but up it got again almost directly and made sail for the bush, leaving his head behind to lighten ship. Off starts the black fellow after him, and away went the officer close to his heels. ‘My eyes, shipmate,’ says I, ‘there must be some sport in chasing a skeleton; so e’en let’s keep in their wakes and see it out.’ So off we set, and presently bang went the rifle again, and away flew the corporal’s splinters; so the skeleton gathers himself up, and then laid down on the ground, kicking and sprawling like a bull-whale in his flurry. Well, we ran up and there we found—now what do you think, messmates? Why, it was nothing more nor less than a large land-crab, that was walking away with the corporal’s head as easy as I’d carry a cocoa-nut.”

The old tar ceased, and I naturally expected that some part of his story would be contradicted; but no one seemed to raise a doubt as to the veracity of his statement, and of course politeness would not allow me to differ from the rest.

“Them land-crabs have a power of strength,” said old Darby. “I recollects one night being beached high and dry in the small cutter, and I boat-keeper; so I catches one of these beasts, and claps him under the bows of the boat, whilst I made fast the painter to his hind leg, and then away he stretched out for the water, dragging the cutter with him as if it had been no more than a mouldy biscuit, and if I hadn’t cut the painter pretty smartly, he’d have towed us out to sea in no time.”

“The legs of these crabs must be very long,” said I; “are their bodies in proportion?”

“Why no, your honour,” replied the boatswain’s-mate; “their bodies are but small, seeing that they are all ribs and trucks; but their claws are tremendous. What d’ye think of their reaching up to the top of a gibbet, and having unhooked a pirate that was hung in chains, walked off with him, hoops and all, so that he never was found again!”

“If it really happened,” I replied, “it is truly astonishing.”

“Really happened!” cried the veteran somewhat scornfully. “Ax them as was watching down at Cabrita-point that night, and see if they won’t swear to it.”

“Perhaps it was some of the friends of the pirate who removed the body,” I ventured to suggest.

“Now that comes of your honour’s not knowing nothing of the country,” he rejoined; “for, d’ye mind, all the rogue’s friends were thieves, and if it had been any of them, they’d not only have carried off the body, but would have stole the gibbet for fire-wood, which a land-crab has no manner of use for.”

This certainly was unanswerable, and I forbore asking any more questions on that subject.

“I remember, when I was a boy,” said ——, “I sailed out of Dover in a by-boat under Captain Hammond over to Calais, and Bullun, and Ostend; and there was an ould woman who they used to call Mother Mount, lived at the back of the York Hotel, and she constantly placed herself on the steps of her door observationing the people that passed up and down the street. Captain Hammond never went past the house but he jeered her for a witch, and every body said she was one; till one day, just as we were going across with a good freight of passengers, the ould Jezabel spoke some hard words to the skipper, as he was coming down to the craft to sail out of the harbour. He made no more to do but to spit at her. ‘The curse of the defenceless and childless widow be upon you!’ she cried out. ‘You are bound across the channel, but there are those will be there before you. You will think yourself secure, but woe, and danger, and wreck, shall come at a time when you think not of it, for my curse is upon you!’ The captain came on board in no very gentle humour, and away we went with a flowing sheet for Calais. Our passage was short, but we struck very heavily in crossing the bar, though the water was as smooth as a mill-pond, and every timber in the craft sneered again. The mate, fearing she would gripe-to and run upon the pier-head, was going to ease the throat-halliards; but the captain hollaed out, ‘Hold on till all’s blue; it’s only Mother Mount at her tricks.’ Well, at last we got safe in and hauled alongside the key in the outer-harbour, where we made fast stem and starn and cleared decks.”

“Upon my word, that’s a tough yarn,” said I; “and so you really think it was Mother Mount that bumped you ashore in that fashion.”

“It isn’t for men without larning or edecation such as me to say their say positively,” answered the pensioner, “but—[giving his quid a severe turn]—if I am to speak my mind, I think it was. Well, sir, the captain went ashore to dine with a French gentleman, and when he came aboard again he was rather too much by the head on account of the wine he had hoisted in, and somehow or other it had got stowed away in his fore-peak; so he yawed about like a Dutch schuyt on the Dogger-bank, and almost his last words at turning-in were ‘D— Mother Mount!’ Well, we all went to our hammocks, and the mate left word for one of the hands to turn out and ’tend her at tide-time, as it looked breezy away to the sou-west. The vessel floated about two o’clock in the morning, and soon afterwards we heard the most tremendous hallo-bulloo upon deck, and the captain swearing in a mixture of high Dutch, low Dutch, Jarman and French, with not a small sprinkling of English dammees. Up the ladder we ran, and there he was with a handspike in his hand thrashing about and stamping fore-and-aft, like a wild pig in a squall. We got him appeased at last, and then he pointed to the mooring ropes; and, sure enough, the head-fast was cast off and partly hauled in-board, and the starn-fast had only a single turn, just ready for letting go when she had winded; the foresail was partly up, and the jib hooked all ready for hauling out. We made all fast and snug again, but the skipper kept raving till daylight in his cabin about Mother Mount and her imps.”

“But what about the imps, my old boy,” exclaimed I; “you’ve said nothing yet about imps. Did they have tails too?”

“Indeed and by all accounts they had, sir,” replied the old man; “for though the skipper was a long time silent about it, yet it came out at last, and he solemnly attested it in his last moments on his death-bed to a clergyman. He declared that whilst he was sleeping something struck his temples so hard that it made the vessel shake again——.”

“Why, he was dreaming to be sure,” said I, “the thump was caused by the vessel just beginning to lift, and the swell rolling in made her strike against the piles. Pray, had the man who was ordered to ’tend her at tide-time got up upon the look-out when the master went on deck?”

“I carn’t say as he was, sir,” answered the veteran, “though I rather think not.”

“Well, go on, my old friend,” requested I, “let’s get to the imps.”

“After receiving one or two heavy blows,” continued the pensioner, “the skipper woke, and he thought he heard a shrill squeaking voice above say, ‘Bear a hand with that foresail and jib, and haul in the head-rope;’ and then there was a sort of a scrambling noise afore the windlass, and another chock aft by the starn lockers. So he slips on his pea-jacket and creeps up the companion, and there he saw five or six monstrous rats forward; two were hoisting the foresail, two were hooking on the jib, one was hauling in the head-rope, and another was shoving her bows off. Abaft was a rat bigger than all the rest, standing at the tiller and giving orders, and another had got hold of the quarter-rope and was singling the turns. You may well guess the ould chap was in a terrible taking at first; his teeth chattered like the palls of a windlass when they shorten in a slack cable; his knees knocked together——”

“Then he was knock-kneed,” said I, laughing heartily. “Really this is a clever tale: first, the old woman makes a threat, then she plays you a mount-a-bank trick, and lastly rat ifies her promise by——”

“I have not got to that yet, sir,” replied the old man, interrupting in his turn; “but you shall hear all about it, if you will only give me time.” He then continued, “Notwithstanding the tremblification the skipper was in at first, he wasn’t a man as was easily to be daunted in the long run; and seeing he was part owner of the craft as well as master, I’m thinking he was afraid they wouldn’t carry her out safely, and mayhap he thought they might turnout to be pirats——”

“That’s half a pun, old boy,” said I; “why your pirats would have made a splendid rat-pie, upon short allowance.”

“By all accounts one of ’em would have been meal for half a dozen messes,” replied the matter-of-fact old man. “But as I was a saying, sir, ould Hammond determined that at least he’d be master of his own cutter; for in those days the by-boats had running bowsprits, though they generally carried them over the stem to make most room; and also, that his own crew knew her trim and could work her best, he jumps up upon deck and catches hold of a——”

“A rat tan, or a piece of rat line stuff,” said I, interrupting him.

“No, sir,” answered the veteran rather testily; “he catches hold of a handspik, and began to hammer away like a fellow beating saltpetre bags in an Ingeeman’s hould at Diamond-harbour; and by the time we got upon deck, there wasn’t a rat to be seen nigh hand; though I must say I saw two or three dark objects in the distance running down towards the pier-head, and there was some thing like a man on his hands and knees slowly crawling after them. Howsomever, as I said before, the decks were cleared of the warmin, and we made all fast again.”

“And did you never hear any other explanation of the affair?” inquired I.

“Why,” replied the pensioner, “there was a report that some English and French smugglers broke out of prison that night, and they tried to make the skipper believe that he was deceived as to the rats; but the thing was impossible, for how could the smuggler get through the great gates and pass the sentries? Besides they wouldn’t have turned tail that fashion for one ould man.”

“But the alarm, old boy,” exclaimed I; “the skipper gave an alarm, and the rats were afraid of being trapped again.”

“Why, for the matter o’ that, sir,” assented the veteran, “he did kick up a bit of a bobbery, I own; and the do-oneers came running down from the watch-house, but nobody was taken.”

“That’s curious, too,” said I, “but had they no other means of escape?”

“Why, they did say,” replied the old tar, “that a fishing-boat was missing from somewhere about the mouth of the harbour; but the captain swore to the rats, and ever afterwards used to give the ould woman a trifle of money or so, and speak kindly to her. And d’ye see, sir, I’m thinking that Captain Hammond couldn’t be mistaken as to the rats, because why?—a rat hasn’t a head like a Christian; and then his tail,—no Christian has a tail like a spanker boom over his starn, and so I’ll stick to the rats, for I verily believe they were nothing else.”

“No doubt,” said I, addressing the boatswain’s-mate, “you have seen a great deal of hard service. Have you been in many battles?”

“Why yes, your honour,” he replied, “I’ve had my share of it; but notwithstanding the many chafes I got, if another war was to break out, and I was fifty years younger, provided I could get a good captain and a sweet ship, worthy messmates and a full allowance of grog, I’d sooner sarve in a man-of-war than in any other craft whatsomever. But mark my words, we shan’t never have another such a navy as the last. Arn’t they arming the ships on purpose for them to make use of their legs, and run away? What would ould Benbow or Duncan have said to this, with their round starns and chase batteries? Arn’t the fleet got the dry-rot with fundungus, and don’t the new regulations bid fair to give the men the dry-rot too? Who the deuce could weather a storm or engage an enemy upon a pint of grog a-day? But as long as there’s a shot in the locker, it shall go hard but we’ll queer the purser somehow or other, after all.

“I remember Jack Traverse once, and a worthy soul Jack was too, going off at Spithead to join the old Gorgon. Well, d’ye see, as the wherry came from the starboard side to pull up to the larboard gangway, Jack, who had been bowsing his jib up, caught sight of the name painted in gold upon the starn, and so he endeavoured to see what he could make of it; but being cro-jack eyed, and his brains all becalmed, he began, like a dull skull-hard, to spell it backward. ‘N-o, no,’ says Jack, ‘that’s as plain as Beachy Head in a fog; so this arn’t the ship, d’ye mind! Howsomever, let us see what her name is. N-o, no; that’s right; g-r-o-g, grog. Yes, I’m blessed if it arn’t, and both together makes NO GROG! About ship, waterman, she won’t do for me; why, I should be waterlogged in a week, so bear up for the next ship, d’ye hear.’

“The navy, your honour, is the pillars of the state; but if the props are unsound, the whole heady-phiz must tumble to the dust; and oh, to see the flag under which I’ve fought and bled—that flag, whose influence caused such signal exertions in the fleet ‘when Nelson gained the day,’—humbled before the white rag of a Frenchman, or pecked at by the double-headed eagle!—nay, what is worse, degraded in the sight of the stripes and stars! My fervent prayer is, that before the day arrives, these old bones may be hove-down for a full due, and buried in the hollow wave. ’Twould break my heart.

“Howsomever, all this comes of trying to make Jack a gentle-man, a title he once despised; but what with the quibble hums of lawyers, and the comflobgistications of parsons, his head gets filled with proclamations, and his brains whirl round like the dog-vane in a calm. I beg your honour’s pardon, though, for troubling you with so many of my remarks upon the subject; but it must be evident to every body that tars have arrived at a bad pitch, and though I’m no croaker, (I don’t mean him as was at the Admiralty,) yet my spirit is stirred up and must have vent. I sees they have tried to put a stop to smuggling, by taking off the duties. That is as it should be; but there’s another thing I wish, and that is, to get a petition to parley-ment for all the old hard-a-weathers at Greenwich to have their ’bacca duty free. Why, sir, it would be an act of piety; and the worthy old quidnuncs when they take their chaw, or blow a cloud, would bless ’em for it.

“Talking about smuggling, reminds me of a circumstance that happened off Dungeness, when I was in that gallant ship, the Triumph, seventy-four. We were running up channel for the Downs with Dungeness light on our larboard beam, and it was about six bells in the middle watch, when the look-out on the fokstle reported, that there was a lugger close under our bows. ‘Give him a gun,’ cried the officer of the watch. The shot was fired and the lugger instantly let fly her fore-sheet, and rounded to. ‘From whence came you?’ hailed the lieutenant. ‘Wha waw,’ replied the lugger. ‘What the devil place is that?’ said the officer; and again raising the speaking trumpet,—‘where are you bound to?’—‘Wha waw,’ was once more returned. ‘The fellow’s making game of us, sir,’ said the officer to the captain, who, hearing the report of the gun, had come out of his cabin. ‘Shall I board him, sir?’—‘Yes, Mr. ——, lower the quarter-boat down, and see what he is.’

“Well, away we went, and as we pulled towards him, the lieutenant would have it the lugger was a French privateer; but the coxswain, an old hand at the trade, replied, ‘No, sir, she’s no privateer, and I thinks I can smell a secret at this distance. There’s no guns, sir, and but few hands. Eh, eh, we shall see presently.’—‘What are you laden with?’ inquired the officer as soon as we got alongside, and he had jumped upon the deck. ‘What is your cargo?’—‘Bacon and eggs,’ replied a veteran, whose gray locks peeped from underneath a slouched hat, and partly concealed a weather-beaten countenance, where the breakers and time had made deep furrows; ‘bacon and eggs, sir.’—‘It’s of no use axing that man, sir,’ said the coxswain. ‘I can tell him in a minute; he’s brought his hogs to a fine market, and as for eggs,—why, he’s chock full of tubs, your honour, (lifting up the grating.) Ay, there they are, indeed, like eggs in a gull’s nest. There they are, sir; it makes a fellow’s mouth water to look at them. Mayn’t we have a toothful your honour? It’s hard to starve in a land of plenty! I’d only knock one small hole in this head here,’ giving it a thump with the tiller that was nearly accomplishing the purpose.

“‘Avast, avast, sir!’ cried the lieutenant: ‘this is smuggled, and now we must seize it for his majesty.’—‘For his Majesty! all that for his Majesty!’ cries the coxswain. ‘Why, God bless your honour, he’ll never be able to get through the half of it, even though the Prince of Wales should lend him a hand, and I hear he’s no flincher from the gravy. I’m sure, sir, none of the royal family would miss the want of as much as would comfort the heart of a tar in such a raw morning as this, especially as we would drink their healths in a bumper, and that would do ’em more good than swallowing all this here stuff!’—‘Not another word,’ said the officer. ‘Jump into your boat, and (turning to the old man) do you follow him, for I must take you with me!’ The poor fellow was obliged to comply, though he made a good many wry faces, and begged hard; but all to no purpose. So the cutter shoved off, sadly deploring that all hands were so nigh hollands, and yet without being able to moisten their clay with a sup before breakfast.

“‘What is she?’ inquired captain E—, as the lieutenant came up the side. ‘A smuggler, sir,’ was the answer. ‘A smuggler, eh!’ cried the captain, ‘and so (addressing the old man) you are one of those lawless characters who run all hazards to run your goods and beach your tubs, bidding defiance to danger and death? What have you to say for yourself?’—‘Sir,’ replied the hoary seaman uncovering his head, and displaying a face where cool determination was struggling with painful sensations, ‘sir, whatever I can say will, perhaps, avail me nothing. The necessities of a large family and numerous distresses have driven me to my present state. All I possess in the world is now in your power, and you are able in one moment, not only to deprive me of liberty, but also to reduce me and mine to utter misery and beggary. For myself, I care but little; but for my fatherless grandchildren,’—he wrung a tear from his eye, and dashed it off in agony; but his countenance almost instantly resumed the stern serenity which appeared to mark his character. Captain E. and the lieutenant took a turn or two aft in deep conversation. At last, eight bells came and the morning watch was turned out. ‘Send all hands on deck,’ said the captain to the boatswain’s-mate, ‘and bear a hand about it.’

“Well, we all mustered aft on the quarter-deck; and the captain, standing on the gratings of the after-hatchway, exclaimed—‘My lads, this old rascal’s a smuggler, and there’s his vessel, your prize. He says our detaining him will be the ruin of himself and family; and how much shall we obtain for plunging a fellow-creature and a countryman into hopeless misery? Why, our gin will be transmogrified into port for the agents and lawyers, and perhaps you would share about nine-pence a-man. Mine and the officers would amount to about twenty pounds, which we are ready to forego,—nay more, I am ready to give you that sum out of my own pocket. So what d’ye say, lads? shall we make him splice the main-brace, and let the old rogue go?’ A simultaneous ‘Ay, ay, sir,’ resounded from all hands. ‘Well, then, my men, we’ll have six tubs out of him for that purpose; so jump into the boat again, and you old Blow-hard must swear through thick and thin that you have never set eyes upon us!’ The old man turned round, fell upon his knees, and, laying his hand upon his heart, poured forth a volley of thanks; but just as he was going over the side,—‘Avast,’ cried the captain, ‘you must swear upon the binnacle never to divulge what has taken place.’ This was done, and the smuggler returned to the boat with a lighter heart than when he entered it at first.

“Away we pulled alongside the lugger; but, when their master told them they were clear, my eyes! the men were like wild fellows, and would have swamped us with tubs. ‘Only six, Mr. E,’ cried the captain from the gangway: ‘if you bring more, I shall send you back with them.’ But we had plenty to drink, and then stood for our ship again.

“Well, d’ye see, the six tubs were placed under the poop-awning; and as soon as the captain had turned in, the lieutenant sent two of them to the captain’s cabin, one to the ward-room, one to the midshipmen’s berth, and another to the warrant-officers’ mess, leaving only a solitary tub for the whole of the ship’s company.

“Well, d’ye see, at day-light out came the captain again and looked for the stuff ‘Why, Mr. ——, where—where—what have you done with the grog?’ The officer told him how it had been disposed of. ‘No, no,’ says the skipper: ‘fair play’s a jewel, sir: have it all on deck directly, and let every man fore-and-aft share alike. I shall only take my allowance with the rest, that all hands may be tarred by the same brush.’ So the stuff was started into the wash-deck-tub, and equally divided among officers and crew.”

Here the boatswain’s-mate ceased, and took a determined pull from his pewter, whilst the various groupes assembled (for our numbers had increased,) were all unanimous in voting Captain E—— to be “a generous soul, what ’ud always see a poor fellow righted in the long run,” and each had some anecdote to relate respecting him; but as all were talking at the same moment, it was impossible to collect them.

“I was with him,” exclaimed an old pensioner, “off Scamperdown, when Duncan fought the Dutch fleet, and we engaged and took the Worser-never; and after she struck, we stood on and attacked the Fry-hard, that carried ould Winter’s flag,—blue at the main. It was just arter the mutiny too, and some of our hands went from the bilboes to their guns. But Captain E—— knew the stuff a blue jacket was made on, and was glad of the opportunity of rubbing off old scores with the gunner’s sponge.”

“Talking about smuggling,” said Bill Jennings, “puts me in mind of the way we used to get dollars off at Boney’s Airs,[3] when I was in the Mutine sloop of war along with Captain Fabian, and we had three fine Deal-built boats that ’ud walk along like race-horses. Well, all the boats’ crews had belts round their waists with pockets to ’em, each just big enough to hold a roll of fifty dollars; so that every man could carry three hundred,—and a tolerably good cargo, too, considering he had to walk as steady as a pump-bolt on shore for fear of the custom-house officers, and to stretch out pretty smartly at his oar when he got into the boat—supposing the wind warn’t fair. Well, one day says the marchant to our coxswain, as we was standing in his store,—says he, ‘My lad, do you see this here cask?’ which was rather a foolish question to be sure, seeing it was a half-hogshead, such as the small craft had their rum in, and he might have been sartin that Tom Crampton had twigged it. Howsomever, the marchant says to him, ‘My lad,’ says he, ‘do you see this here cask?’ Now it puzzled Tom to think what tack he was standing on, for the licker-bottles were all filled chock-a-block on the side-board, and ‘Mayhap,’ says Tom to himself whilst he scratched his head, ‘mayhap, his honour’s not never a going to gie me it all?’ Howsomever, says the marchant, says he, ‘My lad, do you see this here cask?’ Tom looked at the half-hogshead and then at the marchant, and then at the rum-bottle, as much as to say he was working a traverse to find the latitude and the longitude of the thing; and then he scratched his head, and took a severe turn with his quid, and ‘My lad, do you see this here cask?’ axed the marchant. ‘I do, your honour,’ says Tom; ‘and I’ll take my oath on it, if your honour wishes.’—‘No, no,’ says the marchant, ‘your word’s enough. So bring up your boat’s crew, and get ’em aboard as quick as you can.’

“Now Tom thought that the men were to come up for the stuff and then to go on board the sloop, so as to get there before dark as she lay in the outer roads, about seven miles from the town; so says Tom, says he, ‘God bless your honour! I’ll have ’em up in the wink of a blind eye, and I’m sure they’ll thank your honour for your goodness. Is it rum or brandy?’—‘What do you mean?’ axed the marchant. ‘The cask, your honour,’ says Tom, ‘is it Gemaker, or Coney-hack?’—‘Neither the one nor the other,’ says the marchant; ‘them there are all dollars.’—‘Whew!’ whistles Tom; ‘now I understands your honour, but couldn’t we contrive to get ’em down in the cask just as they are; so that instead of making four or five trips, we may carry off the whole in the turning of a log-glass?’—‘I fear that ’ud be too great a risk,’ says the marchant; ‘or else I wish it could be done.’ ‘Why for the matter o’ the risk,’ says Tom, ‘there’s only one ould chap as I cares about; but he’s always boxing the compass of every thing that he catches sight on, living or dead. But I think I could get to windward of him, arter all’s said and done, and there’s no risk with the men, you know.’ So Tom was allowed to make trial of his skill; and away he goes and gets a purser’s bread-bag, and then walks off to the market and buys a couple o’ sheep’s heads, which he stows away in the bag along with a little hundred of cabbages and inyuns, till it was chock-full. Well, the cask of dollars was got into a cart, which drove off,—Tom keeping a good cable’s length a-head with his bread-bag over his shoulder and a piece of wood shaped like a sugar-loaf done up in a blue paper under his arm; for I should tell you, messmates, that was the way they used to smuggle off the solid silver, and the old coast-guard had made a prize of a couple of these sugar-loaves only a day or two afore. Well, on goes Tom, bending beneath his bag like a crank craft under whole topsails, and now and then taking a heavy lurch to draw attention.

“The jetty runs a good two hundred yards into the river, and right in the teeth of the upper part on it stands the guard-house, where ould Jack Spaniard kept as sharp a look out as a Jew crimp upon pay-day, and presently he sees Tom rolling along and looking as wise as the cook’s-mate in a sudden squall. So he mounts a cockt-hat as big as a Guinea-man’s caboose with a feather in it as ’ud have sarved the whole Chatham division of jollies, and curling his mouthstarshers he marches up to Tom and bids him back his main-yard; but Tom took no notice for the moment, till the ould Signor cries out, ‘Blood and ounds,’ in Spanish, and then he pretends to cotch sight of him for the first time. Away starts Tom as if he was afraid of being boarded, and the Spaniard whips out his rapper, as they calls a sword in that country, and runs him right through the heart—”

“God bless me!” exclaimed I, interrupting old Jennings; “what! did the poor fellow get murdered for his frolic?”

“Murdered, your honour!” reiterated Bill Jennings; “Tom murdered! No, no, the shove gave him better headway—”

“Why did not you declare, but this minute,” said I, “that the Spaniard run him through the heart?”

“Through Tom’s heart! Lord love you, no,” he replied; “it warn’t Tom’s heart, but through the heart of a cabbage, I was going to say, only your honour interrupted me,—a cabbage that was in the bag. Well, there was a pretty chase all along shore, till the Spaniard fires a pistol that hit him right in the head—”

“Well, then, he’s dead enough now, I suppose,” exclaimed I, “if shooting through the head will kill a man.”

“It warn’t Tom’s head,” he replied, laughing, “it was the sheep’s head; for Tom kept the ould chap dodging about till he saw the cask of dollars was in the boat, and she with her three lugs rap full standing off shore with a spanking breeze, and then he pretends to trip up over a piece of rock and lays him all along, hove down on his beam ends. Up comes the Signor hand over hand; because why? Poor Tom had made every nail an anchor, and clung to the earth as if it had been his own nat’ral mother. So, up comes the Signor and grabs hold of the bag, which Tom held on, like grim death against the doctor; but after some tuzzling, Tom lets go the bag and runs for it, leaving Jack Spaniard with his prize. Well, Tom gets down to the captain’s gig and shoves off to the Muskitoe schooner, what was lying in-shore, and the Signor hoists the bag on his shoulders, fully sartin from the weight that he’d made a rich seizure, and back he marches to the guard-house, where every soul had turned out to enjoy a sight of the chase, (so that the cart with the cask passed by without being examined,) and now remained grouped together to see what the Signor had got. There was Spanish sodgers in their cockt-hats, custom-house officers in their long punchos, and coast-o’guinea niggers, men and women, cracking their jokes at the expense of poor Tom, and highly delighted that his cargo was captured, nothing doubting but that it was dollars, or mayhap ounce-bits—that’s doubleloons, messmates,—and all were eager to see it opened, little suspecting it was a mere bag o’ moonshine. Well, the Signor comes right slap into the middle of ’em, puffing and blowing like a sparmacity, and throws down his treasure; one of the black fellows out’s knife and cuts the seizing at the mouth of the bread-bag, and away rolls sheep’s heads and cabbages with a good sprinkling of garlic; and, my eyes, the sodgers began to roar with laughing; the custom-house officers turned-to and swore at every Saint in the calendar, the niggers went dancing mad with delight at the fun, whilst the ould Signor twirled his mouthstarshers and cursed every thing an inch high. But the dollars were safe, and Tom got a handsome present for his trouble; whilst Jack Spaniard was in a precious stew of sheep’s heads and impartinances to think he’d been done so completely.”

“I dearly loves them there sort o’things,” said a weather-beaten old blade; “there’s a some-ut sentimental about ’em that excites simperthy, and brings to the memory many an ould scene of former times.”

“You’re right, boy Ben,” rejoined my first conductor, who had told me of the Mutiny of the Hermione, “and so they do. Some people calls ’em rum-on-tick, but I can’t for the life of me tell why, as they seldom gives us credit for much spirits; but if his honour there has no objection, I’ll just give him a yarn that’s twirling in my brain, and mayhap it may please him.”

I readily assented to the proposal, and he accordingly began,—“I remember once, when under the command of the gallant Sir Sidney Smith, up the Mediterranean, we were scouring the coast, and brushing away the French troops; the captain ordered a party in the barge and launch to rig for going ashore, as he intended to pay a visit to a nobleman, who resided about two miles inland, on an elegant estate. Now, the old master was an immense stout man, as big as a grampus; he always gave the vessel a heel to the side he was walking: and as he hadn’t been on dry ground for many months, he was invited to join the captain and some of the other officers in their cruize. But, Lord love you! he thought the ship wouldn’t be safe without him; and, as for fighting like the sodgers, with their marching and their countermarching, why, he didn’t understand their heavylutions, and wasn’t going to be made a light-infantry of. However, they persuaded the old gemman at last; all hands got into the boats, and we shoved off. It was a lovely morning, and as we pulled along-shore, the scenery was beautiful; but more so when we landed and took our course to the nobleman’s house. A wild and romantic spot it was; rocks piled on rocks, yet crowned with verdure—the dark forest and the green fields; while the calm ocean reflected with dazzling brightness the golden beams of the sun.

“Well, d’ye see, the nobleman was glad to see us all, for the French had retreated three weeks before, and he said there wasn’t a trooper within a hundred miles. The wine was set abroach, and all hands began to make merry, particularly Sir Sidney and the officers.

“‘Well, master,’ said the captain, ‘how have you enjoyed your walk?’

“‘Very much, indeed, sir; but,’—looking to seaward,—‘I’m afraid they’re getting the ship too close in. How sweetly she sits, like a duck upon the water! Gad, I’m sorry I left her.’ And then he bellowed, ‘Why don’t you wear round upon t’other tack? But they can’t hear me, so I may just as well whistle jigs to a mermaid.’

“‘Never mind,’ returned the skipper, ‘they’ll keep her afloat; so drink your wine, and make yourself happy.’

“Happy, eh? what out of his ship? That was impossible; so the old man kept growling, like a distant thunder storm. The castle we were in was situated upon a rising ground, that commanded an extensive view of the country; but we were on that side which was next the sea, and after a good blow out,—that is, when we had re-galed ourselves, and the captain had gained what information he wanted, just as we were coming away, in rushed a tall meagre-looking figure, with a face as long as a purser’s account, and as pale as a corpse, while his teeth chattered like a watchman’s rattle.

“‘What’s the matter,—what’s the matter?’ inquired Sir Sidney; but the man was breathless with running, and couldn’t answer. He wrung his hands, and pointed inland. The officers made the best of their way aloft to the top of the castle, and there, with their glasses, discovered a troop of French cavalry, about 200, carrying on under a heavy press.

“My eyes! there was a job. To defend the ship,—the castle, I mean,—was out of the question; for there warn’t above twenty of us up from the boats; besides, it would have been the ruin of the nobleman, in case of defeat. So orders were given to make the best of our way down, and every man to look out for himself. But what was to become of the master? He could hardly walk; and for running, that was impossible, for his legs were so short, he could make no hand at it. The officers proposed to conceal him; but he swore he wouldn’t be stowed away like a bale of damaged slops returned unserviceable, and perhaps be cotch’d and get fricasseed and carbonadoed, like a young frog. ‘No,’ said he; ‘crack on, my boys; and the devil take the starnmost.’

“Off we set, but poor old Soundings couldn’t hold it out; he puffed, and blowed, and waddled along, till he tripped over a mound of earth; and there he lay, like an island of flesh amidst an ocean of grass. Sir Sidney hove to, and laughed till his sides shook. However, he ordered a couple of hands to raise the old gemman on their shoulders, and run with all their might.

“By this time, the troops had advanced within musket shot, and they sent us a few peppercorns to freshen our way. The firing made the men in the boats alert, (for they were out of sight, the landing-place being just over the brow of a hill,) and so they prepared for our reception. The sodgers were coming up with us hand over hand, and their shots flew pretty thick. The old master, as soon as he recovered breath, did nothing but growl at being obliged to run away from the enemy, and kept his pistols ready to salute them in case of their coming alongside. There was now only a corn-field between us and the descent to the boats, when the men, finding themselves considerably in the rear, made a desperate push with their cargo and capsized altogether. Up they sprung again: it was, however, too late to mount the master afresh; besides, he had got a little rest in the carriage, so all hands took to their heels: but just as they arrived in the middle of the corn, the French poured in a smart volley, and the old gemman fell. The rest of the party had reached the boats, and put off upon their oars, all ready to give the troopers a warm reception. The two guns in the launch and one in the barge were loaded with musket-balls, and every man had his musket or pistols ready cocked for the attack. The cavalry appeared on the brow of the hill, as fine a mark as you’d wish to shoot at. Whiz—whiz—we let fly; and they seemed to be struck comical. They thought to capture us at once without difficulty; but, at the second fire, our arms had done so much execution, that they turned tail and scampered off as hard as they could drive.

“The frigate had witnessed the transaction; and when they could bring the guns to bear without injuring our own people, a broadside of round and grape completed their confusion. As soon as the action was over, we found two or three of our men slightly wounded, while many of the enemy lay dead upon the hill; others we could perceive moving about, and some, who had been dismounted, were endeavouring to escape. In about half an hour’s time we again pulled in, but not so cheerful as we did at first. The master had always been a great favourite with the captain, and, indeed, for the matter of that, every soul fore-and-aft looked upon him as a friend. He had come in at the hawse-holes, knew the duty of a tar, and was lenient to a seaman’s failings. No man could ever complain that Mr. Soundings had laid a finger upon him, or been the means of bringing him to the gangway, and, above all, stopping his grog. He was strict with the purser’s-steward, and kept the cook to his tethers. But now to be cut off, as it were, without being able to give the enemy battle, and to be hove down upon his beam-ends by the lubberly French sodgers,—it made all hands melancholy to think of it. If he had died upon the quarter-deck in the heat of an engagement, it would have been another guess-thing, because that would have been in the way of his profession, and he would have dropped his peak and wore round for t’other world with the same calmness and composure that he conned his ship into action, under a firm conviction of going aloft, because he had done his duty. But, to be popped at in a corn-field, like a cock-lark or a partridge,—oh, ’twas a most unnatural death!

“‘Whereabouts did you leave the master?’ said the captain to the man who was with him last.

“‘In the corn-field, sir,’ replied the man; ‘we carried him as long as we could stand under canvass; but both of us were so heavily laden, that I expected to founder every minute, and having too much top-hamper, we did upset at last. But Mr. Soundings got up directly and run with us ever so far, till the crapeaus gave us another broadside, and down he dropped in an instant. I heard him give one loud holloa, and then all was silent; so concluding death had grappled with him, I made all sail for the boats.’

“‘Did you see him,’ inquired the captain, ‘after he fell?’

“‘No, sir; he was buried among the corn, for there was a deep hollow ridge run along the place, and I suppose he rolled into it.’

“‘Poor fellow,’ rejoined Sir Sidney, his eye moistening as he spoke; ‘poor fellow, he’s gone, no doubt. However he shall have a seaman’s grave; so follow me ashore, Mr. E. (addressing the lieutenant) and take half the men with you. The rest, under Mr. L. must stay by the boats, and be prepared in case the troops should charge again.’

“The party drew up upon the beach, all eager to search for the body, and gratified to think that it would not be left as a prey for the gulls, but be hove overboard, sewed up in a hammock and all ship-shape. Sir Sidney Smith walked a-head in advance of the men, full of grief for the loss of his old shipmate; when all at once we heard a voice roaring most piteously, and the next moment a loud shout. We pushed forward, and in another minute a trio of Frenchmen showed themselves at the brow of the hill. Several muskets were presented at them; the sodgers dropped on their knees, when another figure, close behind them, was brought into view, holding a pistol in each hand. And who do you think it was? Why old Soundings himself, with a face full of choler like a heated furnace, his corporation heaving and setting like a mountain billow, and puffing and blowing like a grampus in a storm. Sir Sidney sprung forward and caught the master’s hand, while the rest gathered round and gave three hearty cheers for joy.

“‘Ay, ay,’ said the old gemman, laughing, ‘you’re a pack of cowards, to leave a ship in distress. Safety lays in the length of the legs now-a-days. Run, eh! fine clean-going craft like you, run! and suffer a crazy, weather-beaten, old hulk to battle the watch with a whole fleet! But there, d’ye mind, I have taken three prisoners, and now lend me a hand down to the boat.’

“The fact was, the old boy had tumbled into a hollow, the troops had passed over him, and sometime after their retreat, finding all quiet, he crawled out; when meeting suddenly with three Frenchmen dismounted, he presented his pistols and compelled them to go a-head just as we hove in sight.

“With light hearts the boats were once more shoved off from the beach; and, notwithstanding the old gemman boasted highly of his prowess, he swore it should be a long day before he’d trust his precious limbs out of the ship again, to go bush-fighting like a land privateer.”

“Arter all,” exclaimed the old boatswain’s-mate, “them there were spirit-stirring times; but the Neapolitans and Italians were scarcely worth fighting for. I was aboard the ould Culloden, 74, along with Troubridge up the Mediterranean; and one day a boat comes along-side and up mounts a Neapolitan officer, his rigging dressed out in gold lace and stars, so that he looked like a man-cake of gilt gingerbread. So he goes aft into the cabin, and tells the captain the Neapolitan troops were going to attack the French in a small fortified town on the coast, and Captain Troubridge being commodore, he had made bould to ax him for one of the sloop-of-war brigs to cannonade ’em by sea whilst the sodgers stormed ’em by land; and he talked so big of the bravery of his men, that it was enough to make a fellow believe that they cared no more for a bagonet than they did for a sail-needle, and no more for a two-and-thirty pound shot than they did for a ball of spun-yarn, and it puzzled me to think how the captain could hoist it all in; for he bowed very politely, and told the officer ‘he made no doubt that they would eat all they killed;’ and the officer bowed again almost to the deck, and he kept bending and bending like a ship heeling over to sudden gusts from the land. Howsomever, the skipper grants him the eighteen-gun brig, and then they began to overhaul a goodish deal about the plan of attack; and the Neapolitan observed, that if the captain would let ’em have a frigate instead of the brig, it would be much better and must ensure success. So the captain, very good-humouredly, countermands the order for the brig, and makes the signal for the captain of one of the frigates; and then they conversed together again, and the Count—they called him a Count, but Lord love you! he wouldn’t count for nothing among British sodgers:—I say, the Count danced about the cabin as if he was charging the French garrison, and cutting ’em up into four-pound pieces. Well, ashore he goes, and the frigate’s signal was made to unmoor and prepare for sea; when aboard comes the Count again to say the commander-in-chief requested a line-of-battle ship might be sent instead of the frigate, as it would place the victory beyond a doubt, and after some backing and filling about the matter, Troubridge consented, and the brig was ordered to get under way and direct one of the seventy-fours outside to proceed to the place appointed. So away goes the Count, though it was plain to see the skipper warn’t over and above pleased with the shuffling; but still he hoped the French would be beat, and ill as he could spare the seventy-four, the sloop was soon walking away under her canvass and had got to some distance; when alongside comes the Count again and goes into the cabin; but he hadn’t been long there before out he comes again holus-bolus through the door-way, and the skipper in his wake with a face like scarlet, kicking the Count under his counter and starting him endways like seven bells half-struck. The Count scratched his indecencies and run along the quarter-deck, with old Troubridge belabouring him, and hollaing out, ‘D— his eyes, first a brig, then a frigate, and next a line-of-battle ship; and now he won’t fight arter all!’ So the Count jumped into his boat, the brig was recalled, and the French kept possession till the army retreated, and then they capitulated.”

“Ay, that was a sweet ship,” said an aged pensioner, “that ould Culloden. Did you know Bill Buntline, as was captain of her fore-top?”

“Why, to be sure I do,” replied the other; “we were messmates for three years, and a worthy soul Bill was, too. He could spin a yarn that would last the whole look-out; and then, like some of your magazines, he continued it in the next. He was brave, too; but I fear we shall never muster many such as he again.”

“’Cause why?” said my old chaperon, “they don’t steer the right course to gain the point: who’d live burning under the line with only half allowance of grog? or in regard of the matter o’ that, what heart could go boldly into action that was swamped in tea-water? The parsons may say what they please, but they arn’t more fond of the kettle nor other folks, unless they takes it warm with a couple o’ lumps o’ sugar. But most of our tars are now in foreign sarvices, and teaching their art to our enemies.”

“Ay, it is so, ould shipmate,” rejoined the pensioner; “I reads of ’em sometimes when they used to be with Cochrane in South America, and I glories in the whacking the Portuguese fleet have just napped from Napier. It makes my ould heart bound with joy when I thinks of it.”

“But, mayhap,” said the boatswain’s-mate, “there’ll be some whistling to get ’em back again, in case of another war; but I hardly think a British tar would battle the watch against his country.”

“Tell that to the marines!” exclaimed the old man. “Why! warn’t the Yankee frigates principally manned with British tars,—many of ’em who had fought under Nelson, and hailed with three cheers his last memorable signal? Did not the United States have two of her guns, one named Nelson and the other Victory, worked solely by men who had fought at Trafalgar, and in most of the general actions? Nay, more: all of them had been bargemen to the undaunted hero, had shared his dangers, and revenged his death! Oh, what could have wrought such ruinous principles in their hearts, as to make them not only desert from, but strive to crush the proud flag for which they had shed their richest blood! And yet we are to be told, that this is not a fit subject for inquiry among the gemmen at the head of affairs; and that, in the event of another war, seaman are again to be dragged into the service, and compelled to toil under the dread of the cat. As for me, I always served my king and my country, (God bless ’em!) and mean to stick to my stuff as long as my timbers will hold together. But, nevertheless, I am a seaman, have a seaman’s feelings, and cannot bear to see a seaman injured: they are my messmates, my brothers; and I long to see them once more under the ‘union,’ gallantly asserting their country’s rights, and maintaining her naval glory.

“But to return to Bill; poor fellow, the last time I saw him he was on board an East Ingeeman, outward bound. The frost of years was on his head, and age had ploughed deep furrows on his brow; but his heart was as light as ever. I can remember him, the finest-looking fellow in the fleet, full of life and spirit; and, one day, when we were all, (that is the boarders,) exercising our cutlasses on the quarter-deck,—by the by, Mr. Kendall, who went out with Captain Franklin, was midshipman of our division, and a worthy little officer he was; his father was a captain in the navy, and both his grandfathers died admirals: I knew ’em well, and brave officers they were. Well, as I was a saying, there we stood, cutting and slashing right and left, while the officers watched our motions, and practised among themselves. ‘That’s a bonnie lad there,’ said the captain’s lady, leaning on the arm of the marine officer, and pointing to Bill; ‘a bonnie lad, in gude truth, Mr. M.’—‘Yes, ma’am,’ replied the officer, ‘a fine muddle for a Polly.’ But, Lord love you! as for being muddled, why he was as sober as a judge, and warn’t no more like a Polly than this pewter pot’s like a wooden platter.

“Well, d’ye see, there the boarders continued exercising; for we had a west-country sergeant who had received instruction in the horse-guards, but he turned foot-sodger and came to sea, and so he was appointed to teach the men upon a new system. A tyrannical upstart fellow he was, too; and nobody liked him. ‘Mind,’ says he, ‘when I say sooards, thee mustn’t draa, but only handle thee’s sooard for ready; but when I say draa sooards, thee must lug them out t’ scabbard:’ and so he kept on posing us, till we all wished him at ould Nick. At last we came to the cuts and guards: the first was all very well; but we could make nothing of the guards; for if a sailor, in boarding, stands like a doctor to pick and choose what limb to dissect, it would soon be all dickey with him. Straight forward work’s the best, and soonest over. ‘Now,’ says he, ‘if the enemy should cut at thee leg, thee must draa it back, and then thee wult be able to strike him down by the head, thus,’—showing the position. Howsomever, we could not scrape as he did; and so he got into a terrible passion. ‘Thee be a pack of fools,’ said he. ‘Now mind, as soon as I draa my leg back, I strike thus; and the enemy will fall!’ So saying, with the roll of the ship, he made a step back, when unfortunately—the scuttle was open behind him—down he went and disappeared in an instant. ‘And the enemy will fall!’ cried Bill, imitating him; while all hands, officers, ladies and all, burst into a roar of laughter. ‘Yo hoy, sergeant,’ bellowed Bill, down the scuttle, ‘where are you, my hearty? An’t you coming up again? Here we are all waiting to put the enemy to flight.’—But Mr. sergeant had had enough of it for that day, and slunk quietly to his berth.

“I remembers another time, in a six-and-thirty, when we engaged a Spanish frigate, and a heavy one she was too; they had men in their tops with rifles, who seemed only intent to pick out our officers. Well, d’ye see, the two ships swung alongside, and the main yards locked, with the Spaniard’s just abaft ours. Bill happened to be in the main-top with two others stoppering the shrouds, and every now and then he caught a glimpse of these fellows, laying down to load and firing over the top-brim.

“‘My eyes! shipmates, look there,’ says he; ‘the cowardly lubbers are bush-fighting. D—n the rigging; let’s go and clap a stopper over-all upon them:—but, avast, avast; do you two get upon their topsail-yard; and when you see me in the top, then come down hand over hand amongst us.’

“Away went Bill with his brace of pistols in his belt, and cartridge-box and cutlash by his side, along the main-yard, entirely concealed by the folds of the enemy’s main-sail, and got unobserved (except by those on deck) close in by the slings. The first man that rose,—pop he had him, to the great astonishment of the rest, who could not conceive where the shot came from; while those on deck were afraid of firing up, lest they should injure their own people, and the roar of the guns wouldn’t allow of a hail being heard. Bill squatted down as unconcerned as possible, re-loaded his pistol, and presently down went another. By this time the other two had gained the enemy’s mast-head; and finding they could douse a few of ’em without injuring Bill, they let fly, to the great terror of the Spaniards, who thinking themselves bewitched, bundled out of the top down the foot-hook shrouds, where they caught sight of Bill, when a desperate conflict ensued. He was, however, joined by his two shipmates; while others, from both ships, crowded up the riggings to the assistance of their several comrades. For a few minutes the fight seemed to be transferred aloft, when a shot from one of our main-deck guns brought down the enemy’s main-mast; and away the combatants came flying down upon deck, where, though severely shaken and bruised in the fall, all that were able still continued the fight. The confusion occasioned by the falling mast was instantly taken advantage of by our captain, who, heading the boarders, dashed fearlessly on to the enemy’s quarter-deck. Here he found Bill and his party at close quarters, hammering away like anchor-smiths; but the numbers were too many to cope with, and we were compelled to retreat. Just, however, as we had reached the sides of our own frigate,—‘Where’s the captain? where’s the captain?’ resounded on all sides. The Spaniards had grappled him, when Bill and his comrades again rushed back, and brought him off in safety.

“Well, d’ye see, at it we went again like sons of thunder; when shortly after, the ships parted and we played a game at long bowls. The enemy had all picked men, who fought with determined resolution; but the precision of our fire soon thinned their numbers, and orders were again given to prepare to board.

“‘Come here, my man,’ said the captain to Bill; ‘you’re a brave fellow, and deserve promotion: what shall I get for you?’

“‘Only a glass of grog, your honour, just to drink your honour’s health, and success to the day,’ says Bill.

“‘Well, well,’ says the captain, ‘I see your wishes are not unbounded; so go to my steward, and tell him to give you a bottle of rum.’

“‘Ey, ey, sir,’ answered Bill; ‘but if your honour would just let me speak a word,—may be your honour would not be angry if I axed for a toothful for all hands. The purser can afford it, your honour; and the people have had cobwebs in their throats these two hours. It would give ’em a little more spirit just before boarding.’

“‘I scarce know what to say to it, my man,’ replies the skipper; ‘however, send the purser’s steward here.’

“The steward came, and a tub of grog was soon mixed upon the main-deck, and equally as soon despatched. ‘All ready,’ was now heard fore-and-aft, when the helm was put up. ‘Stand by, my boys, as we pass under his stern,’ cried the captain: ‘point your guns well; pour it into him; and then follow me.’

“The Spaniards seemed to be aware of our intention; for they immediately hove all aback; but they could not accomplish their object, while we came easily round upon his quarter, and gave him a whole raking broadside double-shotted. All hands rushed from below; and, in less than two minutes, scoured the enemy’s decks; while Bill and a party broke in the cabin-windows, and dashed forward on the main-deck, bearing down all before them. The two captains met, and science was instantly called into play, while for a few minutes both parties seemed to pause, as if the victory depended on the conqueror; but a Spaniard, unnoticed, levelled his musket at our captain, and the ball lodged in his hand. The sword instantly dropped, but the gallant Spaniard scorned to take advantage; he lowered the point of his weapon, and flew to another part of the deck.

“Again the battle closed, and each fought with a determination to conquer or die. At last, three British cheers resounded from abaft; and there, upon the taffrail, stood Bill, hoisting the English colours over the Spanish at the peak. Several Spaniards flew to resent the insult, and the poor fellow would, no doubt, have fallen, had he not caught hold of a little French officer in the Spanish service, and held him up as a shield against their thrusts, till timely assistance rescued him. This affair, however, had divided the attention of the enemy, while it cheered up our men to fresh exertion. With one desperate rush they cut down all before them, and in a few minutes more, the frigate was our own. The slaughter ceased, and we were all good friends. The two captains dined together, and ever after lived like brothers; while the prisoners shared in our messes and partook of our grog.

“In overhauling our prize, we found she was from Buenos Ayres, with a freight of money. So away we went into port with gold candlesticks at each yard-arm, and at each mast-head; and as long as it lasted, fiddles, girls, coaches,—all were in motion; till by dint of hard labour we got rid of it, and then tossed up the anchor for more.”

I was highly entertained with these characteristic sketches of the man-of-war’s man, and the old boys seemed delighted with the opportunity of relating their former achievements. I was also much pleased with the deference they seemed to pay to each other, and the attachment which appeared to exist amongst them. The grog, however, began to operate a little, and the question was put, “whether his honour would like to hear a song?” Of course I acceded to any thing that was calculated to increase their enjoyments, and one of the younger men of the party—a marine, but blind—gave us the following song, which my old chaperon whispered to me was one of his own making.

This song was sung with no small degree of feeling and taste. Other songs followed, with a few characteristic observations and sentimental touches between them, till the termination of one which had for its burthen.

“Sweet creatures!” exclaimed Bill Jennings “I loves ’em all a little, d’ye see; for what’s a sailor without a sweetheart? Why, he’s like a ship without a rib,—like a mast without stays,—like a lanniard without a dead-eye,—like a binnacle without a compass,—or a block without a sheave. Pretty dears! they’re the very ach-me of a sailor’s hopes,—the main-top of his heart. What, though the Turks think they’ve got no souls, you and I, your honour, both of us know, (and which of us doesn’t?) that they have got souls and spirits too, bless ’em! for I take it that’s much the same thing. I’ve seen ’em of all colours and shapes from the Hopping-tops at the Cape to the Axquemo near the North Pole; but there’s none to beat our own countrywomen. All the Wenuses of Italy,—all the beauties of Buss-aloney,—all the brilliant black eyes of Spanish America, can’t box the compass with the dear little lasses of our native land.

“Ah, I can remember the first time I fell in love, by tumbling down the main-hatchway! ’Twas when I was with Cook, out at the Sandwich Islands, where King Tommy-rammer and his wife came from. D’ye see, we had been refitting the rigging, and one of the ladies of Owyhee would be my doll-sinner; so she lent me a hand to tar the parcelling and pass the ball; and we were as kind and as loving as two tartle-doves. Well, I was walking near the hatch-way, when, somehow or other, I capsized, and Lowtowchinchow, in trying to save me, gave me a shove: I cotched hold of her, and away we went, Lowtowchinchow and I, down into the main-hold, like a couple of cherry-bums from the clouds. The hatchway was full of logs, and there we lay, like the babes in the wood, as natural as life. Howsomever, there were no bones broke, so they hauled us up again, and how could I help falling in love with her after that? Oh, we used to talk together, she in her lingo and I in mine, like two cats in a gutter. But what was the use on’t? the fore-topsail was sheeted home, and away we went; I promised to write to her by the first post, but she didn’t understand me, and so I forgot all about it next day.

“In some parts of the world they have a way of marrying what they call Poll-Higgamy; but, Lord love you! it’s all a cheat, d’ye mind; for instead of having one Poll, they marry twenty; and only to go for to think of a man having twenty wives! Howsomever, it’s all a matter of fact; nay, some have more, and our parson used to read about Solomon having hundreds! How a solo-man like Solomon could manage to keep ’em all to their tethers in working ship, I can’t think for the life o’me; but he was a wise man, and understood all manner of tongues, and so, mayhap, he had a way of his own. Pretty dears! one’s enough in England. But I’ve seen ’em, in the hour of peril, in the day of battle and the storm, conquer all the weakness of their natur, and display such cool fortitude, such heroic devotion to their husbands, as would astonish you.

“There was poor Joe Kelson, in the old Sandwich, under Rodney, had his wife on board when they engaged the French fleet off Martinique. She was a timid, delicate little body, one who had been tenderly brought up; yet she left all the luxuries of the shore, a father’s house and a mother’s love, to brave the dangers of the ocean and share a piece of salt junk and a biscuit with the being she loved. Ah, I can remember her looks the morning of the action, while we stood at breakfast! Her face was pale and her quivering lip and tearful eye told all the anguish of her soul. Joe tried to comfort her, but ’twas useless: he talked of honour and of glory; but what was honour and glory to a fainting spirit? Her heart was overwhelmed, and when she came afterward to his quarters on the lower deck, she could hardly support her trembling frame. It was just about noon, and she brought him a bit of dinner: they sat down upon the gun-trucks; but neither of ’em could eat, and it was a hard task upon poor Joe to preserve his firmness. All hands pitied them; and when they parted for the last time, there was scarce a dry eye at the gun.

“Well, d’ye see, about half an hour afterwards we began to engage; but there were cowards in the fleet, rank cowards, and the admiral wasn’t properly supported; so the old Sandwich bore the brunt of the battle, and hot enough it was, too; many a poor fellow dropt his peak and bore up, and as is customary, were directly launched out at the port. At last, poor Joe received a mortal wound that stretched him on the deck. We lifted him up in our arms to carry him to the surgeons in the cock-pit; but he opened his eyes, tried to speak, then gave one convulsive shudder as the last death-pang parted soul and body, and his mortal agonies were over. We stood for the port to give him a sailor’s grave; when, just at this moment, his wife appeared close to us. She had suffered all the tortures of suspense, till apprehension and anxiety for her husband’s safety overcame every fear, and she stood at our sides. The body was half out, and perhaps she would not have recognised it but for her own handkerchief, which she had tied round his neck. We all looked at each other, and then at her, undetermined what to do. She stopped for an instant, and gazed at the face of her husband, as if trying to trace the features; her eye caught the token on his breast; she sprung forward,—but ’twas too late—the body of poor Joe was already in the ocean-wave.

“A wild and piercing shriek followed. She ran to the spot, and would have shared his grave, but was forcibly withheld. She looked at the dark waters, and then tried to catch a view through the thick smoke at the enemy’s fleet. It cleared a little; she saw the French ships to leeward, and her spirit seemed to rise above the noise and din of battle. The roaring of the guns, the rattling of the tackles, and the flashes of the powder,—above all, a feeling of revenge, instead of crushing her delicate frame, appeared to change every operation of her heart. She watched us for some time, and no entreaty could prevail on her to go below; till, at last, she inquired what was her husband’s particular station; and having ascertained it, she instantly supplied his place, and, with undaunted determination, bravely continued to fight at the same gun during the remainder of the action. Nor was this all; for, with the tenderness of a female bosom, she sat up with the wounded, attended to their wants, soothed their complainings, and tried to forget her own sorrows by relieving theirs. The brave Rodney, you may depend upon it, didn’t forget her; and I heard that he obtained a handsome pension to support her.

“There was Mrs. R—, the captain’s wife of the L—— frigate; though for the matter o’that, she was captain, although only rated as mate. Ah, that was an Irish ship; captain Irish,—officers Irish,—men Irish; the ship’s name ought to have been Pat. She dearly loved her lads,—her boys, as she called them,—particularly Mr. O’Shaughnessy, the first-lieutenant, though the midshipmen knew pretty well how to get the weather-gage of her, especially when their case was in a pitiable condition, ‘showing a beggarly account of empty bottles.’ She was a lady, every inch of her, and used to come round the mess-deck morning, noon, and night, to see that all hands were comfortable and happy. If any body wanted liberty, it was only spinning a yarn to the petticoat captain, and they had it directly. Well, d’ye see, we had orders to sail; and so, to the great grief of all hands, Mrs. R. was obliged to leave us, with a heavy heart and a sorrowful countenance. ‘But never mind, boys,’ says she; ‘may be you’ll come back some day; and then, oh!—good bye to you, my boys, and stand by your captain to the last, like Erin’s own sons. Remember, Irishmen must never lose their laurel!’ And so we gave her three cheers as she went over the side.

“Well, after several months’ absence on a long cruise, we once more reached Spithead, and in a day or two a pretty little yacht came working in from St. Helen’s to the anchorage. The officers got their glasses, and word was soon passed that our friend Mrs. R. was on board of her. All hands crowded on deck,—not an officer or man remained below. The captain took his station on the quarter-deck abaft, the officers, especially the midshipmen, were more in advance, while at the gangway stood the old master-at-arms, Michael Malone.

“Mich was a perfect original,—neither sailor nor sodger,—but a strict disciplinarian, as all the boys in the ship could testify. He was, in fact, the very squint-essence of an Irishman. On nine hairs of his head was stuck a little trencher-like hat, with a roof not much bigger than half-a-crown. Behind projected a tail-piece that would have puzzled Hogarth. It was about nine inches long, and stretched out from the neck in a horrorzontal direction, like a tiller shipped the wrong way. His jacket, was of a sandy-gray-russet, embellished with ornamental designs of all colours and shapes. Huge pockets, well filled with rolls of paper, were prominent features, his trousers, (barring the breaches) well patched with corderoy, and his legs were sometimes cased in leather, that had formerly been a pair of military boots; but now, by continual cobbling, had lost their prime-itive shape and looked like a couple of fire-buckets. His countenance was open; for he had a marvellous mouth, that stretched as wide as a turnpike-gate; and his nose hung dangling down, as if to see that nothing passed through without paying toll. But for his eyes, he had a pair of odd ones, that gave you the most agreeable squint in the world, and made him see two ways at once. Many a poor boy has got thrashed for quizzing him, thinking he was looking another way.

“Well there old Mich stood, adjusting his cravat with the utmost gravity, when Mrs. R—— came over the side. Of course every body expected she would have walked aft to the captain; but her delight was so great, that she no sooner got upon the deck than she caught old Mich (being nearest) round the neck, and began kissing him like fury. Mich, equally pleased, returned her embrace with interest, to the great amusement of every soul, fore-and-aft. ‘Oh, my boys,—my boys,’ says she, as soon as Mich let her get breath; ‘joy to the hour that I see you again! Arrah! R—— dear, sure, and I’m so happy!’—So catching the captain in her arms, she gave full evidence of the fact.