a good deal of the misfortune is attributable to the mistaken means which were then adopted of filling the King's ships. Neither by voluntary enlistment nor the use of the press-gang could hands enough be picked up, and recourse was had in an evil hour to the prisons. Rogues and vagabonds from all quarters, pickpockets, thieves, and swindlers; fellows who, if tried, were sure to cross the herring-pond, if indeed they escaped the gallows, were allowed, when brought before the magistracy, to volunteer for his Majesty's navy,-nay, I am mistaken if, in some instances, the very inmates of condemned cells were not cleared out, and handed over to the officers commanding tenders. Now these fellows had all a certain degree of education, with a great deal of cunning, and the gift of the gab; and they were always ready, not only to get up grievances for themselves, but to impress upon the minds of those about them, that they were aggrieved also. I know that in Lord St. Vincent's fleet we had our own share of these land-sharks, and I am inclined to think it was by them that our mutiny was got up. But, however this may be, the crews of several of the ships began about the end of June to run rusty, and the officers found it no easy matter to maintain even the appearance of discipline. And here again I must take care to add, that I make these statements rather from hearsay than personal knowledge; for our ship never caught the infection, though no efforts were spared to inoculate us. There never came a boat from the St. George, for example, that did not bring one or more disseminators of mischief, who did their very best to make us discontented with our lot, and seemed both astonished and annoyed that we would not adopt their views. But they had a taut hand to deal with in old Jarvis, who made such good use of the yard-arm, when the necessities of the case required, that he came to be familiarly spoken of among the seamen as hanging Jarvis. I don't mean to say that he ever hanged a man improperly; and am quite sure that the gentlemen whom he strung up on the present occasion, richly deserved their fate.

Mutiny is the very last means to which either sailor or soldier will think of resorting for the purpose of getting redress even of serious grievances; but mutiny in the presence of an enemy-the man who can think of that deserves more than hanging. Now such was precisely the situation of our fleet when symptoms of discontent became so frequent and so glaring among us, as to render the interference of authority prompt, bold, and ruthless, absolutely necessary. I think it was in the St. George that this spirit first showed itself, though it was not there that, in the outset, at least, matters were carried to an extreme; but the admiral having caused three rare jail-birds to be tried by court-martial, determined that the St. George's crew should have the honour of casting them off. The people looked exceedingly blank when the prisoners came on board, though they said nothing, neither was any opposition offered to the arrangement which placed them, in close irons, under charge of the marines; but the same evening a remonstrance was presented to Captain Peard, by which the delegates declared that the whole ship's company would stand, and which he was required to lay before the admiral. He took it, of course, he could not well avoid taking it, -and he carried it to the flag-ship. But the mutineers, if they calculated on overawing Lord St. Vincent, had entirely mistaken their

man. Captain Peard was directed to return their paper to his people, and to tell them that the culprits should be executed, as their sentence required, at the yard-arm of their ship.

Captain Peard was a resolute man, and he was well supported by his officers, especially by his first lieutenant, John Hatley. He saw, from the bearing of his crew, that there was mischief brewing, and he made up his mind to deal with it vigorously whenever it should come to a head. Accordingly, when on the evening previous to the day which had been fixed for the execution, intelligence reached him that their plans had all been matured, he boldly threw himself with his first lieutenant into the waste, where the ship's company were assem→ bled." I know what you are up to, my lads," said he. "You have spoken of seizing the ship, turning the officers adrift, and giving these scoundrels their liberty. I warn you that the attempt to do so will cost you dear, for I will resist you to the utmost of my power; and, as I know the ringleaders, I will bring them, at all events, to justice." -The men heard him; but either fancying that matters had gone too far, or worked upon by the obstinacy of their leaders, they not only refused to go to their quarters, but gave utterance to threats of defiance. Captain Peard and Mr. Hatley had taken their part, and they went through with it. They rushed into the middle of the throng, grasped the ringleaders by the collar, and dragging them out unopposed, except by the efforts of the mutineers themselves, put them in irons. There is nothing like a display of courage and selfpossession in such cases for getting rid of difficulties. The mutinous seamen returned at once to their allegiance, and the same night there was not a better conducted crew in all the fleet than that of the St. George.

We knew nothing of what had happened, and were therefore at a loss to assign a cause for the appearance of a signal, which as a repeating frigate we sent on, requiring all the ships to draw together round the St. George. This was about seven o'clock in the evening of the 6th of June. But we obeyed it of course; and I can testify to the fact, that decks more quiet than those of the ship in question were not to be seen throughout the fleet. We knew, indeed, that an execution had been appointed for the morrow; and as the causes of that execution were more than usually stringent, we should have taken it for granted that the object of this concentration was to give to it all the weight of an extended example, had not the position of the St. George been such as to carry us farther than seemed to be convenient from the harbour's mouth. But as the case stood, this hardly satisfied us, and we demanded one of another whether all were right. No boats were permitted all that night to pass from ship to ship; no certain information therefore reached us. Yet the care with which the admiral laid the Ville de Paris alongside the St. George, and kept her there, left very little for a more direct messenger to communicate. We suspected that here, as well as elsewhere, evil spirits had been busy, and we watched for the dawn of day with some anxiety. It came at last, and with it the firing of the gun, and the hoisting of the pennant half-mast high, which told of preparations going on for the violent extinction of human life. There is something very awful, I had well-nigh said humiliating, in such a scene as that of which I am now speaking. We may hate the crime, and think hardly of the criminal; but as the moment

approaches which is to put an end to his career, we shrink almost involuntarily from the sight of his last agonies. I defy you, indeed, to close your eyes, or even to turn them away, so soon as the second gun gives notice that all is in readiness; and when the booming of the third is followed by the running up of the doomed men to the yard-arm, you watch them while they spin aloft, as if you were compelled to do so by the influence of a spell. Poor devils! the sufferings of these three seemed to be very short. They never stirred a muscle after their heads reached the block.

Let me hurry over this part of my story. There was another court-martial on the leaders of the revolt in the St. George, another condemnation, and another hanging match; but there the matter ended. Both in her and in the rest of the ships the people returned to their senses, and the blockade was continued with unremitting energy and perfect success.

CHAPTER III.

Containing some account of other perils than war which accompany a soldier's life, and showing how a man may establish a quiet claim of admission into Chelsea Hospital.

--

FROM this date, up to the conclusion of the short peace in 1802, I continued knocking about, through the Mediterranean, along the Bay of Biscay, now and then taking a cruise in the Adriatic, but never getting foot on shore, at least in an English port. At last the order arrived a pleasant one for us-to make the best of our way to Portsmouth, outside which we no sooner anchored than the captain left us. By and by came the signal to work in from Spithead to the harbour, and to dismantle and strip the frigate, preparatory to her being laid up in ordinary; while to us, who were still kept together, berths were assigned in an old hulk hard by, with full liberty to go on shore as often as we liked. I enjoyed this season of half work half play exceedingly, but it did not last long; for just as we were reckoning on being paid off, and sent adrift in concert, fresh instructions were received, and the frigate was again put in order of service. Away we next went to Deptford, where the Alarm, of twenty-eight guns was lying, and into her we were, without the smallest ceremony, bundled. But it soon came out that our connexion with the new ship was not intended to be a lasting one. We carried her round to Portsmouth, and almost immediately afterwards got our discharge.

I had not forgotten Ben Hartley's injunction to seek out Sall, and give her his dying message. I knew that she was to be heard of in Portsmouth; for, if the truth must be spoken, Sall was not, more than sailors' sweethearts in general, very fastidious as to the sort of company which she kept; yet, somehow or another, I had not been able, when there with the Caroline frigate, to discover any trace of her. This time I was more fortunate. We were paid off on the 23d of April, and that same day I met her at the Point. Why should I make a short tale long? Sall was a kind creature; she wept when she saw Ben's backy-box, and she smiled through her tears as I endeavoured to comfort her. We became sworn messmates on the spot, and the very next day we were married.

My wife was a native of a village near Birmingham; and, as all parts of the world were the same to me, I agreed, at her suggestion,

to remove thither, and begin housekeeping. We went accordingly, and for several years I spent my days there very pleasantly, if at times somewhat hardly; for Sall was an excellent manager; my pension was regularly paid, I picked up an odd job wherever I could get it, and the arrears of my pay, which were at the time of our marriage considerable, helped to keep the wolf from the door even when work was slack. But the war broke out again, and the press for seamen became by and by so great, that I could not reckon from day to day on an escape from capture. Now I had got tired of a sea life, before I abandoned it in 1802, and the thought of returning to it, after so long a rest on shore, was very disagreeable to me. Yet, as rewards were offered to such as would report to the officer on the impress service where seamen might be found, I knew that I was continually at the mercy of any person who might think it worth his while to sell me. I became annoyed and irritable, and said to myself, let come what will, I won't go to sea. Therefore, in order to avoid that risk, I went one day to a public-house, where a recruiting party from the thirty-eighth regiment hung out, and having drunk pretty freely, I offered myself, and was accepted, as a soldier. It was in the second battalion of the thirty-eighth, which was then newly formed, that I enlisted. I cannot say that I retain any very agreeable impression of the effect which was produced upon me by my early career as a soldier. The perpetual drill was a nuisance intolerable, especially to me, who could not for a long while be made to understand their words of command; and the stiff stocks, and the pipe-clay, and all the rest of it, I did not know whether to laugh at the whole concern, or to be driven to my wits' end by it. But custom reconciles us wonderfully to all things. When we got our route for Ireland, about four months after I joined the corps, I had become, though I say it myself, a smart soldier; and during the entire period of my service with the regiment, I am not aware that I ever forfeited the character.

I am not sure that much good would be accomplished were I to give a detailed account of my home service, which wore itself out partly in Ireland, partly in the island of Guernsey. In the former of these countries we went through the usual routine of marching,— from Waterford to Cork, from Cork to Kinsale, from Kinsale to Dublin, where for some time we were stationary. In the latter, which we reached in the early part of 1810, we did not linger long. We were ordered soon after our arrival to join the army in Portugal, and embarked for that purpose. It was now, for the first time since our marriage, that I parted from my poor wife, and a sore heart the parting occasioned to both; for, in spite of the haste with which the wedding was got up, we loved each other tenderly. But there was no help for it, inasmuch as her name did not come up in the list of those who were to accompany the regiment. Accordingly she betook herself to her native village, unencumbered, happily for her, with any children; while I went away with my comrades on board of the transport, which waited to receive us.

We had a fair passage, tedious perhaps, but not otherwise uncomfortable, and landed in Lisbon, where we were put into quarters till the necessary field equipments should be supplied. These came in due time; after which we were marched up the country, and joined the army in its position behind the Coa, just as the French, under

Massena, were advancing to besiege Ciudad Rodrigo. We were immediately attached to General Leith's division, and brigaded with the first battalion of the ninth regiment, as gallant a corps as ever shouldered arms, or drew trigger in presence of an enemy.

I am not going to describe the retreat to the lines of Torres Vedras, nor yet the battle of Busaco, which broke in upon its monotony. These tales have been told at least a hundred times, and I could add nothing to the interest which others have shed over them. For what could I relate, except that we toiled on day after day, heavily laden, indifferently fed, and witnessing all round us spectacles of desolation which wrung our very hearts. So also in reference to the battle; if I were to give my version of it, there are fifty chances to one if it would not be found to be at variance with the versions of others. I saw nothing, and heard nothing, except the line of Frenchmen whom my own regiment opposed, and the noise of their and our musketry, enlivened by a heavy fire of cannon; and as to the rest, soldiers have described their feelings both before and after so frequently, that there really seems to me nothing of which I can make mention. Enough, then, is done when I state, that I went through the day's work unscathed, and that the following morning I retired with the rest of the army, pleased with the victory which we had gained, yet well knowing that to retire was necessary.

I am not, and never was, a very strong man; and even at the date of the battle of Busaco I had passed my prime. My early habits, too, were all against me in sustaining the fatigues of such a campaign, and I sank before long under them. At Coimbra I fell sick, and could keep my place in the ranks no longer. Together with many others, whose case was similar to mine, I was accordingly put into a waggon, and sent on under an escort to the general hospital at Belem. I cannot say that everything was arranged here on the scale of abundance which marked the arrangement of affairs in the naval hospital at Plymouth; yet we had no right to complain, for the medical gentlemen were unremitting in their attentions, and all was done for us, I verily believe, which the state of the magazines would allow. But it was found, after I had been an inmate of the hospital for some time, that I was not likely to be of farther use in Portugal; so they sent me home, together with a whole batch of invalids, to be disposed of as the commander-in-chief might deem expedient. To have kept me on the strength of the thirty-eighth regiment, under such circumstances, would have been clearly an act of imposture. I was accordingly transferred to the third garrison battalion, and joined it in the autumn of 1812, while it was doing duty among the forts and batteries, which at that period overlooked in all directions the entrance of Cork harbour.

I do not know how far the composition of the garrison battalions, as they then existed, may be generally understood. Originally embodied as an army of reserve, these corps, fourteen in number, were never expected to serve beyond the limits of the United Kingdom,— that is to say, they were liable to be sent any where throughout Great Britain and Ireland, and the islands adjacent, but could not be called upon to cross the seas, even for the purpose of occupying one of our more distant possessions. As the war thickened, however, this reservation of their usefulness was found to be inconvenient; so, instead of enlisting fresh men, they had their casualties supplied by