pitied! Alas! a sailor gets no more rest than a ground-tier but. Mr. Llewellyn.-You are right, Sir. A sailor slceps twenty-five hours out of the twenty-four. When Jack comes upon deck to relieve the watch, he finds Ben fast asleep under the lee of the longboat with a swab for a pillow. Come Ben, says he, jogging him, rouse out and give us your birth. What, says Ben, rising up and rubbing his eyes, Is the watch called? Aye, says Jack, 'tis almost one bell. Ben now goes below, and Jack takes possession of his warm birth under the boat. Is that our steward upon the forecastle? Look at the hawbuck! Now the ship has no motion, he walks the deck as stiff as a midshipman. Mr. Adams.-I love that fellow as the devil loves holy-water. Ask him to do a thing, and he grumbles and growls like a bear with a sore head. The first dark night I find him below in the cabin, when there are no witnesses by, I'll serve him, by heaven, as Paddy did the drum. I'll give the fellow a good baiting. Mr. Llewellyn.-I reckon our steward has good learning. His chest is full of books. I reckon he has been a school-master ashore, but that sooner than own it, he would impose himself upon us for a running-footman to a barber. Mr. Adams.--Look at the fellow, how he stands with his hands in his bcckets, staring at the land. He is coming aft. Steward. Mr. Adams, is that point of land, Sir, opposite to us, the Start? Mr. Adams. Start yourself you precious fellow out of my way, You have no business to windward. Stewards, Doctor's Mates, and Midshipmen, go always to leeward. If you don't take yourself to the other side of the deck, I'll shove you over stock and fluke. Steward.-Do Mr. Adams let me look at the land; the dear English land! Mr. Adams.-D-n my body if I would give Dismal Swamp in Virginia for England, Ireland, and Scotland. Mr. Llewellyn. I am glad you left out Wales. Mr. Adams.-Llewellyn, did you ever see a Welch Man of War? The negurs on the Coast of Guinea say, Englishman have ship! Dutchman have ship! Frenchman have ship! Welchman be like negur! be live in a bush! Steward.--I am an Englishman! Roast beef and plumb pudding! Mr. Llewellyn.-You are a soldier tco, an't you steward? - Steward. Yes, Sir, when I get ashore. I had always a military turn. When I belonged to the Bow-Bell volunteers, I marched and counter-> marched from Temple-bar to Tower hill, without any thing to support nature but a penny jamcustard. I bought it of Tim Tartlet. Tim had on his regimentals when I put the penny into his hand. He belonged to the rear-guard, and was on the alert to join the last rank. 'Twas the night of the illuminations. Tim and I walked out in the evening together arm and arm. A boy put a squib into Tim's regimental coatpocket and frightened him to death. Lord! how I did laugh! Well! it does not signify talking, but after all a soldier's life is a very pleasant one. The Steward sings. Dancing now before the tent! Now with weary marching spent! Mr. Llewellyn.-I say, you steward! D-n your precious melt! If I hear you again say another word about being a soldier, I'll make the boy Cunningham come aft and heave you overboard. Mr. Adams.—Go wash your dishes, you dirty rascal. Steward. I washed the dishes last night, Sir. If you Mr. Adams.-Stand clear, steward. don't feed my cats before you give the passengers their breakfast, I'll get the cook's burgoo-stirrer, bring you to the windlass, and cob you, you rascal, 'till I take all the red out of your face. Mr. Llewellyn.-Sheet it home, Adams. Raise a Bunker's Hill on his back.-The ship's not her course. What are you doing with the ship, Handspike? You yaw her about like a dog in a fair. Mind your port helm ! Man at the helm.-Port it is! Mr. Adams.-Now I'll go below and turn in. I get no more rest than the vane at the masthead. Llewellyn, take care the ship does not fall overboard. Mr. Llewellyn.Aye! Aye! Sir! Aye! Aye! September 14, 1802.-We have had a decent run this day along the British coast, and it was no undelightful employment to look through the glass at the towns, villages, and green fields, which projecting into the water, seemed to court its translucent flood. Here and there the surf breaking partially on the shore heightened the beauty of the scene. Having passed the Start, we hauled up for the Race of Portland, one of the most remarkable promontories on the coast. The passengers have been the whole of the day upon deck, expressing their impatience to imprint the shore with their feet. Illusion all! The shore will bring them no accession of happiness. If they could leave their cares and vexations behind them in the ship's hold, it would be something; but they will not have to go many miles on land to detect the fallaciousness of that hope which points to happiness by change of place. A seventy-four gun ship has been working. down channel, in company with a frigate. Long may England smile in the sweet exultation of conscious safety, while she has ships ready to cruize, and heroes to command them ! At night not being very remote from the island, we shortened sail and hove to, being in want of light. Let this circumstance impress on the minds of my readers the necessity of attending to the words of the Lord of Life: Work while have light; the night cometh when no man can work! Soon will the night of darkness, the long night of death, overtake us all; when happy will be they who have not been unmindful of employing the light while it remained, in the work of their master. ye We made sail with the rising sun, and no pilot coming off, undertook to seek our port without one. This confidence in our own skill was almost the instrument of giving the good ship Olive her quietus; not, indeed, as Hamlet says, with a bodkin, but a needle. The flood tide had made. We did not know it was necessary to keep over upon the Shingles, and the girls treacherously letting go the tow-rope, the good ship Olive lost her way through the water, and every body expected she would come with her broadside upon the Needle Rock. Thus the good ship Olive was on the brink of losing her life by a needle! And now when we had escaped the disgrace of being discomfited by a bare needle, a pilot came |