this heartless and irrational practice, which kept
captains and their men always strangers, and
prevented the seamen getting attached to a
special ship in that filial, and almost superstitious
way, so truthfully shown by our best naval
novelist, Marryat, whose books were written
in the very midst of the life he described.

A third great grievance was that many of
the older vessels were not thoroughly
seaworthy. Sailors are wild, reckless fellows;
but they will not put out to sea in coffins.
Lord Melville afterwards confessed that when
he came to the helm, he found a fleet of
worn-out ships, that required doubling,
crossbracing, and patching up to prepare them
for the rough pummelling at Trafalgar. It
was also found necessary to reinforce our
crippled squadrons by "donkey frigates," and
by those attenuated cheap seventy-fours that the
sailors called the "Forty Thieves." It was
partly to the weakness and incapability of an
enemy that disregarded its navy, that we were
indebted for our victories at sea.

Another intolerable grievance among sailors
was the cruel and despotic system of impressment.
Merchant seamen coming home sick and
weary from long cruises on the coast of Africa
and dangerous coasting voyages in the West
Indies, were seized in the Channel, at the Nore,
or at St. Helen's, dragged into tenders, and
hurried off, without seeing home or friends,
for five or six years more of compulsory
misery and privation. Slavery itself could not
boast a more iniquitous form of tyranny and
oppression. The ringleaders of mutineers, it
was observed, had generally been impressed
men.

As for the cruel yet almost ludicrous
injustice in the distribution of naval prize money
we need say little, as the complaint still
continues both in the army and the navy, and it
frequently happens that the War Office and
the Admiralty delay such days of settlement
until death lessens the number of recipients.

Sailors are not reflective men, but even they
could see through the hard-heartedness, injustice,
and stupidity of the Board of Admiralty.
In 1783, just after Lord Howe took the place of
Keppell as First Lord, a mutiny broke out in the
ships at Portsmouth, Plymouth, and Sheerness.
The crews had been told that they were to be sent
to the West Indies—even the crews of the vessels
just returned from those detested and dangerous
ports. The Janus (44) headed the outbreak,
the men keeping their officers under hatches,
and refusing to let the captain, who had gone
on shore, return on board. The captain at last,
finding an opportunity to return, harangued
the men, and confessed that the ship was to be
kept in commission, and was destined for the
American station. The men grew stark mad at
this; would hear no more, and rushed down to
their quarters with lighted matches, prepared to
fire on any boats that approached them. The
port admiral instantly wrote to Lord Howe, who
came down at once from London boldly and
alone. The side of the Janus was manned by the
mutineers, and the side ropes put over with all
honours and with the greatest respect. Lord
Howe then desired all hands to be called, and
harangued them reproachfully on the quarter-
deck. He assured them he was always ready to
listen to any complaints, and he promised them
that the Janus should be at once paid off,
contrary to the intention of his predecessor. The
men gave three cheers. The "sailors' friend"
had crushed the mutiny by an act of kindness,
kindly done.

A few months after this, a mutiny also broke
out in the Raisonnable (Captain Lord Harvey),
just returned from the Leeward Islands. The
ship was ordered to Chatham, to be paid
off. The men, tired of work, declared they
would not go round, but would have their
money at once in Portsmouth harbour. They
had already begun to unmoor the ship, when
Lord Harvey ordered twelve of the ringleaders
to be seized and put into irons. The mutiny
then ceased. At the court-martial, seven sailors
were sentenced to death, three were sentenced
to three hundred lashes, and two were acquitted.
Three only, however, eventually suffered, and,
at Lord Harvey's intercession, the punishment
of the rest was remitted.

Lord Howe at this time was very discontented
with the state of our navy. He found his
flag-ship, the Victory, "filthy," and the discipline
so bad, that he confessed he did not think it safe
for a man to trust himself with such a fleet. In
1794, there was a very serious outbreak on
board the Culloden. The men were afraid of
the vessel, and wanted it docked and examined.
A letter, stating their grievances, and signed
"A Delegate," was written to Lord Bridport,
then second in command. Captain Trowbridge,
however, applied for a court-martial on ten of
the ringleaders, of whom two were acquitted,
and eight sentenced to be hanged.

But it was in the year 1797—a year
memorable for the gallant actions of Sir John Jervis
off Cape St. Vincent, and Admiral Duncan off
the Texel, that the worst mutinies broke out.
Seventy-nine naval courts-martial are recorded
in that year alone.

As early as March, 1797, petitions were sent
to Lord Howe, then at Bath for the benefit of
the waters, begging him to solicit the Admiralty
to raise the sailors' pay, as had been lately done
to the army and militia, and also to make some
provision for their wives and families. Lord
Howe, Lord Bridport, and Sir Peter Parker,
the port admiral, thinking all these petitions to be
the work of merely one factious person, cast them
into the official waste-paper basket. In April,
however, it was discovered that the various
crews were in correspondence, and there was a
plan to seize the vessels and turn out the officers.
On the 15th of April, Admiral Bridport, being
telegraphed from the Admiralty, signalled the
fleet to prepare for sea. Instead of weighing
anchor, the men of the Queen Charlotte instantly
mounted the rigging, and gave three cheers.
These cheers were answered from every ship.
The next day, two delegates were chosen by
each ship, and Lord Howe's cabin appointed
for their conferences. On the 17th, every