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that it should be kept up and we should strongly recommend that no such place as what is called a rendezvous may be allowed to exist; very few good men are raised at the best of them, and one half that are raised are discharged on being regulated, as unfit or illegally taken. The real tar will not long continue to shut himself up on shore, and it is little enough to permit him, while there, to remain undisturbed, and to consider him only as fair game when afloat. Indeed, so much improved in every respect has been the treatment of the seamen in his majesty's fleet that, in all the foreign stations where a king's ship may be lying, the masters of merchant vessels have the greatest difficulty to prevent their men from deserting to join the former. It is therefore, perhaps, not too much to hope that, in a future war, after the first bustle to get out a fleet to sea is over, (and this must be done instantaneously at all hazards,) the navy will be able to keep up the complement of seamen by volunteers.

This affair is, after all, an evil more in the abstract than in reality-a subject for poets and painters to exercise their pens and pencils upon in vivid description and glowing colours,—a theme for declamation by noisy politicians-a sop o' th' moonshine' thrown by some pledged delegate to sooth his constituents. Persons of this description affect to be sensibly hurt at the practice of flogging in the army and the navy,-denounce it as cruel, inhuman, and unnecessary: with their accustomed liberality they seem to think that they, who are placed under the painful necessity of ordering such punishment, must have less feeling than themselves who declaim against it-nay, even derive a pleasure from inflicting it. We hear, however, of many better-disposed persons than these, talking of substitutes for this punishment; in the army, this might, perhaps, in most instances, be resorted to, but not so in the navy. The scheme has, in fact, been tried in fifty ways, and in all totally failed. The prevailing vice of sailors is drunkenness, and this it is utterly impossible to put an end to under any of the plans suggested. If a man declares his allowance intoxicates him (and it is certainly much more than it ought to be) the captain may abridge it, and credit his account with the value of the remainder; but where every man and boy has his whole allowance, the drunkard will have no difficulty in finding the means of frequently indulging his unfortunate propensity. Some captains have tried to shame the delinquents by making them objects of ridicule,-clapping a fool's cap on their heads,-labelling their jackets,-putting a collar round their necks; but such expedients have been found wholly inefficient. One officer fitted up a large puncheon as a tread-mill; but this disgusted the whole ship's company, who, one and all, called

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out for the old-established punishment. Solitary confinement on board ship is scarcely practicable, and if it were, is by no means advisable.

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"Solitary confinement,' says Captain Hall, I take to be one of the most cruel, and, generally speaking, one of the most unjust of all punishments; for it is incapable of being correctly measured, and it almost always renders the offender worse. It is apt also to protract his sufferings far beyond all required bounds; while it not only prompts him and gives him time to brood over his most revengeful purposes, but irritates him against his officers and his duty, degrades him in his own eyes, and, if long continued, almost inevitably leads to insanity and suicide.'*

We entirely concur in the opinion of this distinguished officer, that the transient nature of the punishment at the gangway, as compared with the prolonged misery of solitary confinement, leaves no time for discontent to rankle, nor any permanent ill-will on the mind of a sailor, either towards his captain or towards the service. In point of fact, however, since that most beneficent and humane regulation of the Admiralty, which requires a written warrant to be issued by the captain for the punishment of a seaman, setting forth the offence, and also a quarterly return to be made of all such warrants and punishments, the lash has rarely been resorted to-more rarely in proportion to the sound discipline of the ship. But though the frequency of punishment be abated, the power of punishing must remain, otherwise there will soon be an end to that good discipline in the navy on which alone its efficiency can be maintained.

Asserting then, as we fearlessly do, the absolute necessity of continuing the power of impressment and the power of punishment, if we are to maintain in its vigour that arm of our strength and security-the navy we at the same time as fearlessly deny that a pressed man is a slave to the will of a despot.' Such a doctrine, we believe, has never been broached since the days of the mutiny in the fleet, which, in the opinion of those best acquainted with the service, would never have happened had the just rights and reasonable claims of the seamen been then attended to. At that time there were, no doubt, commanders in the fleet, who carried

* The Third, and we are sorry to hear it called last, series of Captain Hall's Fragments of Voyages and Travels, from which we quote, does not present any features of novelty sufficient to demand another separate article; but we take this opportunity of expressing the pleasure with which we have perused its many vivid descriptions and sagacious remarks. We sincerely hope the author will continue his lucubrations in some other form. It is a strong measure to advise any man now-a-days to try a novel -but there is such a power of life in Captain Hall's nautical portraitures, and such a gentlemanlike vein of fun withal, that we cannot but say we wish he would make the attempt to be the Smollett of our Vernons.

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on the duty in a harsh, imperious, and insolent manner; but this, though it often disgusted the true seamen, created no disposition to mutiny; their open and honest hearts were taken advantage of and corrupted, and driven to a state of insubordination and disobedience, not by the conduct of their officers, but by a set of outcasts of the earth, disgorged from the common jails, and sent into the fleet under the name of quota men.

At the time of this unfortunate event, the character of the English sailor was most faithfully drawn, by one who understood him well, in these striking sentences:

'The British sailor is thoughtless, and inattentive to what concerns his own happiness; but not indifferent either to the interest of his country, the glory of the navy, or the renown of the individual ship to which he belongs. He is cheerfully active, and prompt in the execution of his duty; patient of fatigue, as well as of the vicissitudes of weather and climate; steady and collected at his post in the hour of danger; obedient, respectful, and attached to the officer worthy to command him; faithful and true to his king and country. He has an open, honest, and faithful heart; he is courageous in action, and humane in victory; he is the life and soul of our commerce, the guardian and bulwark of the nation: yet these men, the pride and safety of their country, are, for the most part, pressed into the service.'

It is of the seamen of this period that the author of 'The PortAdmiral' writes. Pressed as they were, could such men as these deserve to be called slaves?—Yes, for one short but awful interval, they were indeed 'slaves,' and at the will of 'despots' composed of the very scum and scouring of society; but the moment these deluded men perceived they had been artfully led astray from their duty to their king and country, and that there was a disposition to listen to their real grievances on the part of the government, from that moment they deserted their leaders, who had assumed the name of delegates, and tendered submission and obedience to their officers. Most of these delegates, as well as Richard Parker, the chief conductor of the mutiny, were tried, and executed, complaining bitterly of the ingratitude of the seamen in deserting them and the cause!

We happen to have in our possession a striking letter, addressed by Parker, two days previous to his execution, to a person who had known him from his earliest infancy. As this dying declaration of the unfortunate man has never been published, we shall take this opportunity of placing it on record :—it is curious in itself, and may read a lesson to all pledge-bolting and pledgebound delegates, whether in or out of the fleet,

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Copy of the Dying Declaration of Richard Parker.*
'June 28th, 1797.

Dear Sir,-In my awful situation, I have great consolation to find that I still possess your esteem and merit your commiseration. Heaven grant you may long outlive the painful recollection of my unfortunate fate! A little while and I must depart from this world, and for ever close my eyes upon its vanity, deceitfulness, and ingratitude. My passage through it has been short but chequered ;-my departure from it will be extremely boisterous, but I seriously assure you, upon my part, by no means unwilling. The only comfortable reflection which I at present enjoy, is, that I am to die a martyr in the cause of humanity. I know the multitude think hard things of me, but this gives me no uneasiness, for my conscience testifies that the part which I have acted amongst the seamen has been right, although not to be justified by prudence. The latter consideration is the only compunction which I feel, under my doleful calamity: yes! prudence urges that I ought to have known mankind better than blindfold to have plunged into certain destruction.

'Long since I had learnt that the miseries under which the lower classes groan are imputable in a great measure to their ignorance, cowardice, and duplicity; and that nothing short of a miracle could ever afford them any relief. This experience, prudence too late teaches me, should have been my guard against that fatal error which forfeits my life. However severe this reflection, still I preserve my fortitude, and I am enabled to do this, by considering that, as a human being, I stand subject to human passions, the noblest of which is a tender sensibility at every species of human woe: thus influenced, how could I indifferently stand by, and behold some of the best of my fellow-creatures cruelly treated by some of the very worst? I candidly confess I could not; and because I could not, fate consigns me to be a victim to the tenderest emotions of the human heart. Upon the word of a dying man, I solemnly declare, that I was not an original mover of the disturbances amongst those men who have treated me so very ungratefully. Also, that I was elected by my shipmates their delegate, without my knowledge, and in the same manner, by the delegates, their president. I was compelled to accept those situations much against my inclination, by those who pushed me into them; and I did by no means attain them in the manner which has been scandalously reported, by persons who are purposely prejudiced or ignorant of the matter. It is well known what authority the seamen had over their delegates, and in what ferocious manner the delegates were frequently treated, for not according with every wild scheme which the sailors proposed to carry into practice. I further declare, that from the aggregate body originated every plan, and that during the time the delegates held their perilous situations, they always acted pursuant to, and obeyed the instructions of their constituents. How I and. my unfortunate colleagues have been rewarded for our fidelity in

The italics in this letter are Parker's own.

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thus acting, those who have any sense of moral obligation will easily determine. The only instances in which the delegates acted of themselves, were in those of checking the violence and turpitude of their masters; and this, God knows, we had hard work to do: but considering all circumstances, those who know anything of sailors will readily allow that we preserved much better order than could reasonably have been expected upon such an occasion. For not according with the preposterous ideas of the seamen, I and many more must suffer death. Had we been as decidedly violent as they were, we need not have died like dogs: for all the force which could have been mustered would not have availed, and necessity would have obliged a compliance to our demands. Owing to the delegates' moderation, they have been overcome, and for my own part I cheerfully forgive the vanquishers, for the bloody use they intend to make of their victory: perhaps it is policy in them to do it. From the first moment that I understood the kindness which the delegates were to experience from their employers, I was prepared for the sacrifice; and may Heaven grant that I may be the last victim offered up in the cause of a treacherous and debased commonalty!

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Many will ask, how an insignificant man like myself could merit the confidence of the multitude, so far as to induce them to thrust him forward upon such an occasion? If such inquirers will for a moment reflect, that in a popular commotion, any person who has the misfortune to be in repute for a trifling share of ability is liable to be forced into action, though much against his will, their inquiry will easily be solved, and this was precisely my case. Others will say, how could a man of his information be so indiscreet? Tell such, that RICHARD PARKER, in his last moments, was pierced to the bottom of his soul with asking himself the same question: that he ingenuously owned he was indiscreet, but that it was, as he thought, from laudable motives. At the pressing application of my brother shipmates, I suffered humanity to surmount reason, and I hope my life is a sufficient atonement for my folly. I am the devoted scapegoat for the sins of many; and henceforth, when the oppressed groan under the stripes of the oppressors, let my example deter any man from risking himself as the victim to ameliorate their wretchedness. Having said thus much of my concerns with the seamen, I shall now take the liberty to offer my friend some advice; it is the result of dear-bought experience, and I hope he will profit by it. Remember never to make yourself the busybody of the lower classes, for they are cowardly, selfish, and ungrateful: the least trifle will intimidate them; and him whom they have exalted one moment as their demagogue, the next they will not scruple to exalt upon the gallows. I own that it is with pain I make such a remark to you, but truth demands it: I have experimentally proved it, and very soon am to be made the example of it. There is nothing new in my treatment: compare it with the treatment of most of the advocates for the improvement of the condition of the multitude in all ages; nay, with reverence I write it, with the

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