for the flat bottomed boats, burnt with great fury for about six hours. The inhabitants deserted their houses in the utmost consternation, whilst a numerous body of French troops was employed in throwing up entrenchments, erecting new batteries, and firing with shot and shells at the assailants. A considerable number of the boats destined for our destruction were overset, sunk, or so much damaged, as to be of no farther service. Mr. Rodney had thus the pleasing satisfaction of totally frustrating the design of the French court, and destroying the hostile preparations against this country, as well as ruining the port itself as a naval arsenal. In January, 1780, he took nineteen Spanish transports, a sixty-gun ship, and five frigates; and a short time after he was again victorious over the Spaniards, and took their admiral and five ships. But his greatest victory was over the Count de Grasse in the West Indies in 1782, for which he obtained a peerage, and a pension of two thousand pounds a-year for himself and his immediate successors. Lord Rodney died on the 24th of May, 1792. ANECDOTES, WITTICISMS, &c. The late Admiral Rodney, dining at Carlton House, congratulated the Prince of Wales on seeing a plate of what he thought British cured herrings on the table, adding, that if his Royal Highness's example was followed by the upper ranks only, it would be the means of adding 20,000 hardy seamen to the navy. The Prince observed, that he had paid him an unmerited compliment, the herrings not having been cured by British hands; "but,' continued his Royal Highness, "henceforward I shall order a plate of British cured herrings to be purchased at any expense, to appear as a standing dish at this table; we shall call it a Rodney, and under that designation, what true patriot will not follow my example?" lads, you have seen an English ship blown up, and now let's see what figure a Spanish one will make in the same situation!" This well timed harangue raised their spirits immediately; and in less than an hour he set his antagonist on fire. "There my lads," said he, "I knew we should have our revenge soon." During the late king's stay at Weymouth, being on board the Southampton, on a cruize in the offing, the royal standard flying, and accompanied by the Magnificent, a large American ship proudly displaying her thirteen stripes, thought proper to pass close to the Southampton under a press of sail, not deigning to pay even the customary salute to a man-of-war, of lowering her top-gallant sails. Of this insult it was judged improper for the Southampton to take any notice; but the Magnificent instantly made all sail after the rude Columbian, and having fired a shot a-head of her, she thought proper to make more than the necessary reparation, by lowering both top-gallant-sails and top-sails as a mark of differ ence. In the church of Ampthill in Bedfordshire, is a monument of Robert Nicolls, of Ampthill Park, Governor of Long Island, who being in attendance on the Duke of York, was slain on board his Royal Highness's ship in 1672. A cannon ball, said to be that which caused his death, is fixed in the marble within the pediment, and on the moulding is this inscription : "Instrumentum mortis et immortalitatis." "The instrument of mortality and of immortality." In one of those minor mutinies which followed that of the Nore, a man-of-war on the East India station, began to shew that they had caught the contagion. The crew were solemnly deliberating upon the expediency of taking the command of the ship, and, among others, consulted the captain of the forecastle for his opinion :-" What object do you propose to gain by it?" asked the honest fellow. 66 Why, we want to have our own way," "Then you replied the mutineers. may save yourselves any further trouble," said the veteran, "for to my certain knowledge you have had it these three years. "" This humorous rebuke had a greater effect than might have been expected, for the mutineers immediately gave up their wild intention. When the renowned Adm. Haddock was dying, he begged to see his son, to whom he'thus delivered himself:-"Notwithstanding my rank in life, and public services for so many years, I shall leave you only a small fortune; but, my dear boy, it is honestly got, and will wear well: there are no seaman's wages or provisions in it; nor is there one single penny of dirty money." Poetical Scraps. A SONG. Ben Block was a sailor as brave as could be, Then Ben, as he thought, had enough for them all, Till fortune, that slippery jade, One night shipwrecked all he was worth in a squall, And poor Ben a beggar was made! Yet think not he whimpered or shrunk from the man, No, Ben was as brave as before; His life was preserved for his true-hearted Nan, And he scorned what was lost to deplore; Besides, cried the tar, not a boy have I now But can die for his country and king; I can work, so can Nan, and show Fortune as how, In spite of her frowns, we can sing. 'Twas thus argued Ben, as he sat on a rock, Near which his trim vessel went down, And the hand which had snatched from the billows Ben Block, Determined his wishes to crown; For Ben at that moment his eyes stretching far, Beheld a white sail heave in view, Which reached him, and took in a poor shipwrecked tar, To join with the jolly ship's crew. I thought so, spoke Ben, as he sprang on the deck, A sailor should never despair; Besides, as you see, I am saved from the wreck, And so I am still Fortune's care! You are, said a tar, as he grappled his hand, 'Twas a messmate he'd once saved from jail, For now I can pay what I owe when I land, So cheerly, my heart, let us sail. Ben dropt on his knee, sent a prayer up aloft, Called Providence watchful and kind, Then cried to the friend he had sailed with so oft, We tars are oft shook with the wind; But what matters that, there's an angel unseen Will take us poor sailors in tow, And when we're in danger, will e'er step between, Till Death lets the sheet-anchor go. THE FLYING DUTCHMAN; Our ship, after touching at the Cape, went out again, and soon loosing sight of the Table Mountain, began to be. assailed by the impetuous attacks of the sea, which is well known to be more formidable there than in most parts of the known ocean. The day had grown dull and hazy, and the breeze, which had formerly blown fresh, now sometimes subsided almost entirely, and then recovering its strength, for a short time, and changing its direction, blew with temporary violence, and died away again, as if exercising a melancholy caprice. A heavy swell began to come from the south-east. Our sails flapped against the masts, and the ship rolled from side to side, as heavily as if she had been waterlogged. There was' so little wind that she would not steer. At two P. M. we had a squall, accompanied by thunder and rain. The seamen, growing restless, looked anxiously a-head. They said [No. 9. we would have a dirty night of it, and that it would not be worth while to turn into their hammocks. As the second mate was describing a gale he had encountered off Cape Race, Newfoundland, we were suddenly taken all aback, and the blast came upon us furiously. We continued to scud under a double reefed mainsail and fore-topsail till dusk; but, as the sea ran high, the captain thought it safest to bring her to. The watch on deck consisted of four men, one of whom was appointed to keep a look-out a-head, for the weather was SO hazy, that we could not see two cables' length from the bows. This man, whose name was Tom Willis, went frequently to the bows, as if to observe something; and when the others called to him, inquiring what he was looking at, he would give no definite answer. They therefore went also to the bows, and appeared startled, and at first said nothing. But presently one of them cried, "William, go call the watch." The seamen, having been asleep in their hammocks, murmured at this unseasonable summons, and called to know how it looked upon deck. To which Tom Willis replied, "Come up and see. What we are minding is not on deck, but a-head." On hearing this, they ran up without putting on their jackets, and when they came to the bows there was a whispering. One of them asked, "Where is she? I do not see her." To which another replied, "The last flash of lightning shewed there was not a reef in one of her sails; but we, who know her history, know that all her canvas will never carry her into port." By this time, the talking of the seamen had brought some of the passengers on deck. They could see nothing, however, for the ship was surrounded by thick darkness, and by the noise of the dashing waters, and the seamen evaded the 'questions that were put to them. At this juncture the chaplain came on deck. He was a man of grave and modest demeanour, and was much liked among the seamen, who called him Gentle George. He overheard one of the men asking another, "If he had ever seen the Flying Dutchman before, and if he knew the story about her?" To which the other replied, "I have heard of her beating about in these seas. What is the reason she never reaches port? The first speaker replied, "They give different reasons for it, but my story is this: She was an Amsterdam vessel, and sailed from that port seventy years ago. Her master's name was Vanderdecken. He was a staunch seaman, and would have his own way, in spite of the devil. For all that, never a sailor under him had reason to complain; though how it is on board with them now, nobody knows; the story is, this, that in doubling the Cape, they were a long day trying to weather the Table Bay, which we saw this morning. However, the wind headed them, and went against them more and more, and Vanderdecken walked the deck, swearing at the wind. Just after sunset, a vessel spoke him, asking if he did not mean to go into the Bay that night. Vanderdecken replied," May I be eternally d-d if I do, though I should beat about here till the day of judgment!" And to be sure, Vanderdecken never did go into that bay; for it is believed that he continues to beat about in these seas still, and will do so long enough. This vessel is never seen but with foul weather along with her." "We To which another replied, must keep clear of her. They say that her captain mans his jolly boat, when a vessel comes in sight, and tries hard to get alongside, to put letters on board, but no good comes to them who have communication with him." Tom Willis said, "There is such a sea between us at present, as should keep us safe from such visits." To which the other answered; "We cannot trust to that, if Vanderdecken sends out his men." Some of this conversation having been overheard by the passengers, there was a commotion among them. In the mean time, the noise of the waves against the vessel, could scarcely be distinguished from the sounds of the distant thunder. The wind had extinguished the light in the binnacle, where the compass was, and no one could tell which way the ship's head lay. The passengers were afraid to ask questions, lest they should augment the secret sensation of fear which chilled every heart, or learn any more than they already knew. For while they attributed their agitation of mind to the state of the weather, it was sufficiently perceptible that their alarms also arose from a cause which they did not acknowledge. The lamp at the binnacle being re-lighted, they perceived that the ship lay closer to the wind than she had hitherto done, and the spirits of the passengers were somewhat revived. Nevertheless, neither the tempestuous state of the atmosphere, nor the thunder had ceased; and soon a vivid flash of lightning shewed the waves tumbling around us, and, in the distance, the Flying Dutchman scudding furiously before the wind, under a press of canvass. The sight was but momentary, but it was sufficient to remove all doubt from the minds of the passengers. One of the men cried aloud, "There she goes, top-gallants and all." The chaplain had brought up his prayer-book, in order that he might draw from thence something to fortify and tranquillize the minds of the rest. Therefore, taking his seat near the binnacle, so that the light shone upon the white leaves of the book, he, in a solemn tone, read out the service for those distressed at sea. The sailors stood round with folded arms, and looked as if they thought it would be of little But this served to occupy the attention of those on deck for a while. use. In the mean time, the flashes of lightning becoming less vivid,shewed nothing else, far or near, but the billows weltering round the vessel. The sailors seemed to think that they had not yet seen the worst, but confined their remarks and prognostications to their own circle. At this time, the captain, who had hitherto remained in his birth, came on deck, and, with a gay and unconcerned air, inquired what was the cause of the general dread. He said he thought we had already seen the worst of the weather, and wondered that his men had raised such a hubbub about a capful of wind. Mention being made of the Flying Dutchman, the captain laughed. He said, "he would like very much to see any vessel carrying top-gallant sails in such a night, for it would be a sight worth looking at." The chaplain, taking him by one of the buttons of his coat, drew him aside, and appeared to enter into serious conversation with him. While they were talking together, the captain was heard to say, "Let us look to our own ship, and not mind such things;" and accordingly, he sent a man aloft, to see if all was right about the foretop-sail yard, which was chafing the mast with a loud noise. It was Tom Willis who went up; and when he came down, he said that all was tight, and that he hoped it would soon get clearer; and that they would see no more of what they were most afraid of. The captain and first mate were heard laughing loudly together, while the chaplain observed, that it would be better to repress such unseasonable gaiety. The second mate, a native of Scotland, whose name was Duncan Saunderson, having attended one of the University classes at Aberdeen, thought himself too wise to believe all that the sailors said, and took part with the captain. He jestingly told Tom Willis, to borrow his grandam's spectacles the next time he was sent to keep a look-out a-head. Tom walked sulkily away, muttering, that he would nevertheless trust to his own eyes till morning, and accordingly took his station at the bow, and appeared to watch as attentively as before. The sound of talking soon ceased, for many returned to their births, and we heard nothing but the clanking of the ropes upon the masts, and the bursting of the billows ahead, as the vessel successively took the seas. But after a considerable interval of darkness, gleams of lightning began to re-appear. Tom Willis suddenly called out, "Vanderdecken, again! Vanderdecken, again! I see them letting down a boat." |