pretty well accustomed to the atmosphere of a ship, we began to
consider ourselves at home, and to give balls and other public
entertainments through the fleet. One of these I shall take leave
to describe, because I am sure it must interest from its novelty.
On the 19th of July, at an early hour in the morning, a signal
was made from the Royal Oak, that the Admiral would be happy to
see the officers of the fleet on board his ship that evening.
Boats were accordingly sent off from the different vessels,
loaded with visitors; and on mounting the gangway, a stage, with
a green curtain before it, was discovered upon the quarter-deck.
The whole of the deck, from the poop to the mainmast, was hung
round with flags, so as to form a moderate-sized theatre; and the
carronades were removed from their port-holes, in order to make
room for the company. Lamps were suspended from all parts of the
rigging and shrouds, casting a brilliant light upon this singular
playhouse; and the crew, arrayed in their best attire, crowded
the booms, yards, and fore part of the deck; whilst the space
from the mainmast to the foot of the stage was set with benches
for the more genteel part of the audience.

At seven o'clock the curtain drew up, and discovered a scene
painted with such taste as would not have disgraced any theatre
in London. The play was the 'Apprentice,' with the 'Mayor of
Garret' as an afterpiece, performed by the officers of the ship
and of the artillery, and went off in high style, applauded, as
it deserved to be applauded, with the loudest acclamations. The
quarter-deck of a British line-of-battle ship has often enough
been a stage for the exhibition of bloody tragedies; but to
witness a comedy and a farce upon that stage, and in the middle
of the Atlantic Ocean, was delightful from its very singularity.