wet and hang or spread their clothes to dry, the captain "thros them
overboard." The _Nassau's_ company find it impossible to put the
abuse they receive on paper. It is "above Humanity." Though put on
board to fight for king and country, they are used worse than dogs.
They have no encouragement to "face the Enemy with a chearful Heart."
Besides being kept "more like Convicts than free-born Britons," the
_Nymph's_ company have an unspeakable grievance. "When Engaged
with the Enemy off Brest, March the 9th, 1797, they even Beat us at
our Quarters, though on the Verge of Eternity." [Footnote:
_Admiralty Records_ 1. 5l25--Petitions, 1793-7.]

On the principle advanced by Rochefoucault, that there is something
not displeasing to us in the misfortunes of our friends, the sailor
doubtless derived a sort of negative satisfaction from the fact that
he was not the only one on shipboard liable to the pains and penalties
of irascibility, brutality and excessive disciplinary zeal.
Particularly was this true of his special friend the "sky-pilot" or
chaplain, that super-person who perhaps most often fell a victim to
quarter-deck ebullitions. Notably there is on record the case of one
John Cruickshank, chaplain of H.M.S. _Assurance,_ who was clapped
in irons, court-martialled and dismissed the service merely because he
happened to take--what no sailor could ever condemn him for-a drop too
much, and whilst in that condition insisted on preaching to the ship's
company when they were on the very point of going into action.
[Footnote: _Admiralty Records_ 1. 5265--Courts-Martial, 1704-5.
His zeal was unusual. Most naval chaplains thought "of nothing more
than making His Majesty's ships sinecures"] There is also that other
case of the "saucy Surgeon of the _Seahorse_" who incurred his
captain's dire displeasure all on account of candles, of which
necessary articles he, having his wife on board, thought himself