ion by a
neighbouring gun-boat, whose crew were no doubt as hungry as ourselves;
they got hold of one of our men, who, like a fool, let the cat out of
the bag, when a pint of grog got into it. The fellow hinted where the
other half lay, and these _unprincipled rascals_ went after it, fully
resolved to appropriate it to themselves; but they were outwitted, as
they deserved to be for their roguery. The farmer to whom the calf
belonged had got a hint of what was done, and finding that we had buried
one half of the calf, procured a party of soldiers ready to take
possession of us when we should come to fetch it away; accordingly, the
party who went from the other gun-boat after dark, having found out the
spot, were very busy disinterring their prey, when they were surprised,
taken prisoners, and marched away to the British camp, leaving the body
behind.

We, quite unconscious of what was done, came soon after, found our veal,
and marched off with it. The prisoners were in the meantime sent on
board the flag-ship, with the charge of robbery strongly preferred
against them; indeed, _flagrante delicto_ was proved. In vain they
protested that they were not the slayers, but only went in search of
what others had killed: the admiral, who was a kind-hearted man, said
that that was a very good story, but desired them "not to tell lies to
old rogues," and ordered them all under arrest, at the same time giving
directions for a most rigid scrutiny into the larder of the other
gun-boat, with a view, if possible, to discover the remains of the calf.
This we had foreseen would happen, so we put it into one of the
sailor's bags, and sank it with a lead-line in three fathoms of water,
where it lay till the inspection was over, when we dressed it, and made
an excellent dinner, drinking success to His Majesty's arms by land and
sea.

Whether I had been intemperate in food or libation I know not, but I was
attacked with the Walcheren fever, and was sent home in a line-of-battle
ship; and, perhaps, as Pangloss says, it was all for the best; for I
knew I could not have left off my inveterate habits, and it would have
been very inconvenient to me, and distressing to my friends, to have
ended my brilliant career, and stopped these memoirs, at the beginning
of the second and most interesting volume, by hanging the Author up,
like a scarecrow, under the superintendence of the rascally
provost-marshal, merely for catering on the land of a Walc