at hand;
others were taken to bed by Peter Anderson and Ben; and at last there
were but four or five left. One of these was the other boatswain's mate
of the ward: I knew very little of him at that time, except that his
name was James Turner. He was a very quiet well-behaved man, and seemed
to be more fond of sitting or walking alone than of being in company;
never was known to drink too much; and, indeed, as boatswain's mate, was
more relied upon by Anderson than even Ben was--although, perhaps, Ben
was his more constant companion. The conversation relative to the
particulars of the battle of the Nile was resumed, and Anderson
observed--

"What an awful sight it must have been to behold the blowing up of the
L'Orient French three-decker, with upwards of a thousand men on board!
Merciful Heaven! so many poor fellows launched into eternity in one
moment! They say there were but seventy-three saved."

"There were nearly as many souls lost when the Royal George went down at
Spithead, with all the fleet at anchor round about her," replied Ben;
"were there not, Turner, for you were on board of her?"

"Yes, I should think there were," replied Turner; "but it is impossible
to say how many people were on board at the time."

"Messmate," said Anderson, "as all the noisy ones are gone, and we shall
be able to hear you, suppose that you let us know all about it? I have
heard a good deal, but, I suspect, not the rights of it."

"With all my heart," replied Turner. "It was a sad affair, and was all
owing to the pride of an officer, who was not much of a sailor, at all
events."

I drew nearer, that I might not lose a word of what Turner said; and
then he narrated, in the following words:--

THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE.

"Well, messmates, the Royal George was a hundred-gun ship; and what we
don't often see now, when I first belonged to her, her guns were all
brass. We had brass twenty-four-pounders on our quarterdeck,
forecastle, poop, and main deck, brass thirty-twos on our middle deck,
and brass forty-two-pounders on our lower deck. In the spring of '82,
when we were at Plymouth (about six months before she sunk), it was
considered that the brass forty-twos on the lower deck were too heavy
for her, so they were put on shore, and we had iron thirty-twos instead.
I don't think, myself, it made much difference in the weight of metal,
and we were sorry to part with them. We were a flag-ship, you know,--
old Kempenfe