f so be you can
take me to them parts, when I'm big enough I'll go with ye."

"Well, we'll see about it," said I, with a patronising air; "but it is
not all gold-picking, remember. There's plenty of fighting and
prize-taking besides. You've heard speak of Admiral Hawke?"

"No," said Tommy, "I ne'er did."

"I'd have given my right hand to have been with him when he beat the
French in Quiberon Bay. That was a glorious day for old England, let me
tell you." I was able to expatiate on the subject, as the last time I
was at home my father read me a full account of the battle which took
place in 1759, the year preceding the death of his Majesty George the
Second, and about five years before the time of which I am now speaking.
It was the most memorable action of my early days. The French fleet
was commanded by Monsieur de Conflans, whom a short time before a
violent gale had compelled to take shelter in Brest harbour, while the
English had anchored in Torbay. The two fleets were about equal. After
cruising for some time the enemy again took shelter in Quiberon Bay, on
the coast of Bretagne, in France, where they were pursued by the
English. A strong gale had sprung up and a heavy sea was running, but,
undaunted, the brave Hawke stood on. The Frenchmen hoped to lead his
fleet to destruction among the rocks and shoals of that dangerous coast.
Unwilling to fight, yet too late to escape, the French admiral, when he
saw the English approach, was compelled to make sail. Hawke pursued
them and ordered his pilots to lay him alongside the Soleil Royal, which
bore the flag of the French admiral. The Thesee, a seventy-four-gun
ship, ran between them, and a heavy sea entering her ports, she
foundered. The Superbe, another Frenchman, shared the same fate.
Several other French ships struck their colours; many were driven on
shore, among which was the flag-ship, which was set on fire and
destroyed. A great number of the French were killed, but the English
lost only one lieutenant and thirty-nine men killed, and about two
hundred wounded. But I must not stop to describe the gallant actions
which occurred during my boyhood. Lord Anson, one of the most
experienced of navigators, died two years only before I went to sea.
Captain Byron sailed that same memorable year, when my country first had
the benefit of my services, on his voyage of discovery into the pacific,
and returned in 1766. Captains Wallis and Carteret sailed on ex