eir families into the navy, and after many
years of execrable treatment, hard fighting, and wounds, they landed
back into their homes broken men, with no better prospect than to
begin life anew. It was natural that the numerous pressed men should
detest the ruffianly man-catchers and their employers, if not the
service they were forced into, and that they would nurse the wrong
which had been done to them.

They would have opportunities of comparing their own lot with that of
other nationalities engaged in combat against them, and though both
might be bad, it comes quite natural to the sailor to imagine his
treatment is worse than that of others; and there is copious evidence
that the British naval service was not at that period popular.
Besides, they knew, as everybody else should have known, that Napoleon
was beloved by his navy and army alike. Then, after the Emperor had
asked for the hospitality of the British nation, and became its guest
aboard the _Bellerophon_, the sailors saw what manner of man he was.
And later, his voyage to St. Helena in the _Northumberland_ gave them
a better chance of being impressed by his fascinating personality. It
is well known how popular he became aboard both ships; the men of the
squadron that was kept at St. Helena were also drawn to him in
sympathy, and many of the accounts show how, in their rough ardent
way, they repudiated the falsehoods of his traducers. The exiled
Emperor had become _their_ hero and _their_ martyr, just as
impressively as he was and remained that of the French; and from them
and other sources were handed down to the generation of merchant
seamen those tales which were told with the usual love of hyperbole
characteristic of the sailor, and wiled away many dreary hours while
traversing trackless oceans. They would talk about the sea fights of
Aboukir and Trafalgar, and the battles of Arcola, Marengo, Jena,
Austerlitz, the Russian campaign, the retreat from Moscow, his
deportation to Elba, his escape therefrom, and his matchless march
into Paris, and then the great encounter of Waterloo, combined with
the divorce of Josephine and the marriage with Marie Louise; all of
which, as I remember it now, was set forth in the most voluble and
comical manner. Some of their most engaging chanties were composed
about him, and the airs given to them, always pathetic and touching,
were sung by the sailors in a way which showed that they wanted it to
be known that they had no h