cannon to destroy the noblest, the fairest, and best in their
own land, and to attack any people who might differ from them in
opinion.

War had already broken out with Great Britain. The people of Old
England were girding their loins for that gigantic struggle, when nearly
all the powers of Europe were leagued with those enemies who strove to
overwhelm her. Right noble was the struggle, and right brave and
gallant were the soldiers and sailors who then fought for the safety and
honour of their well-loved country. Busy preparations were going
forward. All classes were exerting themselves, from the highest to the
lowest. Ministers were planning and ordering, soldiers were drilling,
ships were fitting out in every harbour.

Grass did not grow in the streets of Portsmouth in those days. A large
party of seamen were proceeding down the High Street of that far-famed
naval port one bright day in summer. There came first undoubted
men-of-war's men, by their fearless bearing and independent air
betokening a full consciousness of their value; a young and thorough
sailor boy, stout, broad-shouldered, with a fair though somewhat
sunburnt complexion, a row of teeth capable of grinding the hardest of
biscuit, and a fine large joyous eye and pleasant mouth, exhibiting
abundance of good humour and good nature, yet at the same time firmness
and decision.

The seamen stopped not far from the Southsea Gate, opposite a large
placard, on which it was announced that the thirty-six-gun frigate
_Ruby_ was fitting for sea with all possible despatch, and that she had
lately been commissioned by a young enterprising commander, Captain
Garland, and was in want of first-rate able seamen, as well as other
hands, to whom no end of fighting, prize-money, liberty, and fun of
every description was promised. The offers and promises thus liberally
made were very similar to those put forth in the same way when other
ships were fitting out; and seamen had already learned to look more to
the character of the ship and captain than to any other inducements held
out to them.

"That will just suit us, Paul," said one of the men after they had
carefully spelt over the paper, not without some trouble.

"I'm thinking it will, Abel. But I say, mate, I wonder if Captain
Garland is the youngster we had aboard the old _Terrible_?" answered
Paul Pringle, for he was the person addressed. "He was a fine little
chap then. Can he have grown into a Post-Cap