“Well, d’ye see, about half an hour afterwards we began to engage; but there were cowards in the fleet, rank cowards, and the admiral wasn’t properly supported; so the old Sandwich bore the brunt of the battle, and hot enough it was, too; many a poor fellow dropt his peak and bore up, and as is customary, were directly launched out at the port. At last, poor Joe received a mortal wound that stretched him on the deck. We lifted him up in our arms to carry him to the surgeons in the cock-pit; but he opened his eyes, tried to speak, then gave one convulsive shudder as the last death-pang parted soul and body, and his mortal agonies were over. We stood for the port to give him a sailor’s grave; when, just at this moment, his wife appeared close to us. She had suffered all the tortures of suspense, till apprehension and anxiety for her husband’s safety overcame every fear, and she stood at our sides. The body was half out, and perhaps she would not have recognised it but for her own handkerchief, which she had tied round his neck. We all looked at each other, and then at her, undetermined what to do. She stopped for an instant, and gazed at the face of her husband, as if trying to trace the features; her eye caught the token on his breast; she sprung forward,—but ’twas too late—the body of poor Joe was already in the ocean-wave.
“A wild and piercing shriek followed. She ran to the spot, and would have shared his grave, but was forcibly withheld. She looked at the dark waters, and then tried to catch a view through the thick smoke at the enemy’s fleet. It cleared a little; she saw the French ships to leeward, and her spirit seemed to rise above the noise and din of battle. The roaring of the guns, the rattling of the tackles, and the flashes of the powder,—above all, a feeling of revenge, instead of crushing her delicate frame, appeared to change every operation of her heart. She watched us for some time, and no entreaty could prevail on her to go below; till, at last, she inquired what was her husband’s particular station; and having ascertained it, she instantly supplied his place, and, with undaunted determination, bravely continued to fight at the same gun during the remainder of the action. Nor was this all; for, with the tenderness of a female bosom, she sat up with the wounded, attended to their wants, soothed their complainings, and tried to forget her own sorrows by relieving theirs. The brave Rodney, you may depend upon it, didn’t forget her; and I heard that he obtained a handsome pension to support her.
“There was Mrs. R—, the captain’s wife of the L—— frigate; though for the matter o’that, she was captain, although only rated as mate. Ah, that was an Irish ship; captain Irish,—officers Irish,—men Irish; the ship’s name ought to have been Pat. She dearly loved her lads,—her boys, as she called them,—particularly Mr. O’Shaughnessy, the first-lieutenant, though the midshipmen knew pretty well how to get the weather-gage of her, especially when their case was in a pitiable condition, ‘showing a beggarly account of empty bottles.’ She was a lady, every inch of her, and used to come round the mess-deck morning, noon, and night, to see that all hands were comfortable and happy. If any body wanted liberty, it was only spinning a yarn to the petticoat captain, and they had it directly. Well, d’ye see, we had orders to sail; and so, to the great grief of all hands, Mrs. R. was obliged to leave us, with a heavy heart and a sorrowful countenance. ‘But never mind, boys,’ says she; ‘may be you’ll come back some day; and then, oh!—good bye to you, my boys, and stand by your captain to the last, like Erin’s own sons. Remember, Irishmen must never lose their laurel!’ And so we gave her three cheers as she went over the side.
“Well, after several months’ absence on a long cruise, we once more reached Spithead, and in a day or two a pretty little yacht came working in from St. Helen’s to the anchorage. The officers got their glasses, and word was soon passed that our friend Mrs. R. was on board of her. All hands crowded on deck,—not an officer or man remained below. The captain took his station on the quarter-deck abaft, the officers, especially the midshipmen, were more in advance, while at the gangway stood the old master-at-arms, Michael Malone.
“Mich was a perfect original,—neither sailor nor sodger,—but a strict disciplinarian, as all the boys in the ship could testify. He was, in fact, the very squint-essence of an Irishman. On nine hairs of his head was stuck a little trencher-like hat, with a roof not much bigger than half-a-crown. Behind projected a tail-piece that would have puzzled Hogarth. It was about nine inches long, and stretched out from the neck in a horrorzontal direction, like a tiller shipped the wrong way. His jacket, was of a sandy-gray-russet, embellished with ornamental designs of all colours and shapes. Huge pockets, well filled with rolls of paper, were prominent features, his trousers, (barring the breaches) well patched with corderoy, and his legs were sometimes cased in leather, that had formerly been a pair of military boots; but now, by continual cobbling, had lost their prime-itive shape and looked like a couple of fire-buckets. His countenance was open; for he had a marvellous mouth, that stretched as wide as a turnpike-gate; and his nose hung dangling down, as if to see that nothing passed through without paying toll. But for his eyes, he had a pair of odd ones, that gave you the most agreeable squint in the world, and made him see two ways at once. Many a poor boy has got thrashed for quizzing him, thinking he was looking another way.
“Well there old Mich stood, adjusting his cravat with the utmost gravity, when Mrs. R—— came over the side. Of course every body expected she would have walked aft to the captain; but her delight was so great, that she no sooner got upon the deck than she caught old Mich (being nearest) round the neck, and began kissing him like fury. Mich, equally pleased, returned her embrace with interest, to the great amusement of every soul, fore-and-aft. ‘Oh, my boys,—my boys,’ says she, as soon as Mich let her get breath; ‘joy to the hour that I see you again! Arrah! R—— dear, sure, and I’m so happy!’—So catching the captain in her arms, she gave full evidence of the fact.
“The officers wiped their mouths and smacked their lips, expecting it would go round, and were anticipating the salute of her sweet kiss, for she was really a beautiful woman; but they were disappointed; for the first moment of exquisite feeling having subsided, she became sensible of what had passed. Howsomever, the captain laughed heartily, and old Mich looked as if he was ready for a second edition. Mrs. R—— called him and apologized for her conduct, blushing all the time most glowingly. ‘Och!’ says she, ‘my joy was so great that I couldn’t help it!’
“‘Be aisey, my lady, be aisey,’ says Mich: ‘I’d do the same for your ladyship any day, and every day. Sure didn’t I have the best of it, then? Faith, and I did, any how; for I gave you two for one. Oh, don’t mention it, my lady.’
“Well, and all hands had an extra allowance of grog, and Mich declared that ’twas the happiest day of his life; for her ladyship’s two-lips were like full-blown roses, moistened with dews; and but for his ugly nose, that came in the way, he would have had half a dozen more.”