By _JOHN ATKINS_, Surgeon in the ROYAL NAVY. _Illi Robur & Æs triplex Circa Pectus erat, qui fragilem truci Commisit Pelago Ratem Primus_—— HORAT. [Illustration: (ship under sail)] _LONDON_; Printed for CÆSAR WARD and RICHARD CHANDLER, at the _Ship_, between the _Temple-Gates_ in _Fleet-Street_; And Sold at their Shop in SCARBOROUGH. M.DCC.XXXV. [Illustration: (decorative banner)] PREFACE The Publishing of this Voyage, is from a Supposition that it contains something useful to those following in the same Track, and that it will be no unprofitable Amusement to others who do not. I shall therefore wave all Apology, and instead, proceed to a Reflection or two, on the Life and Element we occupy. And _first_, The Man whose Means of Subsistence irreversibly depends on the Sea, is unhappy because he forsakes his proper Element, his Wife, Children, Country, and Friends, all that can be called pleasant (and of Necessity, not Choice) to tempt unknown Dangers, on that deceitful, trackless Path; Lee Shores, Tempests, Wants of some kind or other, bad Winds, or the rougher Passions of our selves, are continually molesting; and if common Danger under one adopted Parent (_Neptune_) does not always unite us, yet we are still cooped like Fowls, to the same Diet and Associates. “_Till chang’d at length and to the Place conform’d_ _In Temper and in Nature we receive_ _Familiar the fierce Heat._” Milton. B. II. Tophet[1] _with Stink of_ Suffolk _Vaporous Obscures the Glim; that visive and olfactive Nerves In us feel dreadful Change._ And to compleat our ill Luck, while we are thus contending with sinister Fate, the Rogues at home perhaps are stealing away the Hearts of our Mistresses and Wives. Are not these a hapless Race thus doomed!