Of all the craft that ever swam upon salt-water give me the dashing forty-four gun frigate, with a ship's company of dare-devils who would board his Satanic Majesty's kitchen in the midst of cooking-time, if they could only get a gallant spirit to lead them. And pray, what would a ship's company be without leaders? for, after all, it is the officers that make the men what they are; so that, when I see a well-rigged man-o'-war, in which discipline is preserved without unnecessary punishment or toil, that's the hooker for me; and such was his Britannic Majesty's frigate, "the saucy, thrash-'em-all SPANKAWAY," for by that title was she known from Yarmouth Roads to the Land's End. Oh, she was a lovely creature! almost a thing of life! and it would be outraging the principles of beauty to give her any other than a female designation. Everybody has been in love some time or other in the course of his existence, and the object of affection was no doubt an angel in the eyes of the ardent lover:--just so was the frigate to me--an angel; for she had wings, and her movements were regulated by the breath of heaven. She was the very standard of loveliness, the most exquisite of graceful forms. At anchor she sat upon the water with all the elegance and ease of the cygnet, or like a queen reclining on her downy couch. Under weigh she resembled the pretty pintado bird skimming the billow tops, or the fleet dolphin darting from wave to wave. Then to see her climb the rolling swell, or cleave the rising foam, baptising her children with the spray, and naming them her seamen--Oh, it was a spectacle worth a life to witness! And who was her captain? the intrepid Lord Eustace Dash; a man more ennobled by his acts than by the courtesy which conferred his title; one who loved the women, hated the French, and had a constitutional liking for the rattling reports of a long-eighteen. His first lieutenant, Mr. Seymour, knew his duty, and performed it. The second lieutenant, Mr. Sinnitt, followed the example of his senior. The third lieutenant, Mr. Nugent, obeyed orders, touched the guitar, and was extremely anxious to become an author. Then there was Mr. Scalpel, the surgeon; Mr. Squeez'em, the purser; and Mr. Parallel, the master; with the two marine officers, Plumstone and Peabody. Such were the _élite_ of the frigate; but it would be unpardonable--a sort of sea-sacrilege--not to notice Mr. Savage, the boatswain; Mr. Blueblazes, the gunner; and Mr. Bracebit, the carpenter, all good men and true, who had come in at the hawse-holes, and served through the various gradations till they mounted the anchor-button on their long-tailed coats. As for the mates, midshipmen, and assistant-surgeons, there was a very fair sprinkling,--the demons of the orlop, each with his nickname. Her crew--but we will speak of them presently.