And here it should be remembered how different in many respects is the position of the modern British sailor--true Briton as he still is, and is proving himself to be at Alexandria even whilst I write these lines--from the traditional sailor of Boscawen's days. Now, most of the sailors' work in our steam iron-clads is done on deck or below; but, at the period of which we are about to consider some episodes, the larger proportion--certainly the more difficult--was performed aloft. In weather of all sorts 'there were dead-eyes to turn in, there were chafing gear to look after, reef-points to knot, masts to stay, studding-sail gear to reeve, and the like.' Then the wild excitement of going aloft to shorten sail in stormy weather! The old songs at the reef-tackles, the flapping of the canvas, the springing into the shrouds, and the helter-skelter race for the weather-earing--unless, indeed, the iron-hard pressure of the gale pinned you against the shrouds as if you had been a spread-eagle. In work of this sort the English tars were always pre-eminent, and one can easily believe that the Admiral accordingly had a thoroughly hearty contempt for the unsailor-like character of the French crews. Of one he said he 'never saw so bad a crew on salt water before; there were not twenty men on board who could go aloft.'[89] Those, too, were days not only of rough work, but also of rough-and-ready fighting; and Boscawen's motto, like that of Hawke,[90] his illustrious contemporary and rival, was always, 'Strike.' One night Boscawen's lieutenant came to him, and awoke him, saying that they had fallen in with three ships of the enemy. 'What shall we do?' 'Why, fight 'em, to be sure!' said Boscawen; and, dashing up on deck in his night shirt, he soon compelled the enemy to sheer off. It was from this action that he is said to have acquired the name of Old Dreadnought. On another occasion he took off his wig, and with it stopped a leak in his boat, which was rapidly sinking.