I have mentioned before, that during our meals we are surrounded by filthy ragged cabin-boys, whose appearance, contentions and impertinence, are intolerable. Among this crew of little blackguards, two were pointed out to me as the son and nephew of _Delcher_, who is one of the representatives from the Western Pyrenees to the convention. It is certain, that when I challenged the boys with it, they confirmed it to me, and seemed to glory in their situation. I was also shown a third boy, about eleven years old, who is the son of an _emigrated nobleman_. In him, nature is not quite subdued: “_Le petit-------- pleure quelquefois_,” said one of the lieutenants to me. I have forgotten to mention before, that on the day of our being brought on board the Marat, we were shown their furnace (which is the oven) for heating shot. It is well contrived, and the balls, by means of a pair of bellows, would soon be made red-hot; but I doubt not that “even-handed justice” will oftener render this dreadful implement of destruction, like “the ingredients of the poisoned chalice, rather the plague of the inventor,” than the destroyer of the objects of its vengeance. The motion of a ship at sea must, I apprehend, not only cause its effect to be very precarious, but its use very dangerous. Be this as it may, every thing here was prepared, the faggots were laid, and the shot were placed between them; and they assured us, that in the moment we had struck, they were just going to heat them for us: a confession which, considering the odds that we had fought against, was not very honourable to republican gallantry. All their ships of war, they told us, were provided with similar furnaces.