At this period, four of our frigates, under Sir Graham Moore, were cruising off Cape St. Vincent to intercept the four Spanish frigates, loaded with treasure, expected home. We spoke our ships off there, and a few days afterwards they fell in with the Spaniards, took three, and the unfortunate fourth blew up in the action with all her crew. I always did think, and my opinion has never changed, that it was a cruel thing to send only four frigates to detain four others, when by increasing the force by two or three line-of-battle ships, this might have been effected without loss of blood, or honour to the Spaniards. If it was necessary to detain these vessels and treasure from political motives, in order to make the king of Spain declare his equivocal conduct, it would have been humane to have sent such a force as would have put resistance out of the question; for what man, who was not a traitor, could yield without fighting (and with such a valuable cargo on board), to a force, in all appearance, not greater than his own. It was an untoward event. After a long passage, we at length arrived at Spithead, the ship in a very leaky, weak state. Having landed the money, we left Portsmouth the end of October for Chatham, at which place the ship was paid off. Our old parson was a “rum” subject; after trying all other mess places, he got old Pipes, the boatswain, to take him into his. They agreed very well for a little time; but one unfortunate day, the evil genius of poor old Fritz prevailed, for Pipes coming down rather unexpectedly to his cabin in the fore cock-pit to get a glass of grog, having got wet when the hands were turned up reefing topsails, he found the parson helping himself rather too freely out of his liquor-case. This was a crime Mr. Boatswain could not put up with. A breach immediately ensued, and an instant dismissal from his berth took place, with the exclamation of, “The parson is such a black; I cannot allow him to mess with me any longer.” After this occurrence, the captain interfered, and he again messed in his proper place with the officers in the wardroom. And I recollect one Sunday morning before church-time, the old fellow came into our berth, and with his hand to his stomach, began: “Oh! my dear fellow, I feel so poorly, I do not know what to do, or how I shall get through the service.” “What is the matter, Mr. F.?” I enquired. “Oh! I feel such a pain.” I knew what he wanted, so I went to the locker, took out the rum bottle, and gave a good boatswain’s glass of grog (three parts spirits, and one water). He told me I had saved his life, and that now he could preach very well. “Come, sir,” said I, “take a north-wester to wash the other down,” which he did. The service commenced soon after, and he performed it admirably.