IT WAS the fashion then, as it is now, to portray a sailor, as a harum-scarum, jovial, rollicking, care-for-nought; and doubtless, in the main, he was, at that time, as unlike as possible to the blue-riband, savings-bank Jack that he very frequently is now. Prize money was pretty plentiful; such things as a temperance captain and ship, were unknown; and the constant active service in which they were engaged, with its concomitant insecurity to life and limb, must have made them somewhat reckless, and inclined to enjoy life, after their fashion, whilst they still possessed that life. Rowlandson—May 30, 1802—drew two of them in a caricature, called “The Sailor’s Journal.” They are dividing a bowl of punch, one is smoking, the other gives his mate some extracts from his Journal: “Entered the port of London. Steered to Nan’s lodgings, and unshipped my Cargo; Nan admired the shiners—so did the landlord—gave ‘em a handful apiece; emptied a bottle of the right sort with the landlord to the health of his honour Lord Nelson. All three set sail for the play; got a berth in a cabin on the larboard side—wanted to smoke a pipe, but the boatswain wouldn’t let me; remember to rig out Nan like the fine folks in the cabin right ahead. Saw Tom Junk aloft in the corner of the upper deck—hailed him; the signal returned. Some of the land-lubbers in the cockpit began to laugh—tipped them a little foremast lingo till they sheered off. Emptied the grog bottle; fell fast asleep—dreamt of the battle of Camperdown. My landlord told me the play was over—glad of it. Crowded sail for a hackney coach. Squally weather—rather inclined to be sea-sick. Gave the pilot a two pound-note, and told him not to mind the change. In the morning, looked over my Rhino—a great deal of it, to be sure; but I hope, with the help of a few friends, to spend every shilling in a little time, to the honour and glory of old England.” This was the ideal, and typical, sailor; the reality was sometimes as foolish. _Morning Herald_, June 12, 1805: “One day last week a sailor belonging to a man-of-war at Plymouth had leave to go on shore; but, having staid much longer than the allowed time, he received a sharp reprimand on his return. Jack’s reply was that he was very sorry, but that he had taken a _dilly_ (a kind of chaise used about Plymouth) for the purpose of making the utmost haste, but the coachman could not give him change for half a guinea, and he, therefore, was obliged to keep him driving _fore_ and _aft_ between Plymouth and the Dock, till he had _drove_ the half-guinea out! Unfortunately for poor Jack, it so happened, that when the half-guinea was _drove out_, he was set down at the spot whence he started, and had just as far to walk, as though he had not been drove at all.”