When in full uniform, a sailor in the Royal Navy was a sight to see—with his pig-tail properly clubbed and tied with black silk. We have already seen them in the picture of Nelson’s funeral car, and the accompanying illustration is of the same epoch, and shows a British sailor weeping over Lord Nelson’s death. It was a rough school, both for officers and men. We may judge somewhat of what the life of the former was like by Captain Marryat’s novels; but, lest they should be highly coloured, let us take a few lines from the first page of the “Memoir of Admiral Sir Edward Codrington”:[73] [Illustration: BRITISH SAILOR—1805.] “He spent nine years at sea as a midshipman; and I have repeatedly heard him say, that during those nine years (so important for the formation of character) he never was invited to open a book, nor received a word of advice or instruction, except professional, from any one. More than that, he was thrown among a set in the gun-room mess, older than himself, whose amusement it was—a too customary amusement in those days—to teach the lad to drink, and to lead him into their own habitual practice in that respect.” If this was the case with the officers, how did the men fare? Volunteer recruits did not come from the pick of the labouring class, and the pressed men soon fell into the ways of those surrounding them. No doubt they were better off in the Royal Navy than in the Mercantile Marine; but the ship’s stores of that day consisted but of salt pork, and beef, the latter being indifferently called _junk_ or _old horse_. The biscuits, too, were nothing like those now supplied on board Her Majesty’s ships. Wheat was very dear, and these sailors did not get the best of that. Inferior corn, bad package, and old age soon generated weevils, and the biscuit, when these were knocked out, was often but an empty shell. Bullied by their officers, and brutally flogged and punished for trifling faults, Jack’s life could not have been a pleasant one; and we can hardly wonder that he often deserted, and sometimes mutinied. Yet, whenever a fight was imminent, or did actually occur, all bad treatment was banished from his mind, and he fought like a Briton. And there were many ships to man. Not only were all our dockyards hard at work building and repairing, but prizes were continually coming in; and the French men-of-war were better designed than ours—in fact, it may be said that we learned, at that time, our Naval Architecture from the prizes we took. In October, 1804, there were in commission 103 ships of the line, 24 fifty-gun vessels, 135 frigates, and 398 sloops—total 660. In March, 1806, there were 721 ships in commission, of which 128 were of the line. On January 1, 1808, there were 795 in commission, 144 being ships of the line. Many of these were taken from the French, as the following exultant paragraph from the _Annual Register_, August 19, 1808, will show: