The mutiny just described sinks into insignificance before that which is about to be recounted, the greatest mutiny of English history—that of the Nore. At that one point no less than 40,000 men were concerned, while the disaffection spread to many other stations, some of them far abroad. There can be little doubt that prior to 1797, the year of the event, our sailors had laboured under many grievances, while the navy was full of “pressed” men, a portion of whom were sure to retain a thorough dislike to the service, although so many fought and died bravely for their country. Some of the grievances which the navy suffered were probably the result of careless and negligent legislation, rather than of deliberate injustice, but they were none the less galling on that account. The pay of the sailor had remained unchanged from the reign of Charles II., although the prices of the necessaries and common luxuries of life had greatly risen. His pension had also remained at a stationary rate; that of the soldier had been augmented. On the score of provisions he was worse off than an ordinary pauper. He was in the hands of the purser, whose usual title at that time indicates his unpopularity: he was termed “Nipcheese.” The provisions served were of the worst quality; fourteen instead of sixteen ounces went to the navy pound. The purser of those days was taken from an inferior class of men, and often obtained his position by influence, rather than merit. He generally retired on a competency after a life of deliberate dishonesty towards the defenders of his country, who, had they received everything to which they were entitled, would not have been too well treated, and, as it was, were cheated and robbed, without scruple and without limit. The reader will recall the many naval novels, in which poor Jack’s daily allowance of grog was curtailed by the purveyor’s thumb being put in the pannikin: this was the least of the evils he suffered. In those war times the discipline of the service was specially rigid and severe, and most of this was doubtless necessary. Men were not readily obtained in sufficient numbers; consequently, when in harbour, leave ashore was very constantly refused, for fear of desertions. These and a variety of other grievances, real or fancied, nearly upset the equilibrium of our entire navy. It is not too much to say that not merely England’s naval supremacy was for a time in the greatest jeopardy through the disaffection of the men, but that our national existence, almost—and most certainly our existence as a first-class power—was alarmingly threatened, the cause being nothing more nor less than a very general spirit of mutiny. To do the sailors justice, they sought at first to obtain fair play by all legitimate means in their power. It must be noted, also, that a large number of our best officers knew that there was very general discontent. Furthermore, it was well known on shore that numerous secret societies