Monson was of a good Lincolnshire family, and at an early age entered Baliol College, Oxford, where he remained a couple of years, till the excitement of the war with Spain determined him to run away to sea, as he did not expect to get the consent of his parents. At this date, 1585, he was only sixteen years of age. “I put myself,” says he, “into an action by sea, where there was in company of us two small ships, fitted for men-of-war, that authorised us by commission to seize upon the subjects of the King of Spain; then made I the sea my profession, being led to it by the wildness of my youth.” He had not long to wait for adventure. “A strong and obstinate ship of Holland” was encountered, whose captain had the audacity not to strike his flag immediately, when required to do so. The Dutch vessel had an English pilot on board, through whom communication was held; and the master of the privateer, by a ruse of navigation, ordering his helmsman in a loud voice to port his helm, while in an undertone he instructed him to do just the reverse, nearly fouled the Dutchman, whose men got out oars and fenders to prevent the impending collision. “When we saw their people thus employed,” says Monson,(3) “and not to have time to take arms, we suddenly boarded, entered, and took her by this stratagem.” Monson, when an old man, used to chuckle over his boyish share in this exploit, and includes it among “stratagems to be used at sea” in his “Tracts.” But he was to have speedily a better opportunity of distinguishing himself. The privateer on which he served—for she was nothing more—encountered a large Biscayan ship off the Spanish coast, whose captain refused to strike. A few of the English crew, including Monson, managed to board her, when the sea suddenly rose, and this mere handful were left on the Spaniard’s decks, while the privateer was compelled to ungrapple. The storm increased, and it was not possible to succour the little band, who fought for _eleven_ hours, from eight o’clock in the evening to seven the next morning. The Spaniards attempted to blow up the deck which they maintained, but “were prevented by fire-pikes,” and at last surrendered after a desperate contest. The decks were covered with the dead and dying. “I dare say,” says the narrator of the event, “that in the whole time of the war there was not so rare a manner of fight, or so great a slaughter of men.” Monson, who had now received his “baptism of fire” with a vengeance, determined that nothing should take him from his adopted profession, and it is presumable that his friends became reconciled to it, for we find him suddenly raised, at one step, from the grade of a volunteer to the rank of captain, although but eighteen years old! Family influence, doubtless, had something to do with it. Gentlemen captains, who were often brave men, but who knew little enough about naval affairs, were common in those days. Raleigh distinguishes them very