“Mr. Anson,” says the narrator of this eventful voyage, “was greatly chagrined at having such a decrepit attachment allotted to him; for he was fully persuaded that the greatest part of them would perish long before they arrived at the scene of action, since the delays he had already encountered necessarily confined his passage round Cape Horn to the most rigorous season of the year. Sir Charles Wager (one of the Lords of the Admiralty) too, joined in opinion with the Commodore, that the invalids were no way proper for this service, and solicited strenuously to have them exchanged; but he was told that persons who were supposed to be better judges than he or Mr. Anson, thought them the properest men that could be employed on this occasion.” All of the poor pensioners “who had limbs and strength to walk out of Portsmouth deserted, leaving behind them only such as were literally invalids.... Indeed, it is difficult to conceive a more moving scene than the embarkation of these unhappy veterans. They were themselves extremely averse to the service they were engaged on, and fully apprised of all the disasters they were afterwards exposed to, the apprehensions of which were strongly marked by the concern that appeared in their countenances, which were mixed with no small degree of indignation.” Nor can one read these facts without sharing the same feeling. Brave men who had spent the best of their youth and prime in the service of their country, were ruthlessly sent to certain death.