"My life, please your honour," replied the weather-beaten tar, "has been a chequered life. I was born at Horningsham, a small village in Wiltshire. My father had three children. He was very religious, and so was my mother. They taught us to read the Bible and to pray, and took us to chapel every Sunday. But I was always a wildish lad, and so was brother George, who was a year younger than I. One night, when we were about seventeen years old, we set off, unknown to father or mother, to go to sea. We walked all night, and all the next day, till we got to Botley, between Southampton and Tichfield, where we stopped for some refreshment, and to rest ourselves. The next day we were joined by three soldiers, who said they would take us across the fields to Gosport; but when they got us into a lonely place, they robbed us of our watches and all our money. This was the beginning of our sorrows, and we began to repent of our folly; but we did not like to go back home. As we were walking up and down a street in Portsmouth, a gentleman came and asked us if we should like to go to sea. I replied I would like nothing better. He gave us five shillings each, provided a lodging for us, and the next morning we went on board ship. We often wished ourselves at home, but it was no use; so, after sending a letter to father, to let him know what was become of us, we set sail. After cruizing about the channel for some months, we fell in with the Dutch off Camperdown. This was the first battle I ever fought; and it was a desperate one. Many a stream of English blood flowed that day; and, just as we were hailing victory, a spent shot struck my poor brother George (his voice faltering as he spoke), who was standing by my side; he fell; we carried him down to the cockpit, when he took me by the hand, and said, '_Farewell, brother! I am dying_. _Give my love to mother, and father, and sister, and tell them that I die in the arms of victory._' He scarcely finished the words before he heaved a dismal groan, and died. The shouts of victory gave me no pleasure; for I had lost my brother. Poor fellow, he was thrown overboard the same day; and many a tear was shed, Sir, as we let him down, for he was much liked by the crew." "What ship," said Mr. Stevens, "were you on board of?" "The _Venerable_, please your honour; Admiral Duncan's ship." "Did you know Covey, who was wounded in that engagement?" "Yes, please your honour; I was on deck when he fell. He was as brave a fellow as ever fought; and he was as generous as he was brave." "But was he not very wicked?" "He was a good sailor, please your honour, and he was generous to a proverb; but he had no sense of religion, though at times, I believe, he suffered much in his conscience." "Do you know what became of him?" "I have heard that he was sent to Haslar hospital after he left the _Venerable_, and I suppose he died there; and there, I suppose, he was buried. God rest his soul!"