“Arter all,” exclaimed the old boatswain’s-mate, “them there were spirit-stirring times; but the Neapolitans and Italians were scarcely worth fighting for. I was aboard the ould Culloden, 74, along with Troubridge up the Mediterranean; and one day a boat comes along-side and up mounts a Neapolitan officer, his rigging dressed out in gold lace and stars, so that he looked like a man-cake of gilt gingerbread. So he goes aft into the cabin, and tells the captain the Neapolitan troops were going to attack the French in a small fortified town on the coast, and Captain Troubridge being commodore, he had made bould to ax him for one of the sloop-of-war brigs to cannonade ’em by sea whilst the sodgers stormed ’em by land; and he talked so big of the bravery of his men, that it was enough to make a fellow believe that they cared no more for a bagonet than they did for a sail-needle, and no more for a two-and-thirty pound shot than they did for a ball of spun-yarn, and it puzzled me to think how the captain could hoist it all in; for he bowed very politely, and told the officer ‘he made no doubt that they would eat all they killed;’ and the officer bowed again almost to the deck, and he kept bending and bending like a ship heeling over to sudden gusts from the land. Howsomever, the skipper grants him the eighteen-gun brig, and then they began to overhaul a goodish deal about the plan of attack; and the Neapolitan observed, that if the captain would let ’em have a frigate instead of the brig, it would be much better and must ensure success. So the captain, very good-humouredly, countermands the order for the brig, and makes the signal for the captain of one of the frigates; and then they conversed together again, and the Count--they called him a Count, but Lord love you! he wouldn’t count for nothing among British sodgers:--I say, the Count danced about the cabin as if he was charging the French garrison, and cutting ’em up into four-pound pieces. Well, ashore he goes, and the frigate’s signal was made to unmoor and prepare for sea; when aboard comes the Count again to say the commander-in-chief requested a line-of-battle ship might be sent instead of the frigate, as it would place the victory beyond a doubt, and after some backing and filling about the matter, Troubridge consented, and the brig was ordered to get under way and direct one of the seventy-fours outside to proceed to the place appointed. So away goes the Count, though it was plain to see the skipper warn’t over and above pleased with the shuffling; but still he hoped the French would be beat, and ill as he could spare the seventy-four, the sloop was soon walking away under her canvass and had got to some distance; when alongside comes the Count again and goes into the cabin; but he hadn’t been long there before out he comes again holus-bolus through the door-way, and the skipper in his wake with a face like scarlet, kicking the Count under his counter and