“A wild and piercing shriek followed. She ran to the spot, and would have shared his grave, but was forcibly withheld. She looked at the dark waters, and then tried to catch a view through the thick smoke at the enemy’s fleet. It cleared a little; she saw the French ships to leeward, and her spirit seemed to rise above the noise and din of battle. The roaring of the guns, the rattling of the tackles, and the flashes of the powder,--above all, a feeling of revenge, instead of crushing her delicate frame, appeared to change every operation of her heart. She watched us for some time, and no entreaty could prevail on her to go below; till, at last, she inquired what was her husband’s particular station; and having ascertained it, she instantly supplied his place, and, with undaunted determination, bravely continued to fight at the same gun during the remainder of the action. Nor was this all; for, with the tenderness of a female bosom, she sat up with the wounded, attended to their wants, soothed their complainings, and tried to forget her own sorrows by relieving theirs. The brave Rodney, you may depend upon it, didn’t forget her; and I heard that he obtained a handsome pension to support her. “There was Mrs. R--, the captain’s wife of the L---- frigate; though for the matter o’that, _she_ was captain, although only rated as mate. Ah, that was an Irish ship; captain Irish,--officers Irish,--men Irish; the ship’s name ought to have been Pat. She dearly loved her lads,--her boys, as she called them,--particularly Mr. O’Shaughnessy, the first-lieutenant, though the midshipmen knew pretty well how to get the weather-gage of her, especially when their case was in a pitiable condition, ‘showing a beggarly account of empty bottles.’ She was a lady, every inch of her, and used to come round the mess-deck morning, noon, and night, to see that all hands were comfortable and happy. If any body wanted liberty, it was only spinning a yarn to the petticoat captain, and they had it directly. Well, d’ye see, we had orders to sail; and so, to the great grief of all hands, Mrs. R. was obliged to leave us, with a heavy heart and a sorrowful countenance. ‘But never mind, boys,’ says she; ‘may be you’ll come back some day; and then, oh!--good bye to you, my boys, and stand by your captain to the last, like Erin’s own sons. Remember, Irishmen must never lose their laurel!’ And so we gave her three cheers as she went over the side. “Well, after several months’ absence on a long cruise, we once more reached Spithead, and in a day or two a pretty little yacht came working in from St. Helen’s to the anchorage. The officers got their glasses, and word was soon passed that our friend Mrs. R. was on board of her. All hands crowded on deck,--not an officer or man remained below. The captain took his station on the quarter-deck abaft, the officers, especially the midshipmen, were more in advance, while at the gangway stood the old master-at-arms, Michael Malone.