SAILORS.

The Wounded Sailor.—­When Admiral Benbow was a common sailor, his messmate, who was stationed with him at the same gun, lost his leg by a cannon shot.  The poor fellow instantly called out to his friend, who immediately took him up on his shoulder, and began with great care to descend with him into the cockpit; but it happened that just as the poor fellow’s head came upon a level with the deck, another ball carried that off also.  Benbow, however, knew nothing of the matter, but carried the body down to the surgeon, and when he came to the bottom of the ladder, called out that he had brought him a patient, desiring some one to bear a hand, and help him easily down.  The surgeon turned about, but instead of giving any assistance, exclaimed, “You blockhead, what do you do here with a man that has lost his head?” “Lost his head!” says Benbow; “the lying fellow, why he told me it was his leg; but I never in my life believed what he said without being sorry for it afterwards.”

When Lieutenant O’Brien (who was called Skyrocket Jack) was blown up at Spithead, in the Edgar, he was on the carriage of a gun, and when brought to the admiral, all black and wet, he said with pleasantry, “I hope, sir, you will excuse my dirty appearance, for I came out of the ship in so great a hurry, that I had not time to shift myself.”

A painter was employed in painting a West India ship in the river, suspended on a stage under the ship’s stern.  The captain, who had just got into the boat alongside, for the purpose of going ashore, ordered the boy to let go the painter (the rope which makes fast the boat); the boy instantly went aft, and let go the rope by which the painter’s stage was held.  The captain, surprised at the boy’s delay, cried out, “Heigh-ho, there, you lazy lubber, why don’t you let go the painter?” The boy replied, “He’s gone, sir, pots and all.”

Precedence.—­At a grand review of the fleet at Portsmouth by George III., in 1789, there was a boy who mounted the shrouds with so much agility, as to surprise every spectator.  The king particularly noticed it, and said to Lord Lothian, “Lothian, I have heard much of your agility, let us see you run up after that boy.”  “Sire,” replied Lord Lothian, “it is my duty to follow your majesty.”

Admiral Haddock, when on his death-bed, called his son, and thus addressed him:  “Considering my rank in life, and public services for so many years, I shall leave you but a small fortune; but, my boy, it is honestly got, and will wear well; there are no seamen’s wages or provisions, nor one single penny of dirty money, in it.”