378 NIGHTS AT SEA; Or, Sketches of Naval Life during the War. BY THE OLD SAILOR. No. VIII. WITH AN ILLUSTRATION BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. THE BATTLE OF THE NILE.-THE DYING PRISONER. IF Lord Eustace had felt gratified at having captured one frigate, how much greater were the pleasure and pride of his heart when he beheld two fine frigates and an armed transport gracing his triumph! Yet, the greatest cause of satisfaction to his noble mind arose from a conviction that two of his lieutenants would be made commanders, and the same number of passed midshipmen would ship the white lapelles, whilst his brave fellows would receive a very handsome sum as head and prize-money. It was a fine, clear night, with warm weather, and smooth water, and the vessels moved but slowly through it. Lord Eustace was too anxious for the security of his ship to turn in, so he wrapped himself in his boat-cloak, and took an occasional short snooze upon the sofa, visiting the deck at every interval, to make sure that a strict look out was kept upon the prisoners. Nugent was equally on the alert; for, though he could not expect present promotion, yet the captures they had made would, he was well aware, tell handsomely in his favor on some future occasion; besides, notwith. standing his boasted appliances to book-making, and having what Spurzheim would have called "da bomp of consheit vera large," he was a good officer, attentive to his duty, and obedient to the routine of the service. The purser and the doctor, though only civilians, found plenty to do; the former in attending to the French officers, the latter in looking after the wounded. Meanwhile Plumstone and Peabody, the marines, kept watch and watch, visiting the prisoners, and manifesting to them that all attempts at rising would be met with condign punishment. Nor were those nosegays* of the navythe warrant officers-less diligent in their stations. The gunner, with his assistants, was down in the magazine filling cartridges. The carpenter and his crew actively employed themselves in debating upon the best mode of plugging a shot-hole; whilst old Savage lean. ed over his picture-gallery, looking into the blue depths of the ocean, and praying for the gift of Glendower to "call spirits from the vasty deep,"-for the boatswain's bottle was empty, and he longed for a "flash of lightning" to titillate his throat. By his side stood Jack Sheavehole, wondering what his superior could be thinking on, although giving a shrewd guess at the cause which induced him to ruminate so ardently. It was near four bells in the middle watch (two o'clock in the morning,) when old Savage turned round to his subordinate, and * Called "Nosegays" from Lord Melville having pronounced them the very flowers of the service. |