The art of naval warfare has so greatly changed since the following prescription for chasing, fighting, and taking a 60-gun ship was written in Rogers' time, that it is really doubtful whether any definite rules for a sea fight could be given to-day. But in his time such matters appear to have been as well understood as the making of a bowl of good punch was. So, at any rate, we are taught by the author of "a collection of sundry pleasant and critical questions in navigation and the fighting of ships, for the improvement and diversion of the learner in his spare hours." The writer of which tells us "he has had twenty years' experience at sea as mate, master, and sworn teacher of the mathematics to the gentlemen volunteers in her Majestie's Royal Navy." He begins his instructions with the right methods of handling a ship in various kinds of weather, from the first change for the worse, "when the wind becometh fresh and frisking," until "it bloweth a storm with a very hollow grown sea." But the storm being past, the author says cheerfully, "Let us turn to windward," which soon brings his ship "into a good latitude and her proper station;" where the young officer is advised "to hand his topsails, farthel (or furl) the foresail and mainsail, trail up the mizen, and lie his ship a hull" (under bare poles) "until fortune appear upon the horizon;" a man being sent at the same time "to the maintop masthead" to look out for her in the shape of "any ships that have been nipt with the last northerly winds."

Like the big salmon of the literary fisherman, a sail is soon sighted, "A brave lusty ship of sixty guns. So much the better," says the writer, "for though we have but fifty, the enemy hath more goods in his hold, and it blows a brave chasing gale. Therefore let us set spritsails, spritsail-topsails, flying jib, and topgallants; and as we raise her apace we shall be up with her in three glasses" (half-hour glasses). It sounds strange in these days of monster ironclads to read that during a chase in a fifty-gun ship the crew were "ordered aft to remain quiet there, as the ship will steer better being too much by the head."

The enemy soon goes about, and is immediately followed by the young beginner. The chase "being a foul ship" (i.e. covered with weeds, barnacles, &c.), he gets to windward of her, and is advised to keep there, with "his enemy under his lee."

The gunner is now ordered "to see his guns all clear, and that nothing pester the decks." The hammocks being stowed round the bulwarks fore and aft in the nettings, the order is given to "down with all bulkheads" (cabin partitions, &c.) "that may hinder us or hurt with splinters;" and the gunner is asked, "whether there be good store of cartridges ready filled, and shot in the garlands" (racks for ball on deck) "between the guns and round the masts and hatches." He is also to see that "rammers, sponges, ladles, priming-irons, horns, linstocks, wads, swabs, and tubs of water, are all in place;" and that when engaged, "the guns be well loaded with crossbar and langrel" (old nails and bolts tied in bundles to cut an enemy's rigging), "and that the blunderbusses, musketoons, pistols, cutlashes, poleaxes, half-pikes, &c., are in readiness, and that the patereroes" (swivel guns) "and stock-fowlers in the round tops, have their chambers full of good powder, with bags of small shot" (bullets) "to load them, in order to clear the deck in case of the enemy boarding."

The men are then called to quarters; and escape being impossible, the chase shortens sail, and "puts abroad the white French ensign," which is saluted with a cheer, and a remark, "that though a larger ship and full of men, we shall match her, for our colours are St. George's." Then comes a neat little oration, headed "The Captain's Speech." "Gentlemen, We are maintained by her Majesty Queen Anne, and our country, to do our endeavours to keep the sea from her Majestie's enemies, piracy, and robbers; and 'tis our fortune to meet this ship. Therefore I desire you, in her Majestie's name, and for your own countrie's honour, that every man behave himself like an Englishman, and courageous to observe the word of command and do his best endeavour. So, committing ourselves and cause into God's hand, every man to his quarter, and God be with us and grant us victory!" This speech is at once followed by an order to the ship's musicians of "Up noise of trumpets, and hail our prize," which the French ship "answereth again with her trumpets." Which preliminaries of the old naval duel being over, the gunner is warned "to hold fast and not fire till fairly alongside of him, and within musket-shot." The time arrived, the guns are run out with the command, "Give him a broadside, a volley of small arms, and a huzza." After which the men are encouraged with, "Well done, my hearts! The enemy returns the compliment. What cheer, is all well betwixt decks? Yea, yea, only he hath rak'd us through and through. No fear, 'tis our turn next. Edge toward him, and give not fire till we are within pistol-shot. Port your helm, he plies his small shot.—Come, boys, load and fire our small arms briskly.—Hold fast, gunner; right your helm, and run up alongside. Starboard a little.—Now a broadside, gunner.—That was well done; this one hath thinned their decks of men, but his small-arms did gall us. Clap some case and partridge into the guns now loading. Brace-to the foretopsail that we shoot not ahead of him. He lies broad-off to bring his other broadside to bear. Starboard hard! Trim your topsails. He fires his starboard broadside, and pours in small shot.—Give no fire till he falls off, that he may receive our full broadside. Steady!—Port a little.—Fire!—Huzza! Cheerly, my mates, his foremast is by the board; that broadside did execution. He bears away to stop leaks; the day will be ours! Keep her thus.—Port, port hard! Bear up and give him our starboard broadside. Load with double-head round and case-shot. Yea, yea; port, make ready to board; have lashers and grapplings ready, with able men to tend 'em. Well steered; edge toward him, and when you fire bring your guns to bear right among his men with the case-shot. Fire!—Starboard, well done my hearts! they lie heads and points aboard the prize. Board him bravely. Enter, enter. Are you fast lashed? Yea, yea. Cut up his decks, ply your hand-grenades. They cry quarter!—Good: quarter is granted provided you lay down arms; open your hatches, haul down all sails and furl them. Loose the lashings, and we will sheer off and hoist out our boats; but if you offer to fire or make sail again, expect no quarter for your lives." Boats are then lowered, and the captain, officers, and part of the crew of the prize taken on board the young beginner's ship.

So much for the attack and capture of a vessel at sea in those days. In case, however, "the reader be curious to learn" something of the measures taken by merchantmen in Rogers' time to beat off an enemy, he is referred to "Defensive Sea Fighting" in Park's "Art of Fighting in Merchant Ships."

From the "Table of Gunnery" given below it would seem that our ancestors' guns were stronger or their powder weaker than ours, the weight of a charge of powder given in it in some cases exceeding half the weight of the shot:—

A Table of Gunnery.

Some Observations on finding the Longitude at Sea.

For want of correct timekeepers, a ship's longitude was, in the time of Queen Anne and for some time afterwards, an unsolved problem. But in the "Compleat Modern Navigator's Tutor, or The whole art of Navigation," published by one Joshua Kelly, of "Broad Street Wapping near Wapping New-stairs," in 1720, we are taught "five of the most rational ways of finding it." The learner is advised, however, "not to confide too much in them, or to omit any of the methods of a sea journal or other precautions to preserve a ship when she nears land." Among these methods eclipses of the moon and Jupiter's satellites of course come first. But of the first of these methods we are told that "it would be accurate and useful if we could have an eclipse of the moon every night," and of the second, that "the impractibility of managing a telescope twelve or fourteen feet long in the tossing rolling motion of a ship at sea, surrounds it with difficulties scarce to be remedy'd."

The craving of these old navigators for some form of good sea timekeeper is shown by Kelly's suggestion for finding the longitude by what he calls "automatas, or unerring clocks or watches," or even by "hour-glasses," directions being given for "preparing and using a very perfect and true-running sand glass, which may precisely run twenty-four hours without error, to be set exactly at noon on leaving the land; which glass upon being run out, is to be turned instantly every day, not losing any time in the turning of it; and so having very warily kept the said glass 'til you think good to make an observation at noon, and having in readiness an half hour, minute, and half minute glass, you may thereby know exactly how much the twenty-four hour glass is before or after the ship's time; the difference being your longitude, east or west, according as the time by the sun is afore or after the time by the glass." Navigation by account, or dead reckoning, has changed little since Kelly's time. Indeed, the use of the chronometer and the perfection of the modern sextant has almost superseded it except in the case of small coasters, &c.

But in Kelly and Woodes Rogers' days the log chip, reel, line, and half minute glass were the mariner's sole means of finding his longitude, or distance, sailed east or west.

Steam and patent logs have much simplified such calculations, which required many corrections not only for leeway but for errors in the log line and glass; "Shortness of the knots in a line," says Kelly, "being on the safer side, that a ship be not ahead of her reckoning; it being better to look for land before we come at it than to be ashoar before we expect it."

Sea Storms, Ancient and Modern.

Are the storms at sea of this century heavier than those of the time of Queen Anne? is a question one can hardly help asking after studying the logs of the "Duke" and "Dutchess" during their three years' cruise. Judging from Rogers' account, the whole of this period must have been one of remarkably fine weather at sea, even in the latitude of Cape Horn, as compared with the tempests torn to tatters which we constantly fall in with in the sea stories of to-day.

Or perhaps Capt. Woodes Rogers was of that old type of happy sea-dog for whom the song was written in which Jack "pities them poor folk ashore," when a storm comes on? Or perhaps "life on the ocean wave" in his time was really not so terrible for sailormen as it is now? These questions are not easily answered, for even among comparatively recent sea-writers, such as Marryat and Dana, life afloat, though not described as all smooth sailing, is never described as all hurricane and hurlyburly. Like a true seaman Marryat delights to draw pictures of men at home on the sea, and well able to contend with wind and wave, rather than write of ships with sails torn to shreds, and crews taking to drink as soon as they are caught in a close-reefed topsail breeze off Cape Horn.

Steam, no doubt, has much to answer for in having increased, rather than diminished the apparent terrors of bad weather at sea; causing writers who draw their experiences of storms from the decks of long narrow ships driven six or seven knots in the teeth of a gale, to form exaggerated ideas of tempests, and the behaviour of well handled sailing craft in the same weathers. A steamer plunges into a head-sea in a blundering sort of way, wallowing from side to side as she does so, and shipping water to port or starboard in the most uncertain manner. The power that drives the great hull against the rolling masses of water seems to have no sympathy with either the ship or the waves; and drenched from stem to stern, the vessel reels and staggers on her way, kept only to her work by careful use of helm. Now, the sailing vessel meets a head-sea, when lying-to under easy canvas, as though she knew just what to do with it. She is at one, so to speak, with the whole matter. Her long tapering spars act pendulum-like, checking all sudden or jerky rolling; and as long as a stitch of canvas can be set she meets the waves in a give-and-take way reminding one of the "soft answer that turneth away wrath." Again, modern describers of sea-storms seem to forget, that on board well found ships, things are not merely fitted for use in fair weather, but to bear the strain of bad weathers; and that loss of canvas and spars at sea was, and is looked upon as a matter of negligence; so much so that in the navy most of these losses had to be made good by the officer in command. And one seldom heard in old sea stories of cordage left to rattle and shriek, or sails to bang about and explode like cannon in the hands of real seamen. In fact, after once the canvas was reduced to its lowest, a head gale in a sailing vessel was less noisy than the same wind on shore among trees or houses; while down below the noise of the weather was not to be compared with the rattle and rumble of a gale inside a house. In the case of a sudden squall striking a ship after a spell of fine weather, or just after leaving port, no doubt a few loose things might fetch away, and give young sailors or passengers the notion that every thing was going topsy-turvy; but after a short spell of really hard weather, things soon get into place at sea, and, so far as officers and crew are concerned, the routine of sea life goes on as monotonously as in more moderate weather.

Even in that nobly simple story of disaster at sea, told of St. Paul, the approach of the catastrophe is unattended by noise; there is none of the confusion and shrieking of cordage that mark the stagey shipwreck of modern fiction. Nor did those old shipmen yield the loss of their ship without a good fight; but after sounding twice they cast four anchors out of the stern and quietly watched for the day. After which, the ship's head being already shoreward, the rudderbands were loosed, and a final effort was made to save their vessel by running for a creek; until falling into a place where two seas met, the ship struck, and some on planks, and some on broken pieces of the wreck, all got safe to shore.

The Old Seaclock