ur little man stood upon the taffrail, swung his sword, d--d the
English, and praised his own men. He had been long enough in the
United States to acquire property and information, and credit enough
to command a schooner of four guns and ninety men. The crew considered
him a brave man, and a good sailor, but not over generous in his
disposition. Whether the following is a proof of it, I cannot
determine.

He allowed the crew but one gill of New England rum per day, which
they thought an under dose for a Yankee. They contended for more, but
he refused it. They expostulated, and he remained obstinate; when at
length they one and all declared that they would not touch a rope
unless he agreed to double the allowance to half a pint. The captain
was a very abstemious man himself, and being very small in person, he
did not consider that a man four times as big required twice as much
rum to keep his sluggish frame in the same degree of good spirits. He
held out against his crew for two days, during which time they never
one of them so much as lifted a spun-yarn. The weather was, be sure,
very mild and pleasant. I confess, however, that I was very uneasy,
under the idea that we might all perish, from the obstinacy of the
crew, on one side, and the firmness of the little man on the other.
Our captain found that his government was democratical; and perceiving
that the weather was about to change, he conceded to the large and
fearful majority; and New England spirit carried the day against a
temperate European commander.

This habit of rum drinking makes a striking difference between the
military of ancient and modern days. If a Roman soldier, or a
Carthagenian sailor, had his clothing, his meat, and his bread, and
his vinegar, he was contented, and rarely was guilty of mutiny. But
the modern soldier and sailor must, in addition to these, have his
rum, or brandy, and his _tobacco_; deprive him of these two articles,
which are neither food nor clothing, and he infallibly mutinies: that
is, he runs the risk of the severest punishment, even that of death,
rather than renounce these modern luxuries. I have observed among
sailors, that they bear the deprivation of rum with more patience than
the deprivation of tobacco. On granting the crew half a pint of rum a
day, they gave three cheers, and went to work with the greatest
cheerfulness and alacrity.

The Americans, I believe, drink more spirits than the same class of
people in Engla