f late years much diminished; owing, in a great measure,
to the increased good feeling of naval officers, as also to the
Admiralty discountenancing such strong measures, unless in most urgent
cases. A captain of a man-of-war has, notwithstanding, and very
properly so, an almost absolute power, and corporal punishment rests
with him alone; but the humane officer, like Captain Hunter, punishes
one man to save many others, and shares with the delinquent the pain
which, for the sake of example, he is obliged to inflict. The
discipline of a ship of course depends almost entirely upon the
conduct of the captain; to him the officers look for guidance and
example; and whilst they see that the men do their duty properly, they
also learn from him to treat them with due consideration, having their
happiness and comfort in view. As in the case of the Venerable, when
the hour of danger arrives, each cheerfully performs the duties
allotted to him, relying with confidence on those who, from their
clemency, combined with firmness, they have been accustomed to look up
to with respect.

An additional interest belongs to the fate of this vessel, when we
bear in mind that her crew, whilst serving under Lord Duncan, in 1797,
remained untainted during the celebrated mutiny at the Nore.[8] She
also bore a conspicuous part in Lord Duncan's action with the Dutch
fleet, in October of the same year, engaging the Vryheid, the
flag-ship of the Dutch admiral.

The account of this great battle, however, is too well recorded in the
page of history to need repetition. It is sufficient to add, that the
Vryheid, after a noble resistance, was ultimately obliged to strike,
under the destructive fire of the Venerable, Triumph, Ardent, and
Director.

THE SHEERNESS.

In the afternoon of the 7th of January, 1805, His Majesty's ship
Sheerness, of 44 guns, was lying at anchor in the Colombo Roads,
Ceylon.

It was one of those days of extreme stillness which often precede the
frightful hurricanes that sweep the eastern seas. Not a breath of air
stirred, not a cloud was to be seen; the ship lay motionless on the
calm and glassy water. The ensign drooped in heavy folds from the
stern, and many of the crew lay stretched on the decks in listless
apathy, little anticipating the terrible convulsion of the elements
which was so soon to arouse them in fear. The monotony on board was
broken for a moment by the voice of the captain, Lord George Stuart,
who