34:8 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. 



fell about forty feet upon the deck, within three yards of where I 

 was standing. The crash was dreadful, and he was instantly carried 

 below, affairs going on just as if he had been a spider. It was found 

 that his right arm was shattered to pieces, and his whole frame shook 

 fatally. He continued composed and sensible for three hours, when 

 he began to moan wofully, and in half an hour expired. He was a 

 Scotsman of the name of Murray, one of the best men in the ship, 

 and brother, it is said, of a clergyman. No doubt many felt for 

 him, but the noise, laughter, swearing, and singing, went on during 

 all the time he was dying. 



"Thursday, 9th. — The ship has been making considerable way 

 during the night, and at eight o'clock we are off the Isle of Wight ; 

 ' Snake' and ' Pantaloon' about two miles behind, all three going 

 before the wind. The dead man is lying on the gun-deck, separated 

 from where I now sit by a thin partition. The body is wrapped in 

 flags, and the walls at his head and back are hung with cutlasses and 

 the muskets of the marines. His weatherbeaten face is calm and 

 smiling, and ' after life's fitful fever he sleeps well.' The night be- 

 fore, he was one of the most active in a jig danced to the fifes. The 

 wind is freshening, and we expect to be off Plymouth (120 miles) by 

 midnight. We have sprung one of our yards, and the fore-mast 

 seems shaken, so we shall put into Plymouth to refit, and probably 

 remain there three days. It is not unlikely that the Admiral (Mal- 

 colm) may join us there. If not, we shall sail for Cork (distant 300 

 miles), and then, perhaps, the experimental squadron will begin its 

 career. We have no more fear of fighting, neither do we know 

 where we may be going, but my own opinion is that we shall cruise 

 in the Channel, I do not see that I can be at home sooner than a 

 month at the soonest, as all that I came to see remains yet to be 

 seen. I am not without hopes of getting a letter from you before 

 we leave Plymouth. I meet with all kindness from everybody, and 

 am pleased with the on-goings of a sea-life, though the bustle and 

 disturbance is greater than I had imagined, and the noise incessant 

 and beyond all description. But my appetite is good, and I am 

 never heard to utter a complaint. All day wind light, but towards 

 evening it freshened, and at seven we committed the body of the 

 poor sailor to the deep. The funeral ceremony was most impressive. 

 Before nightfall the ' Snake' came up with a fresh breeze, and we 

 had another contest, in which the ' Vernon' was fairly beaten. In 



