THE SAILOR'S JOURNAL.

HOVE out of Portsmouth on board the Britannia Fly—a swift failer—an outride birth—rather drowfy the first watch or two—liked to have flipped off the stern—caft anchor at the George—took a fresh quid and a supply of grog—comforted the upper works charmingly—spoke several homeward-bound frigates on the road—and, after a tolerable smooth voyage, entered the port of London at ten minutes past five, past meridian.

Steered to Nan's lodgings and unshipped my cargo—Nan admired the shiners—so did the landlord—gave 'em a handful a piece—emptied a bowl of the right fort with the landlord to the health of his honor Lord Nelfon—all three let fail for the play—got a birth in a cabin on the larboard side—wanted to fmoak a pipe but the boatswain would not let me—Nan, I believe, called the play *Pizzaro* with *Harlekin Hamlet*—but d...n me if I knew a stem from stern— remember to rig out Nan like the fine folks in the cabins, right a head—faw Tom Junk aloft in the corner of the upper deck—hailed him—the signal returned—some of the land lubbers, in the cock-pit, began to laugh—tipped 'em a little fore-mast lingo, till they sheered off—emptied the grog bottle—fell aft a-sleep—dreamt of the battle off Camperdown—my landlord told me the play was over—glad of it—crowded fail for a hackney coach—got on board—fqually weather—rather inclined to be fea-fick—arrived at Nan's lodgings—gave the pilot a two pound note and told him not to mind change—fupped with Nan and my landlord—after which Nan and I fwung in the fame hammock—looked over my rhino in the morning—a great deal of it to be fure—but I hope, with the help of a few friends, to fpend every fhilling in a little time to the honor and glory of OLD ENGLAND.

PRINTED BY E. SPRAGG, 27, BOW-STREET, COVENT-GARDEN.

THE SAILOR'S JOURNAL.

HOVE out of Portsmouth on board the Britannia Fly—a swift failer—an outfide birth—rather
drowfy the first watch or two—liked to have flipped off the ftern—caft anchor at the George—
took a fresh quid and a supply of grog—comforted the upper works charmingly—spoke several
homeward-bound frigates on the road—and, after a tolerable smooth voyage, entered the port of
London at ten minutes past five, post meridian.

Steered to Nan's lodgings and unfhipped my cargo—Nan admired the shiners—fo did the
landlord—gave 'em a handful a piece—emptied a bowl of the right fort with the landlord to the
health of his honor Lord Nelfon—all three set fail for the play—got a birth in a cabin on the
larboard side—wanted to fmoak a pipe but the boatswain would not let me—Nan, I believe, called
the play Pizziro with Harlekin Hamlet—but d...n me if I knew flem from ftern— remember to rig
out Nan like the fine folks in the cabins, right a head—faw Tom Junk aloft in the corner of the
upper deck—hailed him—the fignal returned—fome of the land lubbers, in the cock-pit, began
to laugh—tipped 'em a little fore-maft lingo, till they sheered off—emptied the grog bottle—
fell faft a-fleep—dreamt of the battle off Camperdown—my landlord told me the play was over—
glad of it—crowded fail for a hackney coach—got on board—fqually weather—rather inclined to
be fea-fick—arrived at Nan's lodgings—gave the pilot a two pound note and told him not to mind
change—fupped with Nan and my landlord—after which Nan and I fwung in the fame hammock
—looked over my rhino in the morning—a great deal of it to be fure—but I hope, with the help
of a few friends, to fpend every fhilling in a little time to the honor and glory of OLD ENGLAND.

(These charts are for monitor calibration only)

97L

50L

20L

Yale Center for British Art, 2013