_Frank Mildmay_, where the cruise of the _Impérieuse_ along the Spanish
coast is most graphically and literally described. Cochrane's
_Autobiography_ betrays the strong, stern individuality of the man,
invaluable in action, somewhat disturbing in civil life. As a reformer
in season and out of season, at the Admiralty or in the House of
Commons, his zeal became a bye-word, but Marryat knew him only on board
his frigate, as an inspiring leader of men. He never passed an
opportunity of serving his country and winning renown, but his daring
was not reckless.

"I must here remark," says Marryat in his private log, "that I never
knew any one so careful of the lives of his ship's company as Lord
Cochrane, or any one who calculated so closely the risks attending any
expedition. Many of the most brilliant achievements were performed
without loss of a single life, so well did he calculate the chances; and
one half the merit which he deserves for what he did accomplish has
never been awarded him, merely because, in the official despatches,
there has not been a long list of killed and wounded to please the
appetite of the English public."

Marryat has left us a graphic account of his first day at sea:--

"The _Impérieuse_ sailed; the Admiral of the port was one who _would_
be obeyed, but _would not_ listen always to reason or common sense.
The signal for sailing was enforced by gun after gun; the anchor was
hove up, and, with all her stores on deck, her guns not even mounted,
in a state of confusion unparalleled from her being obliged to hoist
in faster than it was possible she could stow away, she was driven out
of harbour to encounter a heavy gale. A few hours more would have
enabled her to proceed to sea with security, but they were denied; the