Without the slightest doubt, the very day I stepped aboard my first ship moored in Portsmouth Naval Dock Yard was in reality the defining moment of my life. That day marked the actual moment, when as a young boy not yet thirteen years of age I began to follow in the family tradition of serving in His Majesties Royal Navy. From that very moment on it was my responsibility to forge out a career for myself; family connections would have no bearing on my future in fact at times it would become a hindrance leaving me open to ridicule and bullying. Rank would most certainly not come to me handed on a silver salver I would have to earn that the hard way by study and examination as well as by my ability to command a fighting ship. Do you know when I look back all those years I can still remember that October day in 1792 as if it were only yesterday; every nerve in my body tingled that morning, not with the excitement of opening a gift you understand but with the absolute fear of the completely unknown life that now lay ahead of me. At the age of twelve this was not the beginning of a new school term or the excitement of being among fifty boys joining a new school, this was something completely new. I had no idea what this new life I had chosen would be like as I stood looking up at a ship that towered way above my person named King George; a first rate fighting ship in the service of His Majesties Royal Navy.