Once when about shore in Bermuda I happened upon a negro who spoke very good English, truly better than most of he Irish on board. He politely inquired which ship we were from and I informed him, he knew of Her.
He said that there was on board our ship a game cock that went seventeen straight in a Welsh main, and that he his'self was the best setter to in the whole of Bermuda, and could heel any bird to its best advantage.
He then told all his fellows in a tongue none if us had ever heard, about our ship's 'Lord Nelson' and his victories and then they asked him to inquire if they were true.
I told him that most likely were all greatly exaggerated, but 'Lord Nelson' did in fact win every bout when pitted, even his last nine at a Welsh main as a blinker.
They then asked if we intended to fight him while wintering, and upon hearing of his untimely death at the hands of the King's enemies, they all fell solemn upon the news of his passing.
The linkster, a stout man by the name of Jupiter with a great amount of propriety asked my name and upon translation the men laughed and cackled, much to my dismay. Uneasy and wanting to be on the lee shore of this goat, Jupiter then informed me that there was nary a slighting to my good name but simply that the Royal Marines treat them as chattel and asked if we had any skates for sale!
In or around a fortnight or so, give or take, I happened upon Jupiter again, and he told me of one of his birds, that by his pledge was the matriarch of many good fighter and that she always threw roosters. He then begged to know if we had any gamecocks onboard and to this I answered no, I only have broody hens.
He insisted that I take but one egg, not to eat, but one to fight!