The Death of Cook, 1784, 1787-1788

The Death of Cook, John Cleveley the Younger, 1784, collection unknown.

Detail from The Death of Cook, John Cleveley the Younger, 1784, Wikimedia Commons.

Detail from The Death of Cook, John Cleveley the Younger, c.1784, Honolulu Academy of Arts via Wikimedia Commons.

View of Owhyhee, one of the Sandwich Islands (Known as The Death of Cook), John Cleveley the Younger, published posthumously by Frances Jukes, 1788, Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa.

John Cleveley the Younger, a prolific marine artist, followed in the footsteps of his father. Unlike other marine artists, the Cleveley family maintained connections to the world of common sailors. John Cleveley the Elder and his son James were both ship's carpenters.

James was lucky enough to join Captain Cook's fateful third voyage aboard the Resolution. It is quite possible that he personally witnessed the death of Captain Cook, and so could inform his brother John's work on the subject.

For centuries, copies of Cleveley the Younger's depiction of Captain Cook's death could be found in collections around the world, including some of those shown above. In 2004, the original painting turned up for auction at Christies, where it caught more than three times the expected price. Much of this was due to the difference between the original and the copies.

As reported at the time, Cleveley showed Cook clubbing his musket and fighting with the natives of Hawaii, rather than fleeing as in the subsequent, sanitized versions.

The sailors themselves are clad in red, brown, and blue jackets, with white trousers, and one or two trousers with narrow vertical red or blue stripes. One oarsman even appears to be wearing a striped jacket. Round hats make up the headwear of the common sailors in Cleveley's piece.

British Heroism at Omoa, 1789

British Heroism at Omoa, artist unkown, in The Gentleman's and London Magazine: Or Monthly Chronologer, August, 1789, Google Books.

The latest in the images I have thus far collected of the British tar at Omoa, this print accompanied a brief description of the event published in the August 1789 edition of The Gentleman's and London Magazine: Or Monthly Chronologer.

Where Humphrey, who was the first to put the British tar at Omoa into an engraving, put the coarse words of a sailor into the mouth of the tar, the author of the Monthly Chronologer is closer to the original merciful version as related by Captain Dalrymple, though still far from accurate by that account:

One brave Castilian, resolved to conquer or die, threw himself before the brave British tar, and opposed him with all the vigour and skill he was master of, but was quickly disarmed. But the generous victor, disclaiming to take advantages, took up the sword, and presented it to the owner, "Now," cried he, "we are on equal terms; defend yourself. I scorn to attack an unarmed man" The Spaniard, struck at his generosity, received his sword, and bravely defended himself; but was soon forced to yield. "Generous Conqueror!" cried he, "I am in every way your inferior. You first overcome me by your valour, then by your generosity, and now again I am forced to submit. But where such heroism is found, resistance is vain, and opposition fruitless."

The author is so bold as to go even further with this syrupy exaggeration by claiming that the sailor was given instant preferment, something not mentioned in the original dispatches.

A sailor so supernaturally skilled at combat and mercy as to make a Spaniard decry himself as 'in every way your inferior' should look uncommonly gallant. Our unknown engraver has done his best to imbue the British tar with a manful and gallant look.

The tar wears a round hat with wide brim bound with tape. From his right shoulder to his left hip is draped a baldrick for his cutlass, which is clasped in his right hand. He wears a dark jacket that ends about the top of the thigh (though it is difficult to be certain). A single breasted jacket runs down to the plain petticoat trousers where it might be tucked in. The petticoat trousers themselves have a 'broad-fall' fly and end about the top of the calf. White stockings run to pointed toe shoes with large oval buckles. The resolution isn't high enough to be certain, but the straps of his shoes might be trained in the sailor's fashion.

Gallant Behaviour of an English Sailor, c.1785

Gallant behaviour of an English Sailor in offering a sword to an unarmed Spaniard to defend himself, at the taking of Fort Omoa, in the Bay of Honduras, October 20th 1779, engraved by John Record after Metz, c.1785, Library of Congress.

Here is another edition of the British tar at Omoa. This print was engraved for Raymond's History of England, a work that (according to the Brighton Royal Pavilion and Museums) was first published in 1754, but continued into 1787. The Library of Congress dates this c. 1785, as the particular edition that this was published in included events through the Spring of 1784. Other copies exist in the collection of the National Maritime Museum and British Museum.

Though intended as a historical piece, rather than as a caricature or political cartoon, this engraving portrays the Spaniard in archaic clothing more reminiscent of the seventeenth century than the late eighteenth. Portrayals of Spaniards as backward or out of sync with the times were incredibly common among English cartoonists. It is interesting to note that a straight historical narrative of the time also depicted the stereotypical Spaniard in his anachronistic garb.

The sailor wears no hat, and wears his hair short and loose. Without a neckcloth, his white shirt hangs open. The blue jacket is single breasted without pockets or collar, ending right below the natural waist. His plain trousers end just above the ankle, revealing rounded toe shoes.

Three of his mates mount a ladder over the fortress walls. They too are hatless and wear blue jackets. It appears that the engraver or the colorist has given the second tar climbing the ladder a handkerchief around the neck, or perhaps a collar of different color than the body of the jacket.

A British Sailor Offering a Sword to an Unarmed Spanish Officer, 1783

A British Sailor offering a Sword to an Unarmed Spanish Officer, engraved by John Thronton, 1783, Library of Congress.

Another copy of this print can be found at the National Maritime Museum.

In the upper left, sailors bearing cutlasses mount the parapets. All of them wear short caps, probably Dutch/Monmouth knit caps, though it's difficult to be sure. Rushing up the ladder is a jack in a jacket that ends beneath the waist, it appears to have two vents and is lined in white. His trousers end above the ankle.

Standing atop a Spanish gun and proudly waving a British flag, a sailor wears a patterned bandanna around his head, a black neckcloth at his collar, a single breasted waistcoat with cloth buttons ending at the waist, and an unlined jacket. His trousers are vertically striped. 

The gallant sailor at the front, offering a sword to his enemy, wears a round hat with a very short brim. His neckcloth is striped. Our hero wears a double breasted, lined jacket with slash cuffs. The waistcoat is double breasted, ending at his white petticoat trousers with their broad fall fly. We get a peek at his breeches beneath, and see that they are fastened with laces! It's not often we see sailor's breeches, much less a good view of how they are closed. White stockings lead down to the pointed toe shoes with oval buckles.

The British Tar at Omoa, 1780

The British Tar at Omoa, William Humphrey, 1780, British Museum.

It has been 238 years since the Battle of San Fernando de Omoa. After Spain's entry into the American Revolutionary War, a British expedition was dispatched to what is today Honduras, and stormed the works with sailors and soldiers. 

The strategic effect was completely neutralized when the Spanish returned and retook the fort shortly thereafter. For this war, the numbers involved were small and the casualties light. The only real legacy of the battle is the surviving fortifications which stand as a tourist attraction to this day. 

For the British public, the seizing of Omoa was welcome news, but not particularly celebrated. That is, until the dispatches came back from the minor victory. Captain William Dalrymple, who commanded the small group of Irish Volunteers fighting alongside the sailors, included this in his letter describing the battle to Lord George Germain:

The Political Magazine and Parliamentary, Naval, Military,
and Literary Journal, Volume 1, August 1780, page 42

Here's a transcription of the above clipping:

Your lordship will pardon my mentioning an instance of an elevated mind in a British tar, which amazed the Spaniards, and gave them a very high idea of English valour: not content with one cutlass, he scrambled up the walls with two; and meeting a Spanish officer without arms, who had been roused out of his sleep, had the generosity not to take any advantage; but presenting him with one of his cutlasses, told him, "You are now on a footing with me."

Dalrymple's full letter, including the above anecdote, was included in the December 18, 1779 edition of the London Gazette. The following year, modified versions of the story started circulating in British papers.

Adams Weekly Courant, April 4, 1780, page 2

Both the Adams Weekly Courant (published in Chester) of April 4, 1780, and the Edinborough Advertiser of the same day included the same, modified version of Darlymple's original tale. It was not a sailor, but an Irish volunteer soldier named Concannen who 'flung' his dead companion's sword at the feet of a 'petrified' Spaniard. This story appears to be a (perhaps deliberate) misreading of Darlrymple's original dispatch. Mr. Concannen does appear in the dispatch as one of the first up the ladder to storm the fort, but he is a naval midshipman, not an Irish volunteer.

The Political Magazine and Parliamentary, Naval, Military,
and Literary Journal, Volume 1, August 1780, page 42

The elevation of the main character from a common and nameless sailor to a relative gentleman did not take hold. Conforming to the trend of depicting Britannia as a manful, violent, and strong British sailor, artists took up the image of the British tar at Omoa, offering his sword to a powerless Spanish officer.

Over the next two weeks, I will be examining different prints depicting this scene, stretching from 1780-1790.

Today I begin with William Humphrey's print. This is the earliest print depicting the British tar at Omoa that I am aware of. Humprey's sailor strides forward to offer a sword to an embarrassingly unprepared Spaniard. In the background a phalanx of bayonets drives away Spanish grenadiers, to the sound of a ship's broadside at the left.

The cowering Spaniard declares 'Ah Misericordia Segnor Inglese! me beg to be excused,' while wiping tears from his eyes.

Our hero may be gallant in his offering defense to the Spanish officer, but he insults their flag by stepping across it in his pointed toe shoes with oval buckles. His response to the Spaniard's plea is not the egalitarian 'You are now on a footing with me,' but the coarse 'Damn my Eyes, Don, take your Choice!'

The British tar's trousers are white, and end above the ankle, cinching close at the waist. His jacket is single breasted, ending at the waist, or perhaps tucked into the loose trousers. His jacket is fitted with simple, unadorned cuffs. The sailor's neckcloth is tied almost like a neckstock. Over short and loose hair he wears a round hat with a short brim.

Selection of Scotch, English, Irish and Foreign Airs, 1782

Frontispiece to A Selection of Scotch, English, Irish and Foreign Airs, by James Aird, published by J. McFadyen, 1782, Internet Archive.

Special thanks to follower Adam Hodges-LeClaire for pointing this one out.

Published late in the American Revolutionary War, Aird's five volume work was dedicated to 'the Vounteer and Defensive Bands of Great Britain and Ireland.' It contained music to inspire the soldiers and sailors in the defense of their homeland, the suppression of the rebellious colonies, and the invasion of foreign territories.

The figures in the frontispiece represent a grenadier and highland solider, and two sailors. The grenadier tramps on the seal for Spain, and the soldiers stand on the banner of France. Recognizing the presumed motivations of sailors, an open chest of coins lays beside them.

Both sailors wear long trousers that end above the ankle and taper a bit close to the leg. Both wear jackets with drop collars, turned back cuffs, and matching lapels. One wears a double breasted waistcoat, and the other wears a single breasted waistcoat. They both sport bob wigs and round hats, though the fellow on the left has a uniformly upturned brim with tape, and the other's hat is turned up on both the left and right and bears some sort of device on the front. One sailor holds a curved cutlass still in its sheath.

The True British Tar, 1785

The True British Tar, Carington Bowles, 1785, British Museum.

Beyond the window lies a ship at anchor, but clearly our sailor is a bit more focused on the sacks of Spanish dollars he's procured. His table is scattered with coins and bedecked with bottles of Madeira. Lying against the box on which he sits is a neglected pipe, spilling its flames and smoking worryingly.

Our mariner wears a round hat lined with gold tape, and decorated with a blue bow (typical of works by Carington Bowles). Flowing from beneath is a wig with a long, tightly bound queue. Sailors of the eighteenth century wore their hair short, until just about this period when long and tightly bound queues begin to appear alongside should length and shorter hair styles. This is the earliest image I'm aware of that clearly shows a common sailor with a long, tightly bound pigtail or 'rattail.' His neckcloth is a sort of burgundy color, and fringed at the edges.

The jacket itself is blue, but it is impossible to tell if it is single or double breasted. Either way, it has brass buttons on both the front and the slash cuffs. Out of the jacket pocket, or perhaps spilling out through a rear vent, a burgundy handkerchief spotted in yellow hangs loose. His red waistcoat has white metal buttons, and a colorful blue ribbon and fob extends from beneath it.

Red striped trousers lead down to clocked stockings, pointed toe shoes, and yellow metal oval shaped buckles. The straps of his shoes are trained "sailor fashion."

Fortune's Favourites: or Happiness in every Situation, 1786

Fortune's Favourites: or Happiness in every Situation, Robert Dighton, printed by Bowles & Carver, 1786, British Museum.

Dighton's cartoon shows all classes of society smiling and enjoying their day beneath a blindfolded Fortune, with one hand on a wheel (perhaps a spinning wheel?) and the other holding an overflowing cornucopia. A cobbler, butcher, shoeblack, and carpenter join the sailor in representing the lower classes. They are comingled with a decorated peer, a rich miser, and (according to the curators of the British Museum) 'a fat alderman eating from a bowl of soup inscribed "Turtle."'

The image is crowded, so the sailor is obscured by the miser.

Over his loose and flowing locks, our tar wears a cocked hat with the point forward and a large blue cockade on the left side. Around his neck is a red neckcloth, draped over his shirt and jacket. The blue jackets is fitted with open mariner's cuffs with white or silver buttons. Beneath his plain petticoat trousers is a wooden leg.

Tavern scene, 1786

A tavern scene, Thomas Rowlandson, 1786, British Museum.

Rowlandson's sketch depicts a raucous tavern. Perhaps this is the same tavern that he would later illustrate being raided by a press gang. Among the revelers is a sailor embracing a woman who reaches for the punch ladle.

He wears a cap or round hat atop his head, a pair of trousers that end above the ankle, and a jacket that ends just below the waist.

The Frenchman in Distress, 1786

The Frenchman in Distress, Robert Dighton, printed by Bowles & Carver, 1786, British Museum.

Beating well dressed and effeminate Frenchmen is a running theme in British cartoons of the late eighteenth century. In this case, a coachman gets his licks in, raising a fist while the Frenchman empties his pockets, spilling his fripperies onto the sidewalk. Numerous onlookers watch the scene, including a sailor and what might be his family.

The large woman stands by the oysters she has for sale, an oyster knife hanging from her waist. to the right stands a well dressed tar.

His round hat is black with an upturned brim, a "buck hat." His shirt is bared between the open lapels of a red waistcoat, over which a short black neckcloth hangs down, tied beneath his collar. A blue jacket with white buttons and a closed mariners cuff hands down to the top of his thighs. White trousers striped with narrow red vertical stripes ends above the ankle. Rectangular buckles keep his shoes fit tight, and he holds a stick in his right hand.

Courtship in Low Life, 1785

Courtship in Low Life, Thomas Rowlandson, 1785, Royal Collection Trust.

The curators at the Royal Collection trust suppose this print to have been acquired by Queen Victoria in the nineteenth century. It was originally accompanied by a matching print entitled Courtship in High Life.

The latter, shown above, depicts the future King George IV, the current Prince of Wales, courteously kneeling at the foot of a well dressed woman. The humorous contrast comes from the drunken tar in the former, pouring a glass of wine and winking at a woman "in a state of undress" as the curator so delicately puts it.

Our sailor wears a black round hat with the short brim slightly upturned, possibly a buck hat. His curly brown hair might be cut short, but it's hard to tell with the detail in this image. Around his neck is a yellow neckcloth dotted in red, or perhaps floral. Looking closely, it is easy to tell that the original engraving did not grant our tar a waistcoat. There are no lines, no pockets, and no buttons. Possibly Rowlandson wanted his sailor to be wearing a shirt alone, or maybe a smock tucked into his trousers. The red may have been an attempt by the colorist to impart a waistcoat on our mariner.

His trousers are striped, but this was also added by the colorist. With a wooden leg for his left, he wears a blue stocking on his one good foot, with a white metal oval buckle on his shoe. His jacket is blue with yellow metal buttons. Interestingly, the open mariners' cuff on his left wrist still bears the yellow buttons, so perhaps Rowlandson intended them to be non-functional.

Scenes from the American Revolution, Plate 12, 1784

Ende der Feindseeligkeiten. Die Engländer räumen den Americanern Neu-Yorck ein 1783, Daniel Chodowiecki, 1784, Library of Congress.

The final in a series of prints by Daniel Chodowiecki depicting scenes from the course of the American Revolution, this print depicts the evacuation of New York by the British army. Chodowiecki depicts a family of Native Americans looking on, or at least Native Americans as he imagines them. He clothes the woman and child in diaphanous robes as though they were in ancient Greece, and the man wears a waist cloth and a quiver of arrows over his shoulder.

To the left of the frame are another pair of onlookers: a woman in European dress, and a sailor.

The sailor wears a round hat with brim slightly upturned. His hair is well kept, and hands above the collar of his horizontally striped waistcoat, which is triple vented. Clean petticoat trousers end just about the knee, where dark stockings (or stockings that are just in shadow) run down to shoes that might be mules or slips.

It is worth noting that the artist is clearly drawing inspiration from Central Europe, rather than from America or Britain. His depictions of others in this print and the other eleven plates, along with the architecture shown there, are all derived from European inspiration. Chodowiecki's depiction of this sailor may be more accurate for a German Matrose than an American or English sailor.

Saint George for England, 1781

Saint George for England, Carrington Bowles, 1781, British Museum.

At the base of this print is a poem, surmounted by a bowl of punch:

Behold your Saint with Glorious English Fare,
Noble Sirloin, Rich Pudding and strong Beer.
For you my Heart's of Oak, for your Regale,
Here 's good old English Stingo Mild & Stale.
This Porter is by Famous Calvert made,
Justly Renowned of all the Brewing Trade.
Such cheer as this will make you Bold & Strong,
Who'd not on such a Noble Saint, Rely on.

Lifting his foaming tankard with a smile, our jolly tar is Saint George himself, patron of England. He is the first in a series of seven "Tutelar Saints" (meaning guardian saints) produced by Bowles. Each represents a different nation, riding a different mount, and carrying a different indulgence. Patrick on a horse with wine for Ireland, Andrew on a unicorn with snuff for Scotland, and David on a goat with leeks. The remaining three are for Spain, France, and Italy, but I have not yet found the images nor the saints connected with those.

I have often pointed out on this blog that the British nation was increasingly personified in the image of a common sailor as the eighteenth century progressed. Here we see that trend at its logical conclusion. Saint George is no longer a knight on horseback lancing a dragon, but is a sailor with a comically oversized sword driven through the white flag of France and raising a good Calvert & Co. porter to his victory.

His reversed cocked hat is festooned with a large badge bearing the cross of Saint George, and topped with acorns. Beneath it he wears a bob wig. George's dotted neckcloth is draped over his checked shirt, jacket, and sword.

Bowles couldn't decide on which pattern to make George's single breasted waistcoat, so he alternates between plaid, horizontally striped, and vertically striped. His jacket is piped in a plain tape, around the cuffs, lapels, and pocket. George's trousers end above the ankle and are remarkably wide bottomed. Plain stockings run into shoes with oval buckles.

Plate from Histoire des naufrages, 1788

Plate from Histoire des Naufrages, engraved by Marillier, 1788, John Carter Brown Library of Early American Images.

The curators of the John Carter Brown Library of Early American Images state that this image depicts a small group of survivors from a pair of English vessels bound from Quebec to New York City during the American Revolutionary War whose schooner was lost with all hands and ship run aground. In a desperate bid for salvation, these six men took a damaged boat ashore and were met by two Native Americans, who are shown here providing them with warmth and food.

The weak seamen gathered about the fire wear breeches and loose petticoat trousers. Their jackets have buttoned scalloped mariner's cuffs, and at least one of them is double vented at the back. Atop their heads they wear tattered round hats with tall cylindrical crowns and one fellow had a loose cap. They sport some facial hair, probably a sign of their desperation and lack of comforts, as it is incredibly rare for sailors to be portrayed with beards.

And officer and a sailor, also bearing beards and long hair, stand over the others. The sailor wears a round hat with upturned brim, single breasted jacket, and trousers.

A View of Christmas Harbour, 1784

A View of Christmas Harbour in Kerguelen's Island, engraved by Newton after John Webber, 1784, Davidson Galleries.

Thanks once more to Adam Hodges-LeClaire for pointing this out to me!

The harbor seen here was originally drawn by John Webber over the week of Christmas in 1776. Webber was accompanying the famous explorer Captain James Cook on the Discovery and Resolution. Cook wrote in his journal on December 24:

I immidiately dispatched Mr [William] Bligh the Master in a boat to Sound the Harbour, who on his return reported it to be safe and commodious with good anchorage in every part, and great plenty of fresh water, Seals, Penguins and other birds on the shore but not a stick of Wood.

Webber's original drawing, in the collection of the British Library, shows a slightly different scene. The penguins are still milling about, but there is no club bearing sailor come to hunt them. Two are already dead by his feet. It is unclear why the sailor was later added, and who put him in there. Perhaps he was drawn to add some action to an otherwise rather static scene. There is another version, colorized, in the collection of the State Library of New South Wales, that includes the club carrying sailor.

Our tar wears a cap or round hat with very short brim. His jacket (blue in the State Library of NSW version) runs to the natural waist, and his plain white trousers with side seam pockets end at about the bottom of the calf, revealing his white stockings.

English creamware jug transfer, c.1787

English creamware jug transfer 'Poor Jack,' artist unknown, c.1787, Online Galleries.

You can buy this one for yourself over at Online Galleries! It's an original double sided creamware jug with red transfer on both sides. The opposite side (not pictured here) is based on a Cleveley painting that made its appearance in 1787, thus the estimated date.

The artist of this piece uses the tried and true 'Sailor's Farewell' trope, depicting a well dressed mariner saying goodbye to his weeping love as a boat comes ashore to fetch him. The sailor at center points to an angel overhead in saying his goodbyes.

An oarsman in a dark jacket and plain waistcoat over trousers. Atop his head is a round hat with tall cylindrical crown and narrow brim.

Jack wears a similar round hat. At his neck is a narrow black neckcloth that hands over his single breasted waistcoat and a dark jacket with white lining. His trousers are plain white with a fall front.

Yarico, 1775 and 1780

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Man sells a slave woman to another, Guillaume-Thomas-François Raynal, 1775, John Carter Brown Library Archive of Early American Images.

Un Anglais de la Barbade, vend sa Maitresse, Jean-Michel Moreau, 1780, John Carter Brown Library Archive of Early American Images.

These prints relate the story of Yarico.

First told in 1657 by Richard Ligon, the story is related on page 55 of his book A True & Exact History of the Island of Barbadoes. Yarico was an enslaved native woman who was held on the plantation where Ligon was staying, and gave him this story of her enslavement

This Indian dwelling near the Sea-coast, upon the Main, an English ship put in to a Bay, and sent some of her men a shoar, to try what victuals or water they could find, for in some distress they were: But the Indians perceiving them to go up so far into the Country, as they were sure they could not make a safe retreat, intercepted them in their return, and fell upon them, chasing them into a Wood, and being dispersed there, some were taken, and some kill'd: but a young man amongst them stragling from the rest, was met by this Indian Maid, who upon the first sight fell in love with him, and hid him close from her Countrymen (the Indians) in a Cave, and there fed him, till they could safely go down to the shoar, where the ship lay at anchor, expecting the return of their friends. But at last, seeing them upon the shoar, sent the long-Boat for them, took them aboard, and brougth them away. But the youth, when he came ashoar in the Barbadoes, forgot the kindness of the poor maid, that had ventured her life for his safety, and sold her for a slave, who was as free born as he: And so poor Yarico for her love, lost her liberty.

The story is a difficult one, and the kind that tugged on heartstrings in such a way that the image had some staying power. The March 13, 1711 edition of The Spectator included more details to this story, though these were probably fictional embellishments.

The Spectator, March 13, 1711, page 2

The unnamed young man is now an overly ambitious Thomas Inkle, whose love of money and advancement outpaced common human decency. Yarico tearfully begs not to be sold, especially as she is bearing his child. Instead of being moved, Inkle uses the pregnancy to demand a higher price from the purchaser.

Well more than a century after Ligon published Yarico's tale, it was still being told in Europe. The first two heart wrenching prints come from two different editions the same book, Histoire philosophique et politique des établissemens et du commerce des Européens dans les deux Indes, published in Geneva. In them, the artist relates the image of a sailor handing off a nearly naked woman, chained and collared, to a man with a bag of money. The image was so important to the publishers that both were the frontispiece for Volume 3.

In the first, the Inkle is only vaguely reminiscent of British sailors. He wears breeches, a frock coat, and waistcoat, with only the bob wig and neckcloth to give a hint of his occupation. The crowd of men in the background look horrified at the sight, and even the slaver buying Yarico looks a little disconcerted. The sailor lurches forward and clasps the merchant's purse, apparently the only person unmoved by the scene.

The second version is of a higher quality, and bears the title Un Anglais de la Barbade, vend sa Maitresse (An Englishman from Barbados, sells his Mistress). In this version, the crowd behind the merchant are still upset, and Yarico turns away from her former lover weeping. Unlike many historical prints of the time, this one shows the sailor in clothing reminiscent of a bygone era. The artist gives Inkle a round hat with short brim and conical crown as the only contemporary nod to his profession.

Importantly, this print shifts the narrative from Inkle being a heartless villain to a fool. He accepts the purse, but his eyes are fixed with apparent regret on Yarico. The merchant is the demanding one in this scene, pushing the purse into Inkle's chest with his mouth open around what can be interpreted as a demand.

This second version had a greater impact on the late eighteenth century mind. It was reproduced in lower quality, and blatantly copied (with an update to the figures' clothing) for years afterward. Perhaps this messier depiction of Inkle was what inspired the abolitionist opera Inkle and Yarico that premiered seven years later in London, and continued to be performed for decades. In this version, Inkle's regret plagues him, and he eventually recants his ways, sacrificing his life in an attempt to save Yarico after he has condemned her. Versions of it are still performed to this day.