BERWICK, 74
Joined the Berwick in April 1793, Sir John Collins, Knight, captain, fitting in Portsmouth Harbour for the Mediterranean, and in May sailed with a division of the fleet under the Vice-Admiral Lord Hood, who had his flag on board the Victory, 100. On the passage the squadron captured a corvette. We arrived at Gibraltar, Vice-Admiral Hotham’s Division in company, and having taken in our water sailed for Toulon. When off Minorca we fell in with the Spanish fleet under Don Langara on a cruise. To the best of my recollection our fleet consisted of twenty sail of the line besides frigates, but several men of war joined after.
[The list of the fleet which follows has no authority, and has been frequently printed.]
When near Toulon Lord Hood made the signal to prepare for battle, and also the signal for a general chase which ended in the capture of the corvette L’Éclair. Saw the enemy’s fleet at anchor in the inner and outer roads. When sent in to reconnoitre, they would allow us to come as near as we liked; but the moment the ship was put about their forts would blaze away with red-hot shot; and we in the Berwick had nearly got into an awkward situation, which I shall speak of hereafter. In July while cruising off Toulon the fleet encountered a tremendous gale, and the old Berwick, who always bore the name of a bad sea boat, proved it on this occasion with a vengeance. First the bowsprit went, about two feet before the outer gammoning; bore up, and got the runners and tackles forward to secure the foremast. At daylight made the signal of distress, and parted company from the fleet. The rigging being new, it became so slack that we were obliged to set it up, with a very heavy sea running, which was done in a seaman-like manner; but mark what follows. After the lower rigging was set up, and while before the wind, the main sail, of all sails in the world, was set, and the ship hove to slap at once, by which she was nearly thrown on her beams ends. The main yard went in the slings, the main topmast and half the main top carried away, the fore mast sprung in two places, and the mizen mast in three; of the main-top men of one watch, seventeen in number, one was killed, another drowned, and several of the others severely hurt, but by falling on the splinter netting were fortunately saved. The wreck of the main yard had nearly knocked two ports into one on the main deck, while that of the main topmast got under the counter, damaged the copper, and had almost unshipped the rudder before it could be cleared, which was done with great difficulty. It is a fact that the ship rolled sixteen or eighteen feet of her fore yard in the water,[[85]] and laboured so dreadfully that on our arrival in port the oakum was found to have worked so much out of the seams, particularly under the counter, that it was astonishing we succeeded in reaching Gibraltar. I must also mention that the force of the wind was so great that it burst the lashings[[86]] of the jolly boat lying on the booms, and blew the boat away like a feather. So much for the Gulf of Lyons. I do not mean to throw blame on any one, but I cannot help thinking that the ship was somehow or other badly handled, to say nothing of her being a bad sea boat; and if she had not been as strong as wood and iron could make her, must certainly have paid a visit to Davy Jones’ locker.
We remained at Gibraltar several weeks in the New Mole, and enjoyed ourselves by going up to the old Porter house on Scud Hill[[87]] of an evening, and sometimes to the Junk Ships and the Swan; and then cruise about the town, which is not deficient in places of amusement. It was here I first observed the march of intellect; a fellow, whose name was Anthony Strico and kept a wine house, had over his door in large letters,
Tono Strico
Wino Houso.[[88]]
After the ship was refitted we proceeded to join the fleet at Toulon which had surrendered to Lord Hood during our absence. While off Minorca we were taken in a thundering squall that had almost done for the old Berwick a second time. Next day, fell in with a Spanish frigate dismasted; gave her some assistance which she seemed to want, as they appeared to be deficient in nautical knowledge, or, in other words, the vilest set of lubbers that ever were seen. They positively did not know how to get a jury mast up. On our arrival at Toulon we found Lord Hood with the British fleet and Don Langara with the Spanish; also some Neapolitan men of war. Landed our soldiers, which were part of the 69th regiment of foot doing duty as marines. Plenty of fighting going on in every direction, the Princess Royal and some other ships keeping up a constant fire against the enemy’s lines to prevent them throwing up batteries. We had some pleasant trips in our launch in carrying a load of eighteen and thirty-two pound shot to supply the Princess Royal while she was engaging, the shot from the enemy flying more than half a mile beyond us. Fortunately we escaped without injury. One of the lower-deck guns on board the Princess Royal or St. George—I forget which—burst and killed nine men and wounded twenty-seven.[[89]] We remained but a short time at Toulon, and then sailed to join Commodore Linzee at Tunis.
We had a delightful passage running along the Italian shore with a fine view of Elba, Gorgona, Pianoza, Monte Christo, Capraja, etc.
For here the muse so oft her harp has strung,
That not a mountain rears its head unsung.—Addison.
Stood over for Sardinia and put into Cagliari, the capital, where we found Commodore Linzee and squadron.
October 22, 1793.—Went on shore and dined in company with the Sardinian admiral and several great men of the island, who were very intelligent and gave us an account of the attack made by the French squadron, who were beaten off with loss (according to their account) of 5,000 men.[[90]] Visited the city, which has a university, and went to some of the convents to purchase articles from the nuns. Found the friars a set of jolly fellows who behaved to us with great civility, not only in this place but in every other port in the Mediterranean that we put into.
October 25.—Sailed from Cagliari in quest of some French frigates, but had not the good fortune to fall in with them. During the cruise before we put into Cagliari and joined the commodore, we fell in with six sail of the line who, not answering the private signal, were taken for a French squadron. It being late in the evening we made all sail and stood from them; they gave chase the whole of the night, but only two could come up with us, and they took good care not to come alongside, and well for them they did not; all our guns were loaded with round and double-headed shot, and our 68-pounders on the forecastle were crammed with grape and canister, and our fellows (two thirds of them Irish) were determined to give them a lesson that would never be forgotten. This they seemed to anticipate, as they kept hankering on the quarter until morning, when they hoisted Spanish colours; one of them sent a boat on board of us.
The officer seemed astonished when he saw our men at quarters, their black silk handkerchiefs[[91]] tied round their heads, their shirt sleeves tucked up, the crows and handspikes in their hands, and the boarders all ready with their cutlasses and tomahawks, that he told Sir John Collins they put him in mind of so many devils.
After the cruise we put into Tunis, and found lying there the Duquesne, French 74; and higher up in the bay, near the Goletta, her convoy, consisting of fifty sail of merchantmen with valuable cargoes; also the Spanish squadron mentioned above. Commodore Linzee with the following men of war anchored close to the Frenchman, and the Agamemnon near their convoy:—
| Alcide | 74 | Commodore Linzee; Captain Woodley |
| Berwick | 74 | Captain Sir John Collins |
| Illustrious | 74 | Captain T. L. Frederick |
| Agamemnon | 64 | Captain Horatio Nelson |
| Lowestoft | 32 | Captain Cunningham[[92]] |
| Nemesis | 28 | Captain Lord Amelius Beauclerk |
I must here mention that the Yankee-doodle[[93]] James in his Naval History takes no notice of this expedition, which is to be wondered at as the ‘Sea Serpent’ was never backward in finding fault, and here he missed a good opportunity. The Agamemnon and Lowestoft were sent, as I have stated, to watch the convoy, and the three seventy-fours anchored one abreast, another on the bow, and one on the quarter of the Duquesne, ready to bring her to action, and six sail of the line (Spanish) to assist in this great undertaking; but all this mighty preparation came to nothing. The cargoes were safely landed from the convoy; and the Duquesne, after laughing at us for several weeks and singing the Marseilles hymn morning and evening, with the English jack spread over her round house, got under way, and arrived safe at Toulon, which had been evacuated by the fleet and army; and all this because Tunis was a neutral port. Now everybody knew that before the squadron sailed, and also that Tunis was nothing less than a nest of thieves; besides, we were out of gunshot of their forts and might have taken the whole with the greatest ease imaginable.
We had a rugged-headed, squint-eyed boatswain’s mate, who early one morning passed the word for all those who were quartered on the main deck to come below and fight the lower-deck guns. He was instantly obeyed, and the people of their own accord were absolutely going to bring the French 74 to action, and the above boatswain’s mate as the head of the party was in the act of setting the example, when the second lieutenant snatched the match out of his hand just as he was going to fire. Lord Nelson, who commanded the Agamemnon, happened to come on board soon after, and when this was told him he seemed quite pleased: ‘For then,’ says he, ‘we must have taken them.’ If he had commanded, we certainly should have taken them,[[94]] and not have stayed wasting our time for months in the bay doing nothing.
Our squadron used to water near the Goletta, a small channel leading to the ancient harbour of Carthage, fortified on each side and a chain across. On the left of this channel they have a gun with marble shot of immense size; the diameter of the bore twenty two inches and a half. On the other side are a few wells dug in the sand, from which the squadron got their water. On one occasion I went in the launch to fill our casks, a messmate of mine (the present Captain Valobra) taking a trip with me; having given directions about filling, I proposed to cross the Goletta (which has a drawbridge over it) and take a look at the large fort they have close by. On getting into the interior, which is a square, we saw a door open and went into what appeared a guard room, from the number of arms tastefully arranged about the walls, and several Turks rolled up in blankets lying on the floor. Having examined the place we were going away, when one of the Turks, as I approached the door, caught hold of me by the collar and pushed me back. I did not relish this and tried to make the blackguard understand, but all to no purpose. However, I again made a movement to get out, when a young Turk, with a short stick that had something round like a ball fixed to the end of it, made a blow at my head which would certainly have done for me had I not stepped back in time. We had left our side arms in the launch and had nothing to defend ourselves against this ruffian. One of the Turks we heard say ‘Spagniolle!’ upon which Valobra called out ‘Angleise!’ Whether this had the effect to liberate us I know not; but an old withered Turk came up, and after a deal of altercation with the fellow who struck at me, he pointed to the door and showed us the way out, and glad enough we were of it. Having filled our casks we returned on board (the rascally Turks pelting us with stones as long as we were in reach), and made a complaint to Sir John Collins, who went on shore the next day to represent the business to the commandant of the fort, and this vagabond had the impudence to say we might think ourselves well off that we were not sent up the country and made slaves. Went with Lieutenant Shirley to see the ruins of Carthage.... Saw several remains of antiquity, broken columns, underground passages, pieces of frieze, and the remarkable arches supposed to be the stables of the elephants. I went into a room like a cellar and got a piece of the flooring, of beautiful green and white marble, which I brought home; but some thief in England stole it from me—the devil do him good with it. The ground about the ruins was covered with reptiles of almost every description, which made it dangerous to explore. I carried a piece of frieze several miles intending to bring it home also, but was obliged to leave it from fatigue. As Lieutenant Shirley, who was very tired, sat on a broken column, I observed it might have been the same that Caius Marius rested on when in exile and from which he made this memorable reply (to show the instability of human greatness) to him that was sent by the governor to warn him off: ‘Go,’ says he, ‘and say that thou hast seen Caius Marius sitting on the ruins of Carthage.’
A short time before we left Tunis the bey sent a present to the squadron, of bullocks, butter, poultry, scented candles and some otto of roses. We in the cockpit had some butter, poultry, and a scented candle or two; as for the otto of roses we could smell it near the wardroom, but not a drop could we see in the cockpit. However, we were more regaled with the scent of a seapie, made in a pitch kettle that contained, besides other delicacies, upwards of thirty fowls. We sat round the cauldron in the cockpit, like the witches in ‘Macbeth,’ and would not have exchanged this glorious mess for all the otto of roses belonging to the bey or his ministers. At the same time, the devil thank some people for their kindness in not paying the compliment; they might have sent us one small bottle to counteract the bilge water; but never mind; they, poor souls, are all dead; and most of us are alive notwithstanding. As for the butter, it was only fit to grease the topmasts, and for that purpose we resigned it. We had a few of the candles, made of beeswax and scented.
The bullocks were very small, and here I must relate a droll circumstance. Our purser’s steward was one that dearly loved grog, and it so happened that on the day the bullocks were slaughtered, he got beastly drunk. Some of the midshipmen seeing him in that situation in the first watch, lying near the steward room, agreed to sew him up in one of the bullocks’ hides, which was accordingly done. The horns being on, were fixed to a nicety on his head and fastened under the chin, firm as a rock. A little before twelve he came to himself and got up (for his legs and arms were free) and tried to get into the steward room, but the key was secured. He then began to bellow, just as the quartermaster came down to call the watch, and was knocking his horns against the bulk head, his tail near the cockpit ladder. The quartermaster, holding up his lantern, looked at him for some time in amazement; at last, letting it fall, he took to his heels, swearing that the devil was in the cockpit; while those who slept abaft on the lower deck jumped out of their hammocks and followed his example. ’Twas a most laughable sight; particularly so when the officer of the watch came down to see what was the matter and, evidently under the influence of fear, did not venture down the cockpit ladder until one of the midshipmen came up and said it was Colquhoun, the steward, transformed into a bullock. It had a good effect on the steward, as he was afraid ever after to bouse his jib up; and whenever he put his head up the cockpit ladder, those on the lower deck would sing out, ‘What’s become of your horns?’
Left Tunis for Porto Farino to get a supply of water for the fleet. The plague had made great ravages before our arrival, but had in some measure abated. This place is a Turkish arsenal, and several of their men of war were fitting out. A number of Neapolitan slaves were at work in the different storehouses; some of them could speak English, and gave us an interesting account of the conduct of their masters. I saw an old Turk, upwards of seventy, with a long stick in his hand thrashing several of the poor wretches. I could not refrain from telling him he was a damned old scoundrel; whether he understood or not, I cannot say, but he called out repeatedly, ‘Esau, Esau’; and Lieutenant Shirley bawling in his ear, ‘Will you have Isaac and Jacob also?’
Porto Farino is situated near the mouth of the Bagrada,[[95]] where Attilius Regulus, the Roman consul, lay encamped in the first Punic war, when the serpent attacked and destroyed several of his soldiers who came to the river to obtain water.... The ancient city of Utica, famous for the death of Cato in the civil war, was at no great distance from this port.
A short time before we sailed the Turkish governor paid a visit to the ship, with his retinue, among whom was the Turkish admiral—a fine looking fellow near seven feet high. We saluted the governor with eleven guns, and he minutely inspected every part of the ship and seemed highly delighted with the bread room, and also with the 68-pounders we had on the forecastle. One of his attendants spoke English, and said he was in England at the time the Foudroyant was captured by the Monmouth,[[96]] and that he lived at Wapping. We suspected he was an Englishman although he said his name was Mustapha.
Sailed from this port to cruise off the Island of Pantalaria. You that are fond of romance are aware that in this island the famous captain of banditti met his death; all Italy speaks of him, from the Apennines to the Straits of Messina, and the shepherds of the Sicilian vales sing the praises of the valoroso Capitano Rinaldini. But they did not (in this island) sing the praises of little Tommy Yates, our purser, who went on shore to purchase some articles, and put the whole island under quarantine when they found out we had just left the Turkish port; and if Tommy had gone on shore the second time he probably would have left his bones there.
We encountered off this island the heaviest gale I ever was in; particularly a squall that lasted from seven bells in the middle watch until two bells in the morning watch. The storm staysails were blown from the bolt rope, and the ship during this prodigious gust lay with her main deck guns in the water. The sea was one white sheet, and during the whole course of my servitude I never witnessed anything equal to it; and many who had been in the hurricane of 1780 in the West Indies, declared that this squall was equally terrible. After the cruise we put into Trapani, the ancient Drepanum. It was here Aeneas landed, according to Virgil, when the fight with the gauntlet took place between Dares and Entellus, and it was also famous for that between Hercules and Eryx, in which the latter was killed. It was a noted place in the first Punic war for military events, as that of the defeat of the Roman fleet under the Consul Claudius Pulcher, wherein (according to Valerius Maximus) the Romans lost 90 galleys, 8,000 men killed or drowned, and 20,000 taken prisoners by the Carthaginians without the loss of a man or a single galley on their side.[[97]]
I must here relate an anecdote which will show how careful people ought to be when joking with those whom they think don’t understand their language. The day after we arrived at Trapani, near thirty Sicilian clergymen came on board to see the ship, and while on the quarter deck making their observations, Palmer, our fourth lieutenant, in a frolicsome mood, went up to one of them and, while bowing and scraping, said, ‘Pray, sir, were you ever knocked down with a fathom of ——?’ when, to Palmer’s horror and amazement, the other answered in good English, ‘Never in my life, sir,’ and then addressed his companions, who cast their eyes upon Palmer and began to laugh at his expense. This he could not stand, and in going down the quarter deck ladder declared he would sooner face the devil than a Trapani parson.
The islands Maretimo, Levanzo, and Faviguano are near this place; in the last-mentioned island the Turkish prisoners are sent as slaves. We saw several of them at work in the moat, one of them a man of prodigious stature. These islands were the ancient Ægades, where Lutatius Catulus, the Roman consul, defeated the Carthaginian fleet and put an end to the first Punic War.[[97]]
Before we left Trapani we went to see a church, or rather cemetery, where several rows of dead bodies were placed in niches one over the other. They were naked, some standing up and others lying at full length, and presenting an appearance truly horrible; we understood they belonged to a particular order. While lying here, a mutiny took place among the ship’s company, in consequence of some bullocks that were anything but fat being sent for the use of the people. Now John Bull, having more regard for fat and lean, swore he’d be damned if he’d have anything to do with skin and bone. A survey was then held and the report stated that as no other meat could be obtained, double allowance of this lean kine should be served out to make up the deficiency; but all to no purpose; and John Bull, forgetting his duty and only thinking of his maw, broke out into open rebellion. Some of the scoundrels were put in irons, but were immediately released by the others and the irons thrown overboard. They then assembled on the lower deck, got the hammocks down, and a breastwork made in the bay, with the two foremost guns pointed aft. The officers at last prevailed on them to return to their duty, and, Sir John Collins being an easy man, no examples were made. Sailed for Leghorn, where we arrived in Carnival time. We were not long at an anchor before the ship was surrounded by boats with musicians playing fine Italian airs and women singing most delightfully.
Several men of war were in the roads; among which was the Aquilon, 32, with Prince Augustus Frederick (now Duke of Sussex) on his travels. Got leave with some difficulty to go on shore with two messmates, Graves and Valobra; saw the brazen men so much spoken of, consisting of the father and three sons (Turks) in bronze chained to the four corners of a pedestal, with a marble statue of a Tuscan prince on the top. Visited the Jews’ synagogue, which was well worth seeing, being a magnificent temple; also the churches, opera house and many other places, with fine paintings and statuary, and had glorious fun at the Carnival, where we met our little purser, Tommy Yates, with a mask and a black domino on, cutting such capers that Heraclitus would have wiped away his tears had he seen him, and joined in the laugh. He was a wet little soul and generous to a degree, and everyone respected him.
Early next morning, after a sumptuous breakfast, we set off for Pisa, about fourteen or fifteen miles from Leghorn, in one of the gilt coaches with horses that, had they seen the devil would not have taken fright. We were three hours going the distance and had full time to observe the beautiful prospect along the Vale of Arno. About ten we entered Pisa, where they were celebrating the Carnival in a magnificent style, and we were told that six hundred coaches were in the procession. The prince was among the number and appeared much gratified. Pelting with sugar plums is customary on this occasion; and one of our midshipmen pelted Lord Hervey in his coach; and when told it was the British ambassador, and that he looked very angry, he immediately hove another volley at Lady Hervey, observing that she looked better tempered than his Excellency.
We spent a very pleasant evening at the theatre, and next morning went to the cathedral—a gorgeous fabric, with gates of bronze highly decorated with passages from scripture in compartments in basso relievo. We also saw the baptistery with a whispering gallery, and the campo santo, with the paintings on the wall in fresco round the cloisters, the work of the oldest masters. One painting I well recollect, representing the Last Judgment—the work I believe of Buffalmaco, who in this painting drew all his friends going to heaven, and his enemies going to the devil; the faces of all being an exact resemblance of those of both parties. The tombs of some of the masters are at the foot of their works.[[98]] The campo santo is an oblong figure, and the earth in the centre was brought from the Holy Land some centuries ago, and people of religious celebrity are here interred.
We next visited the Observatory and Botanical Gardens, and then to the top of the Leaning Tower, 187 feet high, and whose summit overlooks the base fifteen feet. One of our party began ringing the bells, which brought up a posse of friars; and Graves, pointing to one of them, a very fat man, exclaimed, ‘I’ll be damned if that fellow is not fitted for foreign service with six months’ provisions in his guts.’ I suppose they did not understand him, as they behaved with great civility. Some in this country, who I could mention, would have behaved in a different manner. There’s an old saying
That Pisa looks ill
If you sit still.
This was not the case with us, as we were constantly on the move and saw everything and enjoyed ourselves greatly, particularly among the masks while parading the Lung’ Arno. The day before our departure we took a long and delightful walk upon the banks of the Arno and were within a few miles of the spot where Catiline and his whole army were destroyed 63 B.C., in the consulship of Marcus Tullius Cicero and Caius Antonius Nepos.
Pisa has a university and formerly contained 100,000 inhabitants, but has greatly fallen off and grass grows in the streets. It contains many churches and other superb buildings, particularly the Grand Duke’s palace in the Lung’ Arno, the Hospital, and Exchange. There are three bridges over the Arno, one of them of marble. Several Roman antiquities are to be seen. It was our intention to have gone to Lucca and from thence to Florence; but all sublunary things are vain, as we were ordered to sea sooner than was expected, and returned to Leghorn after five days’ absence, where we dined at an excellent ordinary at one of the best houses in the city. We had a strong party of English officers at the dinner, some of whom got rather merry before the cloth was off the table, and catching hold of the waiter they rolled him in the cloth with plates and dishes, the fellow roaring out all the while to no purpose. One midshipman took a loaf and let if fall out of the window (we were on the second floor) upon the jaw of an Italian in the street, which floored him, while others pelted legs and wings of fowls at those looking out of the opposite windows; but to their kind forbearance everything was taken as a joke and only laughed at. Would this have been the case in England?—where every hole and corner has a board threatening prosecution, and if you pass two or three stopping in the street, their conversation will be about law, hanging, or trade.
Sallied out in the evening and went to a house in Scratch Alley—you that have been at Leghorn I daresay know the place well. In the middle of this lane lived an old woman of enormous size, who was named the Boatswain of Scratch Alley. Saw a figure there I never shall forget—a fellow dressed as a lady, with a fine cap trimmed with blue ribbon and a white frock on, a face like Vulcan with a long black beard. When he came in the room we were sitting in, he danced a fandango and cut such astonishing capers that my old messmate Vosper said drily, ‘Gardner, if that fellow is not the devil he must be his near relation.’ The next evening three of us took a cruise, and, it being very late before we returned, our lodging was shut up and with difficulty we got entrance to a house near the Mole. The accommodations vile in the extreme; only one bed, with sheets as if a sweep had slept in them. At this time it began to rain with drops as big as pistol balls, which obliged us to stay where we were. However, we sat on the chairs, but got very little sleep for the rats and people passing and re-passing to a sewer at the end of the room. The morning luckily turned out fine, and after clearing our uniforms of a few bugs that thought fit to billet themselves on us without being invited, we gladly started from this infernal hotel to breathe the fresh air. Went to Montenero, where the learned Smelfungus has a monument near his remains.[[99]]
Having received orders to sail immediately and join the squadron under Vice-Admiral Hotham off Toulon, we first put into St. Fiorenzo for a short time. Went to see the Mortella tower that beat off the Fortitude, 74, and Juno frigate; the former ship had upwards of sixty killed and wounded, and was on fire in several places from the red-hot shot. This tower had but two guns; one of them was dismounted during the attack and defended by twenty Frenchmen, only one of whom was killed. The tower was taken by mounting some guns on a spot that overlooked it.[[100]]
Sailed from St. Fiorenzo and joined the squadron. Our captain, Sir John Collins, being ill, we had Captain William Shield acting. Sir John soon after departed this life and was committed to the deep. Sixteen minute guns were fired at the funeral to denote the number of years he had been a post captain. Sir John was a well-meaning man, but fractious from long illness. He died with the gout in his head and stomach. The ship’s company paid respect to his memory; they divided their black silk handkerchiefs,[[101]] and wore one part round their hats and the other round their arms, and requested they might see the corpse before the interment; which request was granted, and they walked through the cabin in ranks and bowed to the coffin while passing, and most of them in tears—a sight truly impressive. Billy Shield remained with us about a month after Sir John’s death, and then George Campbell, as good a fellow as ever lived, took command.
I have already stated our reconnoitring the enemy’s fleet in the roads. Out of many instances I shall mention one that had nearly been of serious consequences. Having stood in with a fine breeze, the enemy never fired a shot until we hove in stays. At this time it fell on a sudden a dead calm, and we were within gunshot. They then began to blaze away from all their forts, the red-hot shot flying in every direction. I was looking out of the gunroom port when a shot came right under our counter, which made the water hiss and had nearly struck the rudder. At this time things looked queer, all the boats were hoisted out and began to tow, but still we drifted in, the shot flying full half a mile beyond us, when luckily a breeze came off the land and saved the Berwick from being sunk or blown up, for she never would have been taken. Fortunately we had none killed or wounded, which was astonishing, as the shot flew like hail. Captain Campbell soon after left the ship, being appointed to the Terrible, 74, and Captain George Henry Towry succeeded him.
Our squadron under Admiral Hotham consisted of eight sail of the line, two of them three-deckers (the Britannia, 100, and St. George, 98) and two frigates; and, after several weeks’ cruise, the French fleet put to sea from Toulon with seven sail of the line, one of them a three-decker, and six or seven frigates or smaller vessels. Now, mark me, several of those ships had been put down as burnt at the evacuation of Toulon, but now had the impudence to rise from their ashes like the Phœnix,[[102]] or like the snake that had slept the winter, but on the return of spring appears renewed in youth and with new fury burns:
Qualis ubi in lucem coluber, mala gramina pastus,
Frigida sub terra tumidum quem bruma tegebat,
Nunc positis novus exuviis, nitidusque juventa,
Lubrica convolvit sublato pectore terga,
Arduus ad solem, et linguis micat ore trisulcis.—Aeneid.
June 1794.—We were at dinner when the drum beat to quarters, and on going upon deck saw the ‘Resurgam Squadron’ coming out, under topsails and foresail, on the starboard tack, in line of battle, the Sans Culotte,[[103]] 136 guns, their leading ship; the wind westerly; our squadron standing in on the larboard tack, and to the best of my recollection about three leagues from the enemy; and, had we stood on and tacked, we should have got in their wake. But our admiral made a signal—it being at this time evening—that a movement would take place after dusk. Now, what do you think this movement was? Why, to bear up and sail large! ‘Tell it not in Gath, nor publish it in the streets of Askalon.’ The Meleager, 32, was left behind to watch the enemy. All this appeared strange; but the admiral, we supposed, knew
What was what and that as high
As metaphysic wit could fly.
Now we had an opinion also, and that opinion was that the French might have been brought to action that evening; at any rate we should have prevented them from getting back to the roads, and could have attacked them in the morning if a night action was considered hazardous. It was said the admiral was fearful they should escape us and throw relief into Calvi, at that time besieged. Whatever was the reason, off we set as if hell kicked us and joined Lord Hood—I think the next day; and then, as brave as Hercules, crowded sail with fourteen or fifteen sail of the line and got sight of them the day after, in the morning, working in near Gourjean Bay,[[104]] where they anchored in the afternoon under the forts. Lord Hood made every preparation to attack them, and a general chase with some hopes of success took place. We were ordered to attack the fort on the starboard hand until the fleet had passed, and then to follow; and the Illustrious, 74, was ordered against the frigates in the other quarter in shore, near the other line-of-battle ships. But all this ended in disappointment, as towards night the wind blew strong off the land and the attack was given up in the morning, and we were detached with the sick to St. Fiorenzo, and then to Calvi to assist in the siege. It was here that Lord Nelson lost his eye and Captain Serocold his life. We remained but a short time at Calvi and then returned to St. Fiorenzo. The Yankee historian (James) gives a very incorrect account of this; in fact, he says little or nothing about our squadron under Admiral Hotham when the French put to sea; which appears strange, as this calumniator always felt happy in finding fault with naval officers, and here he missed a good opportunity.
While cruising in the Gulf of Genoa we picked up parts of the booms belonging to the Ardent, 64, who had been missing a long time; and from the appearance of the spars it was evident she was blown up with all hands,[[105]] as nothing has been heard of her since. It was a sad business that we did not bring the French to action the day they left Toulon; the disappointment was bitterly felt by those who expected prize money and promotion, and here a glorious opportunity was thrown away in the most unaccountable manner. For personal bravery Admiral Hotham stood pre-eminent; but it has been said he was not fit to command in chief, but very able as a second. In the American war he greatly distinguished himself, particularly when he was commodore on board the Preston, 50, he engaged and would have taken a French 84,[[106]] one of D’Estaing’s squadron, which a gale of wind coming suddenly on alone prevented; and the public accounts respecting this action say, ‘Now for the glory and honour of the British army.’
While speaking of the honour of the British navy, I must say a word or two more about the seamen and marines. When Lord Hood besieged Bastia he proposed to General Dundas, who commanded the troops, to make a joint attack; but the general thought it too hazardous. Now Lord Hood had a different opinion,
and while General Dundas
And his eighteen manœuvres sat still on the grass
he attacked the place with the seamen and marines who covered themselves with glory and carried all the works, and Bastia was obliged to surrender.
Having letters of recommendation to Lord Hood and to Admiral Goodall, I went on board the Victory and was told by the secretary (McArthur), that several were before me on the list for promotion; but if I would take my chance his lordship would remove me to the Victory immediately. This I thought would be of little service; and as the Gorgon, 44, was under orders for England I requested to be sent on board of her and try my interest at home. My request being granted, Captain Towry in the kindest manner recommended me to Captain Wallis of the Gorgon, which kindness I shall always remember, and am sorry that the service has lost by his death so good an officer. He served with his Majesty[[107]] in the Andromeda and Valiant.
Before leaving the Berwick I must mention a few droll hands that belonged to her; and first I shall bring forward old Bell, the mate of the hold. We pressed him and several mates of merchantmen out of a cartel from Marseilles to Gibraltar, and put them on the quarter deck. He was a hard-drinking man and also a hard-working man. We had a set on board full of fun; and when old Bell was half seas over, they used to paint his face with red ochre, his eyebrows blacked, large moustache, with a flaxen wig made from the fag ends of the tiller rope; a cocked hat over all, tied under the chin; his shirt off and his body painted like an ancient Briton. In this costume I have seen him chasing the midshipmen through the tier with a drawn sword, a fit subject for a pencil like Hogarth’s.
Next to him was old Collier, who drank like a fish, and when drunk used to sing the Thirty-fourth Psalm and prognosticate that the ship would founder with all hands. They used to make fast his shirt sleeves at the wrist and then haul the shirt over his head, so that he could not clear his hands. In this situation he would be powdered and painted, with a red night cap on his head, and placed alongside of old Bell, while the whole cockpit would be in a roar.
We had a little slovenly surgeon’s mate whose name was Vag. The midshipmen annoyed him sadly by calling out Vag-Veg-Vig-Vog-Vug, while others in a cockney cadence would sing out Wig-Wag-Wog, which enraged him almost to madness. I happened to come into the berth where he was sitting at a time they were calling out as above, when he, without any provocation on my part, snatched up the snuffers and with the sharp end stabbed me in the chest and then run a-muck after the rest, who were glad enough to steer clear of him.
Some of our lads had a custom of taking an afternoon’s nap, particularly Graves, who went with me to Pisa. The others, always on the watch for mischief, would clap a spritsail yard upon his nose. This was done by cutting a notch on the outside of a piece of hoop and bending it so as to form a forceps and then put it on the nose like a spring. The first time it was fixed he started up and swore lustily that a rat (for we had hundreds of them on board) had seized him by the nose. On another occasion some wicked fellow made a curious mark on his forehead with caustic that remained for several weeks.
Our chaplain was a learned gentleman and always going on shore to make researches after antiquities. When we sailed from Toulon he was left behind; and on making his escape (so we were told) when the enemy entered, he got upon a wall where a rope ladder was placed about ten feet high. When he got on the top the ladder gave way and he had no means of alighting on the other side, and was afraid to jump down. In this predicament a party of French came up and one of them let fly a stone, which fortunately for him first struck the wall and then hit him on the hip, and canted him the right way; and by that means he luckily made his escape to the boats with little hurt, but damnably frightened. In the gale of July 1793, when we carried away our main topmast and half the main top, an arm chest full of black pieces[[108]] fell out of the top with thundering sound upon the quarter deck, and several of the muskets stuck with their muzzles in the deck, which bent some of the barrels. Old Billy Chantrell, our first lieutenant, taking up one of them, said with a grin, ‘I shall take this home; it will do when I go a-shooting to kill sparrows round a hayrick.’ When it fell it was within an inch of his head, and he was knocked down with a piece of the chest which broke through the netting. I passed a very happy life during the time I belonged to the Berwick and parted with many valuable friends with deep regret. Our first lieutenant (Chantrell), Mr. Chas. Duncan, the master, and Tomlinson, the clerk, left the ship at the same time and joined the Gorgon as supernumeraries for a passage to England; and also two of my old shipmates, Yetts and Allardice, formerly of the Edgar, invalided home, which made the Gorgon very agreeable to me. The following are the names of the officers:—
Sir John Collins, Knt., Captain.
Dead. A good man but fractious from severe illness; he commanded the Ruby, 64, detached from the grand fleet at the relief of Gibraltar, 1782, being one of eight sail of the line sent to reinforce the fleet in the West Indies. On the passage she captured, after a smart action, the Solitaire, a French 64, for which Captain Collins was knighted.
Wm. Shield, Esq., Captain.
A retired rear-admiral. [Died 1842.—Marshall, iii. 89.]
Geo. Campbell, Esq., Captain.
Dead. A vice-admiral; a better fellow never existed. [As a rear-admiral, second in command under Nelson off Toulon 1803–4. Died, admiral and G.C.B., in 1821.]
Geo. Henry Towry, Esq., Captain.
Dead [1808]. In him the service lost a most worthy officer.
William Chantrell, 1st Lieutenant.
Dead. See Barfleur.
William Bullock, 2nd Lieutenant.
Dead. A commander; well-meaning and droll.
Chas. Stewart [or Stuart], 3rd Lieutenant.
Dead [1814]. A post captain [1796]; gouty and proud.
Nisbet Palmer, 4th Lieutenant.
Dead [1811]. He commanded the Alacrity, an 18-gun brig, in the Mediterranean, and was captured by a French brig of the same force. In the action Captain Palmer was wounded and died soon after. James in his Naval History [v. 248 seq.] gives a sad account of this. He says, ‘Capt. Palmer was only wounded in the finger, that he ordered the colours to be struck to an enemy of equal force, and that his death was occasioned by a locked jaw.’ In justice to the memory of Captain Palmer it must be recollected that the Alacrity was weakly manned—a great number of her crew being absent in prizes. The Yankee historian must have known this, but he had not the generosity to state it. [James does state it; but nevertheless comments very severely on the conduct of Palmer; not unmindful, perhaps, of the fact that by the death of the captain, he was commanding officer of the Berwick when captured on March 7, 1795.]
Thomas Shirley, 5th Lieutenant.
Dead. Half mad, but good-natured.
Chas. Duncan, Master.
A superannuated master attendant; a very good man.
[John] Dodgson, Surgeon.
Dead. A worthy fellow.
Thos. L. Yates, Purser.
Dead. Generous and thoughtless.
[Alexander John] Scott, Chaplain.
A Doctor of Divinity; was with Lord Nelson on board the Victory at Trafalgar. [Died 1840.—D.N.B.]
[Hector] Tause, Gunner.
Dead. Crabbed.
Philip Myers, Carpenter.
Dead. A droll fellow.
[Joseph] Kemble, Boatswain.
Uncertain. A snappish cur.
Edward Hutchinson, Mate.
A commander; a good officer; a good navigator; a good seaman and a most worthy messmate. [Captain, retired, 1840; died 1851.—O’Byrne.]
Robt. Tucker, Mate.
A commander; a good seaman, but given to drinking. [Died, retired captain, 1846.—O’Byrne.]
J. A. Gardner, Mate.
A commander.
Wm. Vosper, Signal midshipman.
Lieutenant of the Royal Asylum, Greenwich Hospital. We were at three schools together at Gosport, and in two ships; a very able officer and seaman.
James Valobra, Midshipman.
A commander; a very worthy fellow. [Died 1861.—O’Byrne.]
Augustus Collins, Midshipman; son of the captain.
Dead. I believe a commander.
John Graves, Midshipman.
Dead. A lieutenant. Poor Jack was a worthy fellow.
James Galloway, Midshipman.
A commander [1806], out-pension. [Died 1846.—Marshall, x. 345; O’Byrne.]
John Lawrence, Midshipman.
A post captain [1817]; C.B. [Died 1849.—Marshall, viii. 123; O’Byrne.]
[Richard] Scovell, Midshipman.
Killed in battle.
[Nicholas] Le Bair, Midshipman.
Poor fellow! was taken in the Berwick, and died in French prison. [DD. in the pay-book, April 19, 1795. Toulon.]
Alex. Mackenzie, Midshipman.
Dead [1825]. A post captain. This man, when he was a midshipman, used to sneak after the lieutenants; when made a lieutenant, sneaking after the captains, and when made a captain, was at his old tricks, sneaking after the admirals. Had he lived to be made a flag officer, he would have sneaked after the devil.—[Marshall, vii. 75.]
John Rose, Midshipman.
A commander; a good fellow.
[William] Barber, Midshipman.
Dead. A lieutenant; a good fellow.
[Thomas] Pitt, Midshipman.
Uncertain. I believe a master.
[Thomas] Hewlett, Midshipman.
A master; I believe dead.
[John] Bell, Mate of the hold.
Uncertain. A droll fellow; drank hard.
[Walter] Dempster, Midshipman.
Uncertain. A quiet, good fellow.
[John] Collier, Midshipman.
Uncertain. Good natured; drank hard.
Lord Proby, Midshipman.
Dead [1804]. A post captain. [William Allen Proby, eldest son of the first Earl of Carysfort.]
John Lambrick, Midshipman.
A commander.—[O’Byrne.]
Wm. McCulloch, Midshipman.
Dead [1825]. A post captain [1814]; a smart officer.—[Marshall, vii. 398.]
John Briggs, 1st Assistant Surgeon.
A surgeon R.N.; a most worthy gentleman.
[Henry] Vagg, 3rd Assistant Surgeon.
Uncertain. A sloven; Vig-Vag-Vog-Vug.