BRUNSWICK, 74

This flat-floored tub that rolled like the devil,

Was planned by Black Dick in an hour most evil.

In April 1801 I was appointed to the Brunswick in Portsmouth harbour and did duty as first lieutenant until the senior officer made his appearance, which was not until I had fitted the ship out. This officer was my old shipmate, Jack Key, formerly of the Barfleur, and one totally unfit for the situation. In consequence, Captain George Hopewell Stephens, who commanded the ship, was obliged to apply to the admiralty for an officer senior to Key, and Emanuel Hungerford was appointed first lieutenant, Captain Stephens expressing his regret at the circumstance, observing that it was a hard case but that he would do everything in his power to serve me. He was as good as his word, and I found him through life a sincere friend. Hoisted the flag (red at the mizen) of Rear Admiral John Holloway, as junior port admiral, and received orders to proceed without loss of time to Spithead; and having struck the flag, sailed to join the North Sea fleet under Admiral Dickson, who had his flag (blue at the main) on board the Blenheim, 74. After cruising several weeks and putting into Yarmouth Roads occasionally, we were next ordered to join the grand fleet under Admiral Cornwallis (Billy Blue) off Brest blockading the French fleet until the negotiations for peace; when, in consequence of the French sending a squadron to the West Indies, our admiral detached from the grand fleet five sail of the line in October 1801 for the same destination. The squadron consisted of the following men of war:—

Goliath74Captain Essington, as commodore
Captain74Captain C. Boyles
Elephant74Captain Thos. Foley
Brunswick74Captain Geo. Hopewell Stephens
Ganges74Captain Fremantle

We had a pleasant passage down the trades and made Deseada some time in November, and had a beautiful view of the West India Islands; and in about a week after making Deseada we arrived at Port Royal, Jamaica, and found lying there the following men of war:—

Sans Pareil84Rear-Admiral Montagu—Captain Jas. Katon
Carnatic74Captain H. W. Bayntun
Cumberland74Captain Penrose
America64A hulk
Admiral de Vries56A cooperage
Abergavenny54A guard-ship
Vengeance44A French frigate: a prize
Melampus36Captain Thos. Le M. Gosselin, etc.

We remained about ten weeks in sweet Port Royal harbour, until the arrival of Rear-Admiral Sir John Thomas Duckworth, K.B., as commander-in-chief, who had his flag (red at the mizen) on board the Leviathan, 74, and then sailed with a small squadron to cruise off the Island of Navasa, Cape Tiburon, etc., for several weeks under Rear-Admiral Montagu. In 1802 (I don’t remember the month) Rear-Admiral George Campbell arrived with the fleet from England, which cut a very fine appearance.[[149]] The like had not been since the days of Rodney, viz.:—

Leviathan74{Rear-Admiral Duckworth, K.B.
{Captain Richard D. Dunn
Sans Pareil84{Rear-Admiral Montagu
{Captain Jas. Katon
Temeraire98{Rear-Admiral Geo. Campbell
{Captain [C. Eyles][[150]]
Princess Royal98Captain
Formidable98Captain [Rich. Grindall][[150]]
Carnatic74Captain
Cumberland74Captain Penrose
Goliath74Captain Essington (then Brisbane)
Spencer74Captain [Henry D’E. Darby][[150]]
Captain74Captain C. Boyles
Ganges74Captain Fremantle
Elephant74Captain T. Foley (then Dundas)
Brunswick74Captain Geo. H. Stephens
Vengeance74Captain Duff
Audacious74Captain S. Peard
Orion74Captain Oliver
Edgar74Captain Otway
Bellerophon74Captain Loring
Robust74Captain Hon. Alan H. Gardner
Resolution74Captain
Majestic74Captain D. Gould
Theseus74Captain John Bligh
Zealous74Captain S. H. Linzee
Warrior74Captain Chas. Tyler
Powerful74Captain Sir Francis Laforey, Bart.
Bellona74Captain Thos. Bertie
Vanguard74Captain Chas. Inglis
Defence74Captain Lord H. Paulett
Abergavenny54A guard-ship
America64A hulk
Admiral De Vries54A cooperage
Hindostan54A store-ship
Vengeance44A prize
Decade36Captain Rutherford
Melampus36Captain Gosselin
Trent36Captain Perkins
Naiad or Néréide36Captain Mends
Æolus32Captain Walker
Druid32Captain
Thisbe or Dido (?)28Captain

And other frigates I do not remember.

Pelican18Captain Geo. McKinlay
Calypso18Captain
Lark18Captain
Raven18Captain James Sanders

Came into Port Royal the Française, 36, French frigate, to purchase different articles for Madame Le Clerc, the wife of the commander-in-chief of the French army at St. Domingo, and sister of Napoleon (then first consul of France). A court martial was held on Captain Thomas New for the loss of his ship,[[151]] on which charge he was acquitted. During our cruise off St. Domingo we could observe the devastation occasioned by the war with the French and the blacks; several plantations and villages on fire. At this time sickness began to make its appearance in the fleet, and the Brunswick had 287 men on the sick list, and buried a great many. The Vengeance, 44, a prize, tailed on shore and many lost their lives in endeavouring to get her off, particularly the party of thirty-four from the Brunswick, the greater part of whom died; and this for an old French frigate not worth repair, being rotten and useless.

A short time before we arrived, the Topaze, 36, on a cruise, buried all hands except fifty-five; the captain (Church) and all the officers died, and the ship was brought in by the gunner. Eight sail of the line having been surveyed and ordered home, we were one of the lucky squadron. Each ship was directed to take on board four tons of iron hoops lying at a place called Greenwich; and our launch took several trips for this precious cargo; the thermometer generally 112,[[152]] and I have to remember many damnable roastings I got in grubbing for rusty hoops not worth their carriage. So much for the wisdom of Sir John. What could induce him to think of such a thing was only known to himself. Everyone at first thought it a hoax until they took the trip. I have heard many men say how dearly they liked the West Indies; the heat was so fine and conducive to health. Much good may it do them; and I, for one, shall never envy them taking up their quarters with Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego.

The day before we left Port Royal happened to be sweet May Day and I shall never forget it. The squadron ordered home had to send as many of their stores as they could spare to the dockyard. I had to tow our spare topmasts and several spars, and with great fatigue got them landed and put into store; the heat beyond description; so much so that near thirty of the blacks belonging to the yard were taken ill and sent to the hospital. Captain Stephens was one of those who liked the West Indies, and coming into the yard at this time, when not a breath of air was stirring, I pointed out to him some fowls that had taken their station as well as myself under an archway, with their wings drooping and their bills open gasping for breath. ‘Sir,’ says I, ‘the fowls wax warm although indigenous, and don’t appear so comfortable in this fine climate as might be expected.’ ‘Let us be off,’ says he, ‘for there’s no standing this.’

As several of our men had to receive extra pay for work they had been doing, I had to stay a considerable time in consequence of some of the Jacks-in-office waiting to get change to settle with our men; and I had a hot dispute with one of them (a Mr. Bull), who felt much hurt at my saying ‘What a cow you are to keep us in this infernal oven until our faces are the colour of your own (he was a man of colour)—bad luck to you.’

A short time before we knew of our being ordered home I went to dine on board the Elephant with Lyford, the first lieutenant (my old messmate in the Blonde). They expected to be sent home, and were so sure, that Captain Peers of the marines, and Jones, the purser, said how happy they should be to take any letters I had to send to England, and would be certain to call on my friends as soon as the ship arrived. Poor fellows, little did they think that instead of going home their bones would be left at the Palisades. I am grieved to say that out of the whole mess only two or three returned. I was taken ill the day I dined with them, and I can truly say that I feel the effects of the wretched climate while I am stating this.

On the 2nd of May we left Port Royal and for two or three days were becalmed in sight of the accursed harbour. At last we joined Rear-Admiral Campbell off Cape Tiburon. On our sick list being shown to the admiral he seemed astonished at the number, and when he found it was so swelled with yellow fever patients he ordered our boat off immediately and would not suffer any communication with our ship. We remained cruising with the squadron for a short time, and then left the fleet for England with the following men of war:—

Bellona74Captain Thos. Bertie, commodore
Powerful74Captain Sir Francis Laforey, Bart.
Defence74Captain Lord Harry Paulett
Zealous74Captain Samuel Hood Linzee
Brunswick74Captain Geo. Hopewell Stephens
Edgar74Captain Robert Waller Otway
Orion74Captain Oliver
Vengeance74Captain Duff

Went through the Crooked Island passage and parted company with the commodore, who, with five sail of the line, stood to the eastward and left the Powerful, Brunswick, and Edgar or Orion (I forget which) to get home as they could, being bad sailers. But Sir Francis Laforey, in the Powerful, knew well what he was about and stood to the northward. We had dreadful weather near Bermuda for three days, but moderate after, and when on the Banks of Newfoundland altered our course for the Channel and got there a few hours before the flying squadron, who we joined, and soon after arrived at Spithead after a passage of nearly two months, and went into harbour, where the Brunswick was paid off in July 1802.

But before closing I must relate a few occurrences, beginning with the captain. This gentleman was first lieutenant of the Janus, 44 (upon two decks) commanded by Captain Glover in the American war, and was one of the small squadron under the late Admiral Cornwallis, who at this time was captain of the Lion, 64, in the action with the French under Lamotte-Picquet,[[153]] who had a much superior force. As the action commenced, Captain Glover (who had been ill some time) died, and Lieutenant Stephens fought the ship in a manner that will do eternal honour to his memory. He was opposed in the line to a French 74 and fairly beat her out of her station. When the battle was over he went on board the commodore and reported the death of Captain Glover, and that he had died below, as the surgeon had reported his being unable to be brought on deck. Now Captain Glover had been spoken of before as not having exerted himself so well as was expected; and Cornwallis (who was a friend of his) observed to Lieutenant Stephens that he ought to have let his captain die on the quarter deck, as he well knew what had been said of him on a former occasion; and notwithstanding the surgeon’s report that he could not be removed from his cot, he never forgot it. This account I had from Captain Stephens; and when we joined the grand fleet off Brest under Admiral Cornwallis, we had not been there two hours before he made to us the signal of disapprobation for what in fact the ship ahead of us was to blame for. Says Captain Stephens to me, ‘Gardner, did I not tell you that Billy Blue would hold me in his kind remembrance? See how he begins to compliment me before the whole fleet.’

Captain Stephens was a brave and meritorious officer, an excellent sailor, and a master in naval tactics. I found him, both on board and on shore, a sincere friend. He applied for me to go as his first lieutenant when he was appointed to command the Captain, 74, but from ill health I was unable to join. He died a rear-admiral of the white, lamented by numerous friends.

I shall never forget the morning before we took our departure from the grand fleet off the Black Rocks. The signal was made to put ourselves under the orders of the Goliath, 74, with the ships I have already mentioned, and we imagined it was to go into port as the first division to be paid off. I had the middle watch and had turned in, when about five our master thundered at my door and calling out, ‘Here’s news for you, you ragged-headed rascal; turn out and hurrah for the back of the Point and Capstan Square! paid off by the hokey, in a few days.’ He then began singing:—

Jolly tars, have you heard of the news?

There’s peace both by land and by sea;

Great guns are no more to be used,

Disbanded we all are to be.

Oh! says the admiral, The wars are all over;

Says the captain, My heart it will break;

Oh! says the bloody first lieutenant,

What course of life shall I take?

He then began to cut such capers that I thought he was mad. For my own part, I was in high spirits and got up and roused out several more who had not heard of the good news, when unfortunately a cutter came under our stern and sent a boat on board. When the officer came on the quarter deck, our master, full of glee, went up to him and said, ‘If you have any letters, give them to us and we’ll take them in for you.’ ‘The devil you will?’ says he. ‘That would be a pretty circumbendibus, to send letters to Portsmouth viâ Jamaica. Why,’ says he, ‘you don’t laugh.’ And well he might say so, for no lame duck on change ever cut a more rueful appearance than the master, who damned his eyes, and went below to make his will, wishing bad luck to the fellow who brought the news.

We had to victual and get stores from the rest of the fleet, with a heavy swell and the ship rolling like a tub. She was the worst sea boat that ever was built, drawing less water by some feet than the other ships of her rate, but of great breadth and superior size. She had a trick of carrying away her main topmast close by the cap, by a particular jerk in pitching; and as we were informed by Mr. Yelland, the carpenter (who had been appointed to her for years before), could never be prevented; and here she played the same game, and laboured so dreadfully that it was with the utmost difficulty we could get the stores on board and another main topmast rigged, so as to be ready to join the squadron. She rolled so that the scuttle butts broke adrift, and a poor fellow got so much injured by one of them that he died soon after. She also held a bad wind, so that it was no easy task for an officer to keep her in her station; and to sum up the whole of her good qualities, on her last cruise she had nearly drowned all hands, and it was by uncommon exertion and good luck they succeeded in getting her into port, where they made her a powder ship, the only thing she was fit for.[[154]]

Before we left the fleet, one of our lieutenants was taken ill and sent home, and Lieutenant Hector Maclean came in his room—he was senior to me and appointed second. This was another hardship, but Captain Stephens told me not to mind it as he would do everything in his power to serve me. I told him that Lord Hugh Seymour, the admiral commanding on the Jamaica station, was an old friend and shipmate of my father’s, and I would thank him to mention me to him when the ship arrived, which he said I might depend on. But, unfortunately for me, Lord Hugh died before we got out, regretted by everyone, and was succeeded in the command (until the arrival of Sir J. T. Duckworth) by a man[[155]] as proud as the mighty Prester John.

We had many strange beings in our wardroom—I shall begin with the master and surgeon. Our first lieutenant gave the former the name of Pot Guts, and the surgeon the cognomen of Bottle Belly. The master saved everything he could, having a family; and for this he was considered by some as very near. Now the surgeon was one that loved good living, and used to eat very hearty and seemed to devour everything with his eyes on the table. I remember his saying to the master in a satirical manner, ‘Mr. Wills, don’t you intend to purchase a black servant for your good lady?’ ‘Why,’ says Wills, ‘I had some idea of doing so, but to tell you the truth I am fearful you would eat him on the passage.’ The surgeon had nothing further to say. While lying at Port Royal, Wills was caterer of the mess and went to Kingston to purchase dollar pigs; and going into a house he saw some people lugging a man downstairs, and on his asking what was the matter, they told him it was only a man who had died of the yellow fever. This gave him such a turn that to recover his spirits he was obliged to drink seven glasses of grog before (to use his own words) he could make his blood circulate, and for several days he was on the look-out for the black vomit.

One of the dollar pigs he brought with him was deformed, having a head as long as his body, and when put into the sty with the others he killed the whole of them; and some of the seamen got it into their heads that this pig was the devil. Now Wills was a bit of a methodist and did not like this, and one morning he had the devil knocked on the head and hove overboard, observing it was the last time he’d have anything to do with a shaver like that.

Our first lieutenant used to play many tricks with Wills. Once when the packet came in, we were looking at her out of the wardroom windows, when up started Hungerford, who swore that Mrs. Wills and her two daughters were in a boat under the stern and coming alongside, and that he saw them leave the packet which had just arrived from England. Out he ran from the wardroom to escort them, and poor Wills looked stupid with surprise. A few minutes after the door opened and in came Hungerford with three naked black fellows, who he introduced as Mrs. Wills and her two daughters in the newest fashion from England. Wills, angry as he was, could not help joining in the laugh. When the ship was in Portsmouth harbour, I went with Hungerford to dine with Wills, who lived at Portsea. He had on his door a large brass plate with ‘Methuselah Wills’ engraved thereon in capital letters. When we returned, Hungerford swore that old Wills had the following inscription on the above brass plate:—

Methuselah Wills Esquire,

Master in the Royal Navie,

Passed for a first-rate ship of 110 guns,

Him and his wife lives here.

Poor Wills was a very good fellow; he died the senior master on the list at the age of eighty-three, and lies, with a great many more of my old shipmates, in Kingston churchyard, near Portsmouth. The last time I saw him was on the day the Princess Charlotte, 100, was launched. We were in the dockyard together and had just passed the bridge when it gave way with the gates belonging to the dock, by which accident near twenty people were drowned, and we escaped the same fate by about three minutes.[[156]]

I must now speak of a very different kind of being—poor unfortunate Jack Key, our third lieutenant. He had many vices, particularly hard drinking, but more his own enemy than any others. He was sent to Port Royal Hospital and invalided, and remained there after we sailed, in great distress, not being able for some time to get a passage home. One gentleman with feelings that do honour to him, took pity on the destitute. This gentleman was Mr. Carroll, assistant surgeon belonging to the Goliath, who, in the kindest manner, brought him on board his ship to provide for his wants, and did everything in his power to relieve him in his miserable situation; but the march of intellect among the superior officers rendered the good intentions of Mr. Carroll of little avail, as they ordered poor unhappy Jack out of the ship without loss of time.[[157]] Mr. Carroll is now a surgeon in the navy of long standing, and in extensive practice in Walworth. Key, from his dark complexion, had the nickname of Cocoa Jack, and was always, when the weather had the appearance of being bad, seen with a piece of wool between his finger and thumb ready to put in his ear, which made them say, ‘We are going to have bad weather; Jack is wool gathering.’

I once relieved Jack at 12 o’clock P.M. When I came on deck he was not to be found. It was blowing fresh, we were on a wind, the weather topsail braces gone, the yards fore and aft and the weather backstay falls overhauled. Why the topmasts did not go was no fault of Jack’s. At last I found him asleep in the lee scuppers and more than half drunk. On another occasion, when with the grand fleet off Brest, the signal was made for the ships to send boats to unload the victuallers, and I was sent with the launch and an eight-oared cutter for that purpose. As there was a great swell we had a difficult task to clear them, and it was late in the evening before we could take our launch in tow, and then pulled for the ship (I think about 7 P.M.), which was about a league off. Now Cocoa Jack had the first watch, and the ship was lying-to for the boat until the captain went to supper; when Jack, thinking we were too far from the admiral, made sail for some time and left us to shift for ourselves. At this time the wind freshened and the sea began to break, and I had serious apprehensions for our safety, and we did not appear to near the ship, whose distinguishing lights were scarcely visible. At last after near five hours’ labouring at the oar we got alongside. On going upon deck I found Jack had gone below without being relieved, and seated at the wardroom table with cold beef and a bumper of grog before him. ‘Ah, Tony,’ says he, ‘you have got on board at last? I had almost given you up.’ Although he was my senior officer I could not help saying, ‘Damn your old cocoa soul, did you want to drown all hands of us? Why did you not heave to before?’ ‘Lord help you,’ says he; ‘we have been lying-to these three hours.’ Now what Jack called lying-to was this: he let go the main-top-bowline, kept the sail shivering but not aback, and the helm a little a-weather, so that the ship forged ahead considerably. With all his faults he was a good-tempered fellow, and I said no more.

Our purser was a glorious fellow for keeping it up; and after taking his full share of Madeira would then turn to upon rum and water, and about two or three in the morning would give his last toast, ‘A bloody war and a sickly season!’ and then retire in a happy state. I once told him when he had the dry belly-ache after drinking port wine, that it was likely he’d go to the palisades (the burying ground), but that I would be happy to do anything for him in England that lay in my power. He gave me a look that expressed everything but thanks.

I must here relate a circumstance which took place on the evening of the day we made Deseada. We had a dog on board that in fact belonged to no one, but the ship’s company were very kind to the poor animal, who used to get well fed from the different messes, and was quite at home fore and aft. The evening was fine, with light winds, and the ship going about three knots, when some wicked fellow (supposed to be the son of a clergyman) threw the poor dog overboard when several sharks were round the ship. It was naturally supposed they had made a meal of him, but that was not the case, as they had more mercy than the ruffian who was guilty of such cruelty. On the arrival of the squadron at Port Royal one of our officers went on board (I think) the Captain, 74, when to his astonishment, who should come jumping round him but the lost dog. On his relating the circumstance to the officers, they told him that about ten o’clock of the evening in question they were upwards of two miles astern of us when they heard a strange noise under their bows. At first they thought it was a man overboard until they heard the dog bark, when one of the men went down by a rope and caught hold of the poor creature by the neck and got him safe on board. A blanket belonging to a sailor was towing overboard which he got hold of with his paws and held on and by that means was rescued from a watery grave. His new shipmates wished to keep him and with them he remained. Of the young man who threw him overboard, if I were to pronounce an eulogy on his character I should without flattery say:—

On Newgate steps Jack Chance was found,

And bred up in St. Giles’s pound;

He learned to curse, to swear, to fight,

Did everything but read and write;

And bawdy songs all day would sing,

And they all declared he was just the thing.

Our first lieutenant (Hungerford) was a very droll fellow but fractious from disappointment. He was in the Trusty, 50, when the late Admiral Walker commanded her at the time she put into Cadiz, where some of her officers were arrested and sent to prison by the Spanish Government for smuggling off money; for which Captain Walker was tried by a court martial and dismissed the service. He and Hungerford were upon very bad terms, and happening to meet in High Street, Portsmouth, Hungerford with a cane began to strike at him, when Captain Walker in his defence, caught hold of a hod belonging to a mason who was standing by, and made a blow at Hungerford, which, fortunately for him, missed the mark, and several officers coming up, a stop was put to any further proceedings. This business hurt Hungerford in the service and made him many enemies. Captain Walker was reinstated and died a rear-admiral.[[158]] He commanded the Monmouth, 64, in the Dutch action under Duncan and behaved with uncommon bravery. Hungerford was a very good officer and seaman and an indefatigable first lieutenant. In watching, quartering, stationing, and regulating the ship’s company in every respect he showed great ability. He was a great mimic, and very droll in other respects. I remember at Port Royal, when he was ill, his pretending to be dumb and mad, and carrying on the joke for a whole day on purpose to annoy the surgeon. He put on a white great coat belonging to Captain Rea of the marines, with his sash and sword, and a large cocked hat and feather, strutting about the wardroom and making a dead set at Fuller whenever he came in. However, about seven in the evening he found his tongue and said to me, ‘What a damned fool I made of Bottle Belly; how easily I humbugged him.’

The day we made the east end of Jamaica I had the forenoon watch, and was walking the deck with Captain Stephens, when Lieutenant Morgan of the marines called out from the gangway to the gunner’s mate to get a gun ready and fire into the ship abreast of us. On my asking him what he meant by such extraordinary conduct, ‘Sir,’ says he, ‘I am not accountable to you for my actions’; and going up to the captain he told him he was no longer captain of the Brunswick, but that he would take pity on him and suffer him to keep possession of his cabin for the present. The captain looked at me in amazement. ‘Sir,’ says I, ‘Mr. Morgan is certainly deranged.’ He was then sent below, and on going down the quarter deck ladder, he roared out to the man at the wheel, ‘Put the helm a starboard, you damned rascal.’ The captain dined with us that day, and, after the cloth was removed, Morgan came to the table, and on something being said to him he took up a glass of wine, part of which he hove in the captain’s face, and the glass at Jack Key’s head; and when we seized hold of him, he called me a damned conceited whelp, and that he always saw a little greatness about me that he never could put up with. This young man’s brain was turned by diving into things he did not understand, and it may be said in truth of him:—

A little learning is a dangerous thing,

Drink deep or taste not the Pierian spring.

He was invalided and sent home, and got the retirement, but never recovered his reason.

Another of our marine officers (Augustus John Field) was a very strange being. He was on board the Quebec, 32, in the action with the Surveillante, French frigate, in the American war. Both ships were dismasted after very hard fighting, when the Quebec unfortunately caught fire. Her brave captain (Farmer) would not quit, and was blown up in his ship. Out of the number saved Lieutenant Field was one and got a considerable lift in his corps for his bravery. He was a very good fellow in many respects, but drew a long bow and kept it up too much. He had been through all the changing scenes of life, and told incredible stories—that he was descended from the Plantagenet family and could trace his genealogy to Henry the Second. By way of amusement I have seen him rest the calf of one leg on the knee of the other and then drive several pins up to the head in the calf of his leg, saying he would leave them to the mess as a leg-a-cy.

Our ship was full of rats, and one morning he caught four which he had baked in a pie with some pork chops. When it came to table he began greedily to eat, saying, ‘What a treat! I shall dine like an alderman.’ One of our lieutenants (Geo. M. Bligh) got up from the table and threw his dinner up, which made Field say, ‘I shall not offend such delicate stomachs and shall finish my repast in my cabin,’ which he did and we wished the devil would choke him. When he had finished, he said one of the rats was not exactly to his taste as the flesh was black; but whether from a bruise or from disease, he could not say, but should be more particular in future in the post mortem examination. I never was more sick in my life, and am so to this day when I think of it. Our captain of marines (Rea) was a very worthy fellow. He had great antipathy to the West Indies, and was always cursing Venables and Penn for taking possession of Jamaica, and was sorry Oliver Cromwell did not make them a head shorter for their pains. I have often heard him repeat the following lines as a morning and evening hymn

Venables and Penn,

Two bloody-minded men,

In an evil hour

Those seas did explore,

And blundering about

This cursed hole found out;

And for so doing,

The devil has them stewing;

And with him they may remain

Till we come this way again,

Which we think howsomdever

(As our boatswain says) will be never;

And let all the mess say Amen!

When cruising off Cape Tiburon I was sent in our cutter to board a Yankee about two leagues off and to purchase stock. Our surgeon by way of pastime took the trip with me. As the Yankee had plenty for sale, and it being a dead calm, I loaded our boat with live and dead stock until she was pretty deep in the water. On our return, the sharks began to muster and the live stock to ride rusty. The surgeon said it was a damned shame to trifle with people’s lives in that manner by overloading the boat, and cursed the hour he ever came with me; and it by no means eased his fears when one of the boat’s crew said, ‘Please, your honour, if we don’t cut the b——s’ throats’ (meaning the live stock) ‘their hoofs will be through the boat’s bottom, as they are kicking like blazes, and here’s a bloody shark close alongside us.’ However, we got safe alongside after a long tug. The surgeon with a woeful countenance told a lamentable tale, which made Captain Stephens and the rest laugh heartily. He took good care never to volunteer his services with me in a boat again. He has often put me in mind of the trip and I hope he will live long to do so.

We had a tedious passage home, and when off Bermuda it was a gale of wind and a calm alternately for three days and nights, with thunder and lightning. On one of the nights I had the middle watch and was obliged to clue down the topsails upon the cap eight or nine times, blowing a gale of wind one moment and a calm the next. The night was as dark as Erebus between the flashes, and then as light as broad day. Through one flash I saw our surgeon coming on deck rolled up in a white great coat, and I said to Captain Stephens (who was up most of the night and standing with me on the gangway):

By the pricking of my thumbs

Something wicked this way comes.

Captain Stephens would always repeat the above when he saw Fuller come on deck. I have often wondered that no accident happened to the ship from the lightning, which was beyond everything of the kind I ever saw. This was the only bad weather we had during the voyage, which was a lucky circumstance for the Brunswick; for had a gale of wind come on for any length of time we certainly should have foundered.

And now let me say in the language of the Romans when taking leave of their deceased friends:—

Vale, Vale, Vale, nos te ordine, quo natura permiserit, cuncti sequemur.