NAVAL ACADEMY, GOSPORT
In Mathematics he was greater
Than Tycho Brahe, or Erra Pater.
For he by geometric scale
Could take the size of pots of ale;
Resolve by sines and tangents straight,
If bread or butter wanted weight;
And wisely tell what hour o’ th’ day,
The clock does strike by algebra.—Hudibras.
The name of the master of this school was Orchard, and a very good man he was; but who the devil taught him navigation is more than I can say. He was a great disciplinarian, and used to flourish with direful sway an infernal horsewhip, that I have reason to remember. It was called ‘black pudding,’ and he was no way stingy in serving it out. I recollect one of the scholars coming very late one morning quite out of breath, and when asked the reason by old Orchard, he replied: ‘The man said that the boy said that the woman said that Mr. Browell said if he did not hold his tongue he would knock him down dead.’ This set the whole school in a roar of laughter, and I for one got three or four cuts across the shoulder with the before-mentioned black pudding, that I have perfect remembrance of to the present day. While at this school we used to bathe in a lake that runs near the Horse-field on the Stoke Road. On one occasion we drove a cow into the mud so that we could not extricate the animal, and it was fast sinking up to the neck. A militia regiment happened to be encamped near the spot, and it took several of the soldiers a long time to get it out. I never shall forget the terror we were in when the owner swore he would send the whole of us to jail; and Buck Adams, the keeper of the Bridewell, passing near the spot by chance, we thought he was come to seize us, and several of the party set off and ran naked into the town covered with mud. We had to pay near twenty shillings to make the matter up, besides treating the soldiers, who enjoyed the fun. As I’m in a hurry to get to sea again I shall only relate one or two circumstances that happened before I took my departure.
I was standing on Gosport beach when the prisoners were landed from some of the prizes taken by Rear-Admiral Kempenfelt (the ablest tactician in the navy), who with only twelve sail of the line by a masterly manœuvre captured most of the convoy from the French admiral, Count de Guichen, who had nineteen sail of the line, and frustrated the expedition. A party of soldiers assembled on the beach to escort them to Forton prison, a lieutenant of the navy and several midshipmen also attending, when a posse of women rushed out of Rime’s ‘noted alley’ and, pointing to the soldiers, sang the following beautiful ditty:
Don’t you see the ships a-coming?
Don’t you see them in full sail?
Don’t you see the ships a-coming
With the prizes at their tail?
Oh! my little rolling sailor,
Oh! my little rolling he;
I do love a jolly sailor,
Blithe and merry might he be.
Sailors, they get all the money,
Soldiers they get none but brass;
I do love a jolly sailor.
Soldiers they may kiss—
Oh! my little rolling sailor,
Oh! my little rolling he;
I do love a jolly sailor,
Soldiers may be damned for me.
Then, catching hold of the lieutenant and midshipmen, they began to hug and kiss them, and it was some time before they could get out of their clutches. They then began to pelt the soldiers, who took it very patiently and seemed very glad when the order was given to march with the Frenchmen.
In holiday time we used to set off to a place called Grange, about two miles from Gosport, where the gipsies had a camp, and many a desperate battle we have had with them. I well recollect about fourteen of us going out, and after many manœuvres we succeeded in capturing some of their donkeys and rode off in triumph; but the swarthy squad got a reinforcement, with which they attacked us; and with sticks and stones, we maintained a running fight until driven into Stoke, after abandoning our donkeys and giving up the contest. The clergyman at Stoke (Mr. Shield) who had witnessed the engagement, said it was the defeat of the long-eared cavalry by the Egyptian infantry.
The following are the names of the gentlemen at this Academy:—
Orchard, the Master.
Dead. A very worthy and upright character.
Edward Bingham, Midshipman.
Dead. A very worthy young man.
J. Bingham, Midshipman.
Dead. A rear-admiral—proud enough.
Robert Bingham.
Dead. A clergyman, Royal Navy.
John Merrett.
Dead. A surgeon at Portsmouth.
J. A. Gardner, Midshipman.
A commander.
William Vosper, Midshipman.
A lieutenant of the Royal Hospital at Greenwich.
William Kitten.
Uncertain. Like all kittens made too much of.
Richard Nicholson, Midshipman.
Dead. A commander.
W. P. Nicholson, Midshipman.
Dead. Unfortunate.
John Wilkinson.
Dead. A lawyer at Gosport.
W. Coet, Midshipman.
A commander; a very good fellow; we used to cal him Old Owl. Since dead. [Possibly William Coote.—Marshall, x. 364.]
William Bowler.
Dead. A surgeon in the Royal Navy, called Squiney; a very good fellow.
John Barton.
Dead. Sir John Barton, treasurer of the Queen’s household.
Skene, Midshipman.
Uncertain. Called Jaw-me-dead.
Sol. Saradine.
Dead. A droll, wicked fellow.
Taylor.
This unfortunate man was surgeon of H.M. ship Jamaica, and by the sentence of a court martial was hanged at the yardarm at Spithead.[[8]]
Richard Carter.
Dead. A very worthy fellow.