ORESTES, 18.
I joined the son of Agamemnon early in 1786, fitting in Portsmouth Harbour for Channel service, to cruise after smugglers from Dunnose to the Start; Manley Dixon, Esq., commander.
This brig was considered the finest in the service. She measured 32 ft. 9 in. on the beam, and drew 17 ft. 4 in. abaft, 13 ft. 4 in. forward, and [was] nearly 450 tons, mounting 18 long nines, and pierced for 26. She and the Pylades (called the Hercules and Mars) were taken from the Dutch by Macbride in the Artois, 44.[[40]] She sailed remarkably well, but was a wet soul, shipping seas over the bows and washing the men at the wheel. She would never condescend to rise to a sea, but dash right through. After a few cruises, when off the Isle of Purbeck we observed two large Hogboats[[41]] among the rocks, and several people on horseback upon the cliffs above the spot. Sent our boats to examine, and found them to be smugglers with seven hundred tubs of liquor, which we seized, and landed the smugglers at Swanage. After landing our tubs at the Custom House, Portsmouth, we anchored at Yarmouth, in the Isle of Wight, our place of rendezvous, where we remained a short time, and then resumed our cruising; sometimes in company with the Hebe, 36, on the same station; and then put into Guernsey, where we stayed but a short time and ran out in a gale of wind. Caught fire in the master’s cabin over the magazine, by the candles rolling against his curtains. It created great alarm, but was soon got under. During the time, it occasioned the utmost terrors among the ship’s company. Several of them got into the forechains, the head, and on the bowsprit, ready to jump overboard. However, they seemed to have as much dread of water as they had of the fire and remained stationary. It was ludicrous to see the captain with a speaking trumpet, exerting himself to keep order, and the carpenter’s wife catching him round the legs, and while he was calling for Water, she was screaming out Fire.
When our cruise was over we returned to Yarmouth, where our surgeon turned mad and cut some unaccountable capers. One morning early, he came upon deck and gave some orders to the officers of the watch, who paid no attention to them. Upon this he got hold of a crow[[42]] that was in the becket over one of the guns, and began to run a-muck,[[43]] and cleared the deck in a moment. Sentries and all took to their heels, and it was some time before an opportunity offered to get him below. At last he was got to his cabin in the gunroom, with four marines and a midshipman to guard him; but he soon made a start from his den and made no more of the marines than if they were sparrows. He first caught hold of two and knocked their heads together, and then punished the others, who from fear, made little resistance. He next attacked Patterson, the master, and swore he should stand auctioneer as it was his intention to sell his effects. I never saw a more ludicrous scene when the master, to humour him, began to put his things up to auction and we, outside (for we were afraid to go in) the gunroom, bidding for them. After the sale was over, he made Patterson put on two of his coats—one of them the Windsor uniform[[44]]—and then upset him and rolled him about the gunroom, swearing he was a beer cask. Then rushing out, he belaboured all that he met with, and went upon deck and remained cock of the walk until he came down of his own accord, and went to bed, saying, ‘You shall hear from me presently.’ However, good care was taken to secure him, and he was soon after sent to sick quarters, being a dangerous subject, and glad enough we were to get rid of him.
There was at Yarmouth a truly hospitable gentleman, a Captain Urry[[45]] of the Royal Navy, well known to officers in the service, who kept open house and gave large parties. He was the life and soul of Yarmouth, which place has never been worth going to since his death. On one of these parties, our barge (for we had a barge) was ordered to attend and tow a sloop full of company (it being calm) from Yarmouth to Lymington, and I was the midshipman sent, and had directions to land them, and to take orders from a captain in the navy, who was one of the party. This being done, a half-guinea was given to the men to drink, and I was desired to let them go on shore for that purpose. After they had their grog I missed the strokesman of the barge, a tall Irishman named McCarthy, who was nowhere to be found; in fact he had deserted. On my return I reported this to Lieutenant Jeynes who abused me and said he would write against me to the captain (who lived on shore) for suffering this tall Paddy to run away. The next morning he was as good as his word, and sent me with the letter. The captain, on reading it, gave me a severe reprimand, and sent me on board in a hurry, saying I should hear more of it very shortly. In a day or two after he came on board and we left Yarmouth for Spithead. I was in hourly expectation of some terrible explosion, as my friend the lieutenant was constantly reminding me of the subject. After the ship was moored the captain went on shore, and Jeynes soon followed. The master being commanding officer, I asked him permission to go and see my friends, which he granted, and I never joined the Orestes after.
I was but a youngster then. Had I known as much as I did soon after, I would have demanded a court martial on myself, and would have brought Lieutenant Jeynes to another for tyranny and oppression, which he was guilty of in many instances and had laid himself open to anyone who might think proper to bring the charges forward. He was obliged to leave the Orestes soon after. He had formerly (as I have understood) been a purser, and was broken by court martial; but having served his time as midshipman, got to be made a lieutenant, and died a retired commander.
Whenever the Orestes came in I used to keep out of the way. I lived at Gosport and was always on the watch, and when she came into Spithead I had timely notice and would set off for the country. After returning from one of those excursions, I was hiding behind a screen in our parlour; on the other side sitting by the fire was an old schoolfellow of mine and a young lady in earnest conversation about me. The former among other remarks said he believed I had made away with myself. This observation I could not brook, and catching hold of a large family Bible that was on a table near me (and which I have at this moment) I hove it over the screen and hit my friend on the jaw and knocked him down as flat as a flounder. I set off as fast as I could, leaving them in the utmost consternation; and he told me a long time after that he thought it was the devil that had felled him, until he saw the Bible. Captain Dixon, I believe, was aware that Lieutenant Jeynes had blamed me wrongfully, as he sent me my prize money and gave me a good certificate, and offered to take me again, for which he has my most grateful thanks, and I hope to live to see him admiral of the fleet.[[46]]
He was a very smart officer, and did everything in his power to teach the midshipmen their duty. We used to take helm and lead, and reef the main topsail; also pull in the boats upon particular occasions, such as going along shore in the night after smugglers, &c. When we were at Guernsey, the captain in the kindest manner allowed the petty officers a moderate quantity of liquor in each of their messes; but the sergeant of marines, not content with this indulgence, smuggled twenty kegs into the ship. When this was told the captain, he ordered all the kegs to be brought on deck and stove. The sergeant stood, like Niobe, in tears for his loss. It was a most laughable sight, as the liquor was running out mixed with salt water (for the ship rolled a great deal), to see the fellows laying down like beasts on the deck and licking up, while the boatswain’s mates were thrashing them to no purpose. The sergeant, I believe, was reduced to the ranks.
I shall mention a few strange fellows we had on board, and first Mr. Quinton the mate. This gentleman was a good sailor, and was very fond of gin grog, and used to say it agreed with him so well and made his flesh so firm. It was determined one day to count how many glasses he drank from morning until evening; and, if I remember correctly, twenty-six tumblers of good Hollands and water made the number; for in the good old times we never sported Cockney gin. I must in justice declare that Mr. Quinton was no drunkard; I never saw him disguised with liquor the whole time I belonged to the ship. The next was Mr. Stevens, who went by the nickname of Tommy Bowline, a rough knot; full of wise saws and strange dry sayings, but rather slack in his movements, and was what we call a hard officer and droll middy. When belonging to a guard-ship commanded by Sir Roger Curtis, while lying at Spithead the mizen topsail was ordered to be loosed, to swing the ship the right way. Tommy Bowline was the first to go aloft and was highly complimented by Sir Roger for his activity, saying ‘You are a fine fellow, Mr. Stevens; a most active officer, Mr. Stevens; you are a wonder, Mr. Stevens.’ Now it unfortunately happened that Tommy was left behind by the other midshipmen and was last on the yard. Sir Roger observing this called out ‘I recall all my compliments, Mr. Stevens; you are a damned lubber, Mr. Stevens; a blockhead, Mr. Stevens; come down, Mr. Stevens.’ This poor Tommy never heard the last of.
Our gunner (McKinnon) was another strange hand. He was troubled with sore eyes and would sit in his cabin damning them from morning till night. Two of our men having deserted while in Yarmouth Roads, our boat, manned by midshipmen with Lieutenant Jeynes, left the ship in the evening and pulled for Cowes, where we arrived about eleven at night. Mr. Jeynes having received some information respecting the deserters, set off in the boat for Ryde, leaving me at Cowes with two marines to go round by land and meet him there. I had no money to get any refreshment, and never shall I forget the fatigue I went through that night. After pulling in the boat thirteen miles, I had to walk seven miles on a wild goose chase, for we never heard anything more of the runaways; and the wind shifting, we had to pull all the way back to Yarmouth. Before I close my account of the Orestes, I must say a word or two respecting Lieutenant Jeynes (letting the law of Solon sleep for a day). He was without exception the most cold-blooded and bad fellow I ever met with. I have seen him thrash the men with the end of a rope in the most unfeeling manner, until he was tired, making use of the most abusive language; and for his tyranny was obliged to quit the ship; but, to give the devil his due, [he] was what we call a bit of a sailor, and if he pleased (which was seldom) could make himself agreeable. In the year 1793, the Orestes was lost in the Indian Seas and every soul perished.