It was on July 23rd, 1803, that the “King George” set sail from Lisbon for Falmouth. The passage should have occupied about a week; but the “King George” never arrived in port. Her fate was not long doubtful. On August 12th the “Auckland” Packet, which had left Lisbon some days later, sighted a Swedish galliot, which signalled to her to speak with them. On bearing down accordingly, the officers of the “Auckland” found that the galliot was manned by their friends and colleagues of the “King George,” the refugees of a lost sea fight, in which, though most of them had received severe wounds, all had escaped alive, save only Captain Yescombe, who had died of his hurts on the previous day.
The fight, it appeared, had occurred on the 30th July. The Packet made a stout resistance, and at first with some hope of success, notwithstanding the obvious superiority of the enemy, a Privateer carrying fourteen 4–pounders and a hundred men, whilst the “King George” had only twenty-six men and six guns. The Falmouth men served their guns well, but they suffered so heavily in their spars and rigging that at last, after a heavy cannonade lasting nearly an hour, the enemy obtained an opportunity of boarding.
From that moment the last chance of saving the Packet disappeared. The French poured fifty men, chiefly blacks, upon her decks. There was a desperate scuffle, but a few minutes decided the affair. Captain Yescombe fell, shot through the thigh. Mr. St. Aubyn, the mate, and three seamen were wounded, the rest were quickly overpowered, and the ship was won.
The French carried their prize into Vigo, and it was in that port that the Cornishmen hired the galliot, in which they were returning home when the “Auckland” met them. Captain Yescombe, by the accounts of those who were present at his last fight, conducted it with skill and courage. He was highly respected by his colleagues, and it cannot be said that he left them any but an animating example.
It may be observed at this point that the maxim enunciated so often in 1793, when the new model was introduced, namely, that “the idea of defence was to be wholly abandoned,” appears much more rarely in official reports of the early years of this century. It was still cherished by the Department, but chiefly for public consumption. It reappeared down to the very eve of the peace whenever the merchants complained, but to their own officers, my Lords the Postmaster General used very different language. They could not indeed supply their captains with heavier armaments, but they could and did stimulate them on every occasion to make a spirited use of what they had, and to such encouragement the Falmouth men responded nobly.
At this period a figure appears on the stage at Falmouth which deserves more than a passing mention. Captain John Bull was exceedingly well known in his day, both as a good seaman and a gallant officer, and his ship, the “Duke of Marlborough,” shared in his well-earned reputation.
In the “Duke of Marlborough” Captain John Bull fought more actions than any other Packet officer, and, though he by no means won them all, yet when he was most unfortunate, he emerged with credit, and an added title to the confidence of the public. There was, moreover, a bluff heartiness about him, a breezy contempt of danger, a dogged persistence in carrying through whatever he had undertaken, which excites our admiration even after the lapse of so many years, and goes far to explain how it happened that in his life-time he was regarded as the embodiment of the best qualities of the Falmouth Service, and by an affectionate deference on the part of his colleagues was awarded by them the nickname, or title, of “the Commodore.”
The “Commodore’s” first voyage as commander—in succession to his father—served to prove the qualities which brought him fame. The “Duke of Marlborough” was not yet built, and Captain Bull was in command of the “Grantham,” a fine, full-rigged ship, which, from some unexplained accident, suddenly foundered while lying at Barbados. Captain Bull was on shore at the time, and the officer left in charge had only time to save the mails before the ship went down, carrying with her almost the whole of Captain Bull’s possessions.
The blow was a heavy one, for the “Grantham” belonged to Captain Bull. If he had remained on the spot, he might have recovered some portion of his property by salvage, but there was no time for delay. His duty was to convey the mails to Jamaica, and he lost no time in chartering a schooner, in which he reached Jamaica even earlier than he had been expected. The plucky way in which so young a captain faced his misfortunes won for him a considerable amount of esteem among the merchants in the island; and feeling confident that their property was safe in his hands, they appealed to the Governor and to the Deputy Postmaster of the colony to entrust to him the mails which the “Grantham” should have carried home to England, and to authorize him to charter a vessel for the passage. The Postmaster hesitated. He would have preferred to hold the mails over until the Packet of the following month arrived, but in the end he yielded to the wishes of the merchants. A Privateer, the “Caroline,” was hired, and Captain Bull set sail for England.
It was curious how persistently ill-fortune pursued him. On the very day on which the “Caroline” left Kingston harbour she sprang a leak, and after vainly endeavouring to keep the water under, Captain Bull was obliged to bear up for port. To add to the dangers of his position, a strong breeze rose, which quickly increased to a full gale. The ship was labouring heavily, and making water most uncomfortably fast. It was clear that she could never reach port, and Captain Bull resolved that their only chance lay in running her ashore.