I remained out nearly three months, watching the flotilla and the privateers. We sometimes anchored just beyond range of their shells, and frequently when the wind was light hauled the trawl, and were richly rewarded by a quantity of fine fish. I was at length relieved by another cruiser, and again anchored in the Downs. We were a fortnight refitting, during which time I dined several times at the admiral’s table, where I had the pleasure of meeting Sir R. Strachan, Sir P. Durham, and several other distinguished officers. One day, after dinner, the characters of several eccentric officers were the subject of conversation.
“I make no doubt,” said a veteran captain, “that most of the present company recollect a man by the name of Billy Culmer, a distant relation of Lord Hood’s. He was a short time one of my lieutenants, and was between thirty and forty years of age before he obtained his commission. The next time I dined with Lord Hood, who was then one of the Admirals in the Channel Fleet, I was determined to request his lordship to give me a brief outline of his history, which was nearly this. Shall I proceed, Lady Campbell?” “Oh, by all means, Captain M.”
“‘The Culmers were distantly related to me by marriage,’ said his lordship. ‘Billy, as he was always called, was sent to me when I hoisted my [pg 283]pendant as master and commander. He unfortunately had lost an eye when a boy in one of his freaks, for they could do nothing with him at home. When he came on board I was not prepossessed in his favour; his manners were rough and bearish, although he had some redeeming qualities, for he was straightforward and frank. After being with me about two years, he said he was tired of being a midshipman, and requested me to obtain his discharge into the merchant service. I remonstrated with him to no purpose. To prevent his deserting, which he declared he would do, I procured his discharge, and he entered on board a West India ship going to Jamaica. I had lost sight of this extraordinary being for more than eight years,’ continued his lordship, ‘when, as I was standing on the platform at Portsmouth, waiting for a boat from the frigate I commanded, I was much surprised to see Billy Culmer, in a dirty sailor’s dress, a few yards from me. He perceived me, and pulled off his hat. “Hulloa!” said I, “Billy; where have you come from? I understood you were dead.” “Not so hard up as that, sir,” replied he. “I am d——d.” “Explain yourself,” said I. “Why,” said he, “I am d——d in the King’s service, for I shall never be able to enter it again, in consequence of my folly in requesting you to get me discharged.” “I probably may have interest enough, Billy, to get you once more on the quarter-deck if you will promise me faithfully to remain steady.” “I promise you solemnly I [pg 284]will,” replied he. “Then meet me at the admiral’s office to-morrow at ten o’clock,” returned I. “And I suppose, from your appearance, you are pretty well aground. Here is something that will keep your body and soul together.” He made a leg and took his departure.’ But I am afraid, Lady Campbell, you have had enough of this rigmarole story, for it is rather a long one, and to those who know nothing of the man it may not be an interesting one.” “Why, Captain M.,” said Lady Campbell, “as the weather is disagreeable, and we do not intend to take a drive this evening, we may as well hear about Billy Culmer as anybody else. Do you not think so, Admiral?” The admiral, who appeared more inclined for a nap than to listen to a long-spun yarn, I verily believe, wished the narrator and the subject of his narration at the masthead together. However, he nodded assent, and the story went on.
“‘On speaking to the admiral, Billy was again under my command,’ resumed his lordship, ‘and was appointed mate of the hold. When I was promoted to my flag, Billy and I parted company, for he had followed me steadily from the frigate to a ship of the line. As soon as he had served his six years, I sent for him and told him he must go to London to pass his examination. “You must excuse me, my lord,” was his answer; “I would rather remain the oldest midshipman than the youngest lieutenant,” and he persisted in this whim for more than three years. At the end of that [pg 285]period the ship he belonged to arrived at Spithead, and he came on board me to pay his respects. “Well,” said I, “Culmer, will you now pass your examination, or are you determined to die the oldest midshipman in the service?” “I have been thinking of it,” was his reply, “but I have no money to carry me to London.” “That,” said I, “I will give you. And if you can mount a horse, I will procure that also.” In a few days Billy started for London, where he arrived a week after, having sold my horse on the road, without informing me of his having done so. When he made his appearance before the Commissioners at Somerset Place, they were all younger than himself, and one of them had been a mid in the same ship where he was mate. This last addressed him, and in a half comic, half serious manner, said: “Well, Mr. Culmer, I make no doubt you are well prepared for your examination.” “And who the devil put you there,” answered Billy sharply, “to pass one who taught you to be something of a sailor? Do you remember the colting I gave you when you were a youngster in my charge? But I never could beat much seamanship into you. So you are to examine me, are you?” The two other commissioners, who knew the whimsical character of the person before them, called him to order, and requested he would answer some questions, as he could not obtain his certificate without doing so. “Begin,” said Billy, turning his quid and hitching up his trousers. “You are running into Plymouth [pg 286]Sound in a heavy gale from the S.E.; how would you proceed in coming to an anchor? Your top-gallant masts are supposed to be on deck.” “I would first furl all and run under the storm forestay sail, unfid the topmasts going in, and have a long range of both bower cables on deck, and the sheet anchor ready. On coming to the proper anchorage I would let go the best bower and lower the topmasts as she tended head to wind; veer away half a cable and let go the small bower; veer away on both cables until the best bower splice came to the hatchway. I should then half a whole cable on one and half a cable on the other.”
“‘“The gale increases, and there is a heavy scud, and you find both anchors are coming home. What then?”
“‘“Then I would veer to one and a half on the best and a whole on the other.”
“‘“In snubbing the best bower, it parts in the splice. What then?”
“‘“What then?” exclaimed Billy sharply, for he began to be tired of being interrogated respecting a part of seamanship he thought he knew better than themselves. “Why,” replied he, taking a fresh quid of tobacco, “I would let go the sheet anchor.”
“‘“But,” interrupted the elder Commissioner, “there is not, in consequence of having dragged the bower anchors, room to veer more than a few fathoms before you tail on the Hoe; consequently your sheet anchor, being only under foot, will be of [pg 287]little or no use, and the strain being on the small bower, it soon after parts.”
“‘“What humbug!” cried Billy, who could not contain himself longer. “I tell you, gentlemen, what I would do. I would let her go on shore and be d——d, and wish you were all on board her.”