One of them[61] has left a very interesting account of his experiences on this occasion. "On the morning we got thither", he says, "the Spaniards were discovered that came up the back of the hill. Then there was a command for twenty of our men to go ashore with fire-arms. . . . We were all in high spirits and fit to do execution, not being at all daunted at their numbers, for they were like swarms of bees upon the hill and in great confusion, and we like lions in the valley seeking whom we might devour; as our duty required. At it we went, loading and firing as fast as we could. Our men had a great advantage of the Spaniards in firing uphill, and it was a very great advantage they were not obliged to wade, for the water often overflows that part where we were obliged to engage them. We were happy enough in missing the tide; had it been otherwise, we had been but in a bad situation. The Spaniards rolled pieces of rocks down the hill and wounded a great many of our men, but our advantage in firing was more than all they could do. When they found they could do no good they laid down their fire-arms. . . . We stayed ashore all night, and in the morning returned to our ship. They found the duty too hard for the soldiers, and then there were orders sent for ten men of a ship to go ashore again. . . . When we went over we found that the works were very much demolished, for there was not a gun that we could fire one day without its being unfit for service on the next, for the Spaniards would dismount them. . . . We found the duty extremely hard, for what they beat down by day we were obliged to clear away at night."
After a further description of their work, the writer speaks of the Spanish bombardment and tells how he just escaped a "Jack Johnson" of the period by throwing himself flat on the ground. "Had I been so unwise", he says, "as to have stood up when it fell, I should have been lifted up on its wings. I was hardened in that employment, and a great many of our men ran in a terrible fright, thinking that I was blown up. They said, when they saw me, we are glad to see you alive. I thanked them for their regard for me, and told them I never minded a bomb at all, only to observe its falling and step out of the way and fall with my face to the ground. . . . We continued making our works by night and in the daytime we were employed in drawing guns from the New Mole to Wills's Battery. We had very indifferent ground some part of the way, therefore we were obliged to draw in gears, in the same manner as horses do. But when we came among the rocks we were obliged to lay deal spars, and parbuckle them up with hawsers, and by these means we haled them up to the Battery."
It is in this kind of work that our seamen have ever proved so invaluable to the sister service on shore. A military officer, writing of the taking of Martinique in 1762, writes: "The cannon and other warlike stores were landed as soon as possible, and dragged by the 'Jacks' to any point thought proper. You may fancy you know the spirit of these fellows; but to see them in action exceeds any idea that can be formed of them. A hundred or two of them, with ropes and pulleys, will do more than all your dray horses in London. Let but their tackle hold and they will draw you a cannon or mortar on its proper carriage up to any height, though the weight be ever so great. It is droll enough to see them tugging along with a good 24-pounder at their heels; on they go huzzaing, hallooing, sometimes uphill, sometimes downhill, now sticking fast in the brakes, presently floundering in mud and mire . . . and as careless of everything but the matter committed to their charge as if death or danger had nothing to do with them. We had a thousand of these brave fellows sent to our assistance by the Admiral; and the service they did us, both on shore and on the water, is incredible."[62]
ENGLISH BLUEJACKETS AT THE DEFENCE OF ACRE
Seamen and marines constantly worked together on shore during numerous expeditions in the course of the long series of wars which only terminated with the Battle of Waterloo.
Two or three years previously the seamen of the fleet had performed a similar duty at the siege of Quebec, and it is related that after bringing up the guns they met a battalion of soldiers about to go into action and insisted in falling-in alongside them, some armed with cutlasses, some with sticks, and others with no weapons at all. General Wolfe, coming up, thanked them for their spirit, but urged them to continue on their way to their ships, as they were both unarmed and unacquainted with military discipline and manœuvres. He said that it would be of more service to their country if they did so than for them to lose their lives for no result. To this address some of them called out: "God bless your Honour, pray let us stay and see fair play between the English and the French". Wolfe again urged them to go on board. Some followed his advice, but others, as soon as his back was turned, swore that the soldiers should not have all the fighting to themselves. They contrived to remain with the redcoats, and whenever one of the latter fell a seaman put on his accoutrements, seized his musket, and charged with the battalion. Seamen and marines constantly worked together on shore during the numerous expeditions that were directed against the enemy's possessions in the course of the long series of wars which only terminated with the Battle of Waterloo, not so very often in regular brigades but in landing-parties from their own ships, notably at the defence of Acre by Sir Sidney Smith, Captain of the Tigre, assisted by Colonel Douglas of the Marines and by Colonel Philpoteaux, an engineer officer and a French Royalist refugee. A very usual operation was for one or two of our ships to set about the capture of a number of the enemy's merchantmen and small craft that had sought refuge in some harbour on the Mediterranean coast. If there was a battery defending the entrance the ship would engage it, and after its guns were silenced, it would be stormed by the bluejackets and marines. After this the latter would take up a covering position while the seamen brought out the shipping.
We have a somewhat amusing account of a naval brigade of seamen which was put on shore during the unfortunate Walcheron Expedition of 1808. It was written by a soldier, so perhaps may have been a bit overdrawn, but it must be remembered that there was no attempt to teach seamen infantry drill in those days, and none of them was enlisted for longer than a ship's commission. "These extraordinary fellows", says the writer, "delighted in hunting the 'Munseers', as they called the French, and a more formidable pack was never unkennelled. Armed with a long pole, a pike, a cutlass, and a pistol, they annoyed the French skirmishers in all directions by their irregular and unexpected attacks. They usually went out in parties as if they were going to hunt a wild beast, and no huntsman ever followed the chase with more delight. . . . They might be seen leaping the dykes by the aid of their poles or swimming across others, like Newfoundland dogs; and if a few French riflemen appeared in sight, they ran at them helter-skelter, and pistol, cutlass, or pike went to work in good earnest. The French soldiers did not at all relish such opponents—and no wonder, for the very appearance of them was terrific, and quite out of the usual order of things. Each man seemed a sort of Paul Jones, tarred, belted, and cutlassed as they were. Had we had occasion to storm Flushing I have no doubt they would have carried the breach themselves."
The writer gives a humorous description of their drill, of which they wisely only attempted enough to assist them in moving from place to place. "'Heads up, you beggar of a corporal, there', a little slang-going Jack would cry out from the rear rank, well knowing that his diminutive size prevented his being seen by his officers. Then, perhaps, the man immediately before the wit, in order to show his sense of decorum, would turn round and remark: 'I say, who made you fugleman,[63] Master Billy? Can't you behave like a sodger afore the commander, eh?'"
Drill was looked upon merely as an amusing interlude in the serious business of war and appreciated accordingly. It was an exhibition of the same spirit of cheerfulness which has made us so proud of our Tommies for "sticking it out" so heroically in the trenches. This spirit never left these gallant seamen till the last, for the account above quoted tells how, when one of them was brought to the ground by a bullet which broke the bones of his leg, while pursuing some of the enemy's riflemen, he "took off his tarpaulin hat and flung it with all his might after them, adding a wish, 'that it was an 18-pounder for their sakes!' The poor fellow was carried off by his comrades and taken to the hospital, where he died. Such were the men who fought our battles."