Arrived in London, the first Lord of the Admiralty, Lord Melville, received me courteously, and complimented me on my promotion, which he was pleased to say I had won by my services and merit. I pointed out to his lordship that the important capture of the Corfu flotilla, which had been achieved by me, was unknown in England when my promotion had been given to me, and I urged that I hoped this last service might procure me a ship. Lord Melville’s reply was, on my taking leave of his lordship, “You shall go afloat, Captain O’Brien; we will not keep you on shore.”
Most joyfully was I received by all my friends; whilst my naval companions congratulated me on the certainty of my soon receiving an eligible command. Week after week did I remain in the expensive metropolis, in the hope of getting a ship.
The success of the Americans at sea, and the capture of the gallant Guerrière,[46] by her leviathan opponent, now formed the subject of public and private conversation. I felt most anxious to be on the shores of the New World; but after writing to Lord Melville, and reminding him of his promise, I received an official reply, “That I was noted for consideration at a convenient opportunity.”
It was clear that a long holiday was before me, so passing over to Ireland I had the heavenly happiness of embracing my honoured and beloved parents, who had come to the Irish metropolis to receive me. Let no man undervalue the happiness of life who has felt the joy of embracing parents, after a long and painful absence, in which he has suffered much, and has been also fortunate in bearing a distinguished part in participating in honourable public services.
During the autumn of 1814 I was attacked with ague, a disease common to the bay of Dublin, and was in a state of convalescence when I received a welcome and unexpected official letter from the Admiralty, desiring me to repair immediately to London.
I proceeded to London forthwith, but, from a boisterous and unpleasant passage, had a relapse of the disease. However, as soon as I was equal to it, I saw Mr. Hay, the private secretary of the First Lord of the Admiralty, who received me very kindly; and the interview ended in his requesting me to leave my London address, as it was the intention of the First Lord to give me a ship.
I thanked Mr. Hay very much for the information, and took my leave by stating to him that I had been confined to my bed a fortnight, and that this was my first attempt at moving out.
Day after day I passed in feverish anxieties for the arrival of the letter appointing me to a command. Days, weeks, months, and, I may say, years passed, and no such letter was received.
Unfortunately for me, Napoleon had fallen six months before, and peace with America was now talked of; to this I attribute mainly the neglect of my incessant and anxious applications to be employed. The reply always was, that “I was noted for consideration at a convenient opportunity”; but there was added after a time the unhappy news, “that it was not intended at present to place any more ships in commission.”
I had seen my last war service, and may now bring my narrative to a conclusion.