I visited, in company with Captain Ryk, the Ganges, a ship of the line of eighty-four guns, built a few years since by Indian workmen, entirely of Teak-wood. This hard and heavy timber is not only very lasting, but has also the great excellence of not cracking in a warm climate. We were received on board the ship with great attention, in the absence of Captain Campbell, by Lieutenant Wright, who did the honours in a very friendly manner. I cannot sufficiently admire the neatness observed in this ship. They have an excellent mode of taking care of the rings, bolts, weapons, and other iron, brass, and copper utensils, on board of English ships of war. The forepart of the gun-deck is an extraordinary apartment, the iron implements are varnished, and the others polished and arranged along the whitewashed sides, so as to form figures and inscriptions. When strangers visit the ship a sort of chandelier is lighted, which produces a very beautiful effect. When we left the ship, Lieutenant Wright had the politeness to take us in his barge to the inner harbour, where the ships are laid up in ordinary. As we left the Ganges, she saluted us with nineteen guns.
Ships in commission are painted black and white; when they go into ordinary this paint is scraped off, and they are then painted brownish yellow; if not again to be employed in active service they are painted entirely black. We went on board of the Nelson, of one hundred and twenty guns, in the harbour. She is a new ship, but lay in ordinary, having been already affected with the destructive dry-rot. The injured planks had been removed, and at present she is entirely sound. The Nelson, Ganges, and all the recently built ships of the line have round sterns. All of them have the wood work necessary for their equipment, as for gun-carriages, &c. on board. In order to preserve this and the deck from the influence of the weather, a large roof is built over them. From the Nelson we went on board the royal yacht, the Royal George, which I had already seen, but which I willingly examined once more, on account of her elegant construction and great luxury. The magnificence of the royal apartments, and those for the suite, are very strongly contrasted with the birth-deck for the crew, which is both dark and confined. We remarked here a patent iron camboose, which cooked all the food by means of steam.
Having purchased the necessary provisions, especially Gamble’s preserved meats, which keep fresh for a year, I went on the 4th of May, at 4 P. M. on board the steam ship, Sir Francis Drake, to go to Plymouth, distant one hundred and fifty miles. The engine is of seventy horse-power. The ship was not very comfortably arranged; the main cabin was so near the boiler that the heat was intolerable. Our passengers amounted to thirty persons, only eight of whom were cabin passengers. About five o’clock a gun was fired as a signal for sailing, and we stood out to sea. Spithead road with the shipping lay to the left, and our course was between the land and the Isle of Wight. Cowes with its beautiful gardens presented an agreeable sight, about a mile to the westward of which stands a castle called Egypt. It began to grow dark. We saw on the right hand the extremely bright lights of Hurst-castle, and on the left the light-house of the Needles, on the western extremity of the Isle of Wight, which I visited two years ago. The white rocks of the Needles were visible in the dark, and from the effects of frequent storms have an entirely peculiar appearance. As we passed this dangerous place, the wind increased, and the motion of the little ship, with the continual jarring of the steam-engine, became exceedingly disagreeable. As the birth allotted to me was too short, I was obliged to place my mattrass upon the floor. The heat and strokes of the adjacent steam-engine, the coughing of a catarrhous Irishman, and the squalling of a child in the next cabin, long prevented me from sleeping. It was not until near morning that I began to slumber, but was soon waked again by the insupportable heat. I sought refuge upon deck, where nearly all the company, without excepting the captain, were unwell.
The rocky English coast was in view in almost every direction; the town of Dartmouth appears to be very finely situated. After a rather long and unpleasant passage, we arrived in Plymouth Bay at 1 o’clock, P. M. We passed a little to the left of the breakwater, a dam intended to protect Plymouth road from the south-west storms, begun thirteen years ago, but not yet completed: we were gratified with the view of Mount Edgecumbe Park and Drake’s Island, on which is a small fort that forms a very beautiful view from the three towns, Plymouth, with the citadel; Stonehouse and Plymouth Dock, now called Devonport. This dock, with all the ships building and repairing there, furnishes a beautiful and imposing prospect.
After my arrival I paid a visit to the authorities of this place. The admiral in chief, Sir James Saumarez, a worthy man, seventy years of age, excited in me an extraordinary degree of interest. He has served England for fifty-six years, and during the last war commanded for five years in the Eastern Ocean. His actions are known to all the world, and caused him to be distinguished with the grand cross of the order of the Bath, which he has worn for twenty-four years.
Among the remarkable things of this place, is the court-house, which is a new, oblong building, having on one of its small sides a broad staircase leading to a portico, with four Ionic columns. The hall is large and very conveniently arranged with galleries for spectators. Beneath the dock for the prisoners is a trap-door, by which persons are brought from the prison on the ground floor, for trial, and carried back again, without being brought into contact with the public. The six cells for prisoners in the lower part of the house are all arched with stone, and furnished with iron bedsteads. The doors are of stout oak plank, studded with iron; a small opening allows air and light to enter, though very sparingly. The prisoners can walk daily for exercise in a corridor, twelve paces in length, by three in breadth: they have a miserable existence. We left this granite and marble abode of sorrow with very unpleasant impressions. Scarcely had we left it, when our eyes fell upon a monument, building upon a rock, which is to be a column one hundred and one feet high, commemorating the change of the name of the town, from Plymouth Dock to Devonport. This work did not dispel the disagreeable feeling caused by the prison. Not far distant from this monument stands a Gothic church, and near this a school-house, in the Egyptian style. The crowding together within so narrow a space of such various styles of architecture, exhibits a singular, I cannot say an agreeable sight. We also examined the market, which is furnished with numerous covered galleries, in which provisions, fish for instance, are displayed upon marble tables. But marble is so common here, that the foot-walks are paved with it: houses are also built therewith. The houses in Devonport are not handsome: some of the old ones are entirely covered with slate, which produces a disagreeable impression. In the court-house there is a fire-place made of slate.
On the 7th of May we examined the dock-yard; there are eight ships here in actual service, mounting three hundred and sixty-six guns; sixty-five in ordinary, with three thousand five hundred and twenty guns, and twenty-two building, which will mount upwards of seven hundred and twenty; making in all, four thousand six hundred and six guns.
The dock-yard, with its admirable regulation, is perfectly described by Dupin in his excellent travels in Great Britain. The work is known to most readers, and for an accurate description of the dock I refer them thereto. The entrance is really beautiful; you behold the greater part of the dock-yard, which is terrace-shaped, beneath you; on the right hand is the church and some offices, opposite to which are two cannon employed more for show than defence. The houses are built of the gray marble-like lime-stone, which is so common here. A new magazine is rendered entirely fire-proof by this stone and iron; the different store-rooms being separated by iron doors, so that in case of fire it can be insulated. The rope-walk is a building two stories high, with walks two hundred yards long. All the ships, as in other English docks, are built under roofs, which are sometimes covered with slate, though mostly with copper. To my surprise, the water is pumped out of the dry docks by a horse-mill instead of a steam-engine. In one of the dry docks we saw the unfortunate ship Fortitudo[I.2] repairing. All her timbers were decayed; her copper destroyed, and she required three new masts; her repairs cost the house of Roelands of Antwerp eight thousand pounds. There is at this dock a huge iron kettle, in which ship timber is boiled in sea water in order to protect it from the dry rot. About two thousand two hundred men are daily employed in this yard, and some earn thirty-six shillings a week.
After a stay of about two hours at the dock-yard, I went in company with the admiral to Hamoaze, where the fleets in service and dismantled lay at anchor. We went on board the flag ship Britannia, and were received in a very friendly manner by Captain Pipon, who showed us the ship throughout: every thing was as admirable as in the ships at Portsmouth. From the Britannia, which saluted us with twenty-one guns, we went on board the St. Vincent, which in every respect resembled the Nelson at Portsmouth.
On the 6th of May, which was Sunday, and the town consequently very quiet, I went first to visit the marine barracks, and thence to Plymouth, which I had not yet seen. It is about a mile distant from Stonehouse. The entrance is agreeable, exhibiting several new houses, and a large quadrangular building, ornamented with columns, which contains the theatre and Royal Hotel. But as soon as one advances a little farther into the town the scene changes, the streets are all narrow and precipitous, badly paved, and without side-walks; the houses are badly built, and angular, and the sun cannot shine into the streets. The harbour that is forming at Catwater appears to be visited, and the bay presents a noble prospect. We passed by a road cut in the rock to the citadel, to visit the vice-governor, Major General Sir John Cameron; but he was sick. We walked round the ramparts of the citadel, and enjoyed at every point an admirable view, to which the fine weather contributed its full proportion. At noon we walked to Stoke, a village in which the inhabitants of Plymouth have country seats. At this place it is customary, as far as practicable, to bury the dead on Sunday; we therefore met funeral processions in most of the streets, which did not particularly raise our spirits.