"I do myself the honour to inform you of the safe arrival of the ship Catherine in this port from Gibraltar, which place she left on the 8th instant; but I am sorry to add that Captain Fenn was very badly wounded, on the 13th inst., in latitude 38 deg. 35 min. N., longitude 3 deg. 20 E.,[22] by a shot in an action with a French privateer. On that day a sail hove in sight on the larboard bow, on a wind, standing for us. We hoisted ensign and pendant, and fired a gun. She showed St. George's flag and pendant, and stood on until she got into our wake, then bore up directly for us. We prepared everything for action, being suspicious of her; and as soon as it was possible to be understood, by Captain Fenn's order, I hailed and asked from whence she came? She answered, from Gibraltar, and was in distress for water. I ordered her to haul her wind immediately, or we should fire into her. She still cried out, 'Water! water!' and came on, when I immediately pointed one of the stern guns, and ordered fire. I then jumped to the opposite gun, pointed it, and ordered fire. This order was countermanded, in consequence of her crying 'Mercy!' and 'Water!' But as soon as the smoke of the first gun cleared away, Captain Fenn saw with his glass that they were getting ready to change their colours, and were pointing their bow-guns. He called out, 'It is a Frenchman, fire away!' He no sooner spoke than he got the contents of the second; but before our guns could be fired again he grappled, and commenced a heavy fire with grape and musketry. I immediately seized a musket and shot the captain, who was going to give orders through his trumpet. I sung out, 'I have shot the captain! Victory, my boys!' and we gave him three cheers to advance. They returned the same, and came on bravely; when poor Fenn, with his boarding-pike in his hand, was shot through the body. He addressed himself to me: 'I am shot; but fight on, my dear fellow.' I encouraged my men, and soon repelled the boarders with very great slaughter.
"In about half an hour, like savages, they sang out and came on again; but were again repulsed with considerable loss. This caused such great confusion among them that they got their grapplings unhooked and took a broad sheer off; which I improved immediately by sheering likewise, and got two of the great guns into him before he could get to again. This, no doubt, damped their courage; but they again boarded, with three cheers, and several succeeded in getting over our nettings into the poop; but our men, like heroes, made a bold push, and either killed or wounded every man who made his appearance; and those poor devils who had the impudence to come on the poop were all shoved overboard with the pikes fast in their bodies. This was the sickening job, for they made a terrible noise, and got their grapplings unhooked; when I ordered the man at the wheel to luff the ship to give a broadside. Unfortunately, the ship was unmanageable, her sails and running rigging flying in all directions; but, as a substitute, we gave them the stern-chasers, entirely loaded with grape, as long as it could be of service. I then gave all the hands a good glass of grog, and, like smart fellows, they soon got the vessel on her course again. This being done, I ran to the captain and dressed his wounds. He was then apparently dying; but, through a miracle, we have preserved his life. He is in a tolerably fair way, and on shore, under the doctor's charge.
"The privateer was a fine, lateen-rigged vessel, carrying two large sails, and her decks as full of men as possible—we judge from seventy to eighty. We must have killed a great number, as a great quantity of blood rose on the water. It appeared to me a miracle that none of our men were killed, as the grape and musket-balls came in like hail. We had only two men slightly wounded, one of whom was at the wheel."
Little comment is necessary to supplement this narrative, except that the Catherine's loss was very trivial for so severe an action. It is impossible to explain these things, which so frequently crop up in the reports of battles, both by land and sea. A whole company or a ship's crew comes almost unscathed out of a "hail of lead and iron." Well, either the "hail" was not quite as thick as was imagined in the heat of action or the balls found every gap between the men. The Catherine would not, of course, have more than about five-and-thirty hands, if as many, and they would be scattered about at the guns until the Frenchmen endeavoured to board. Mr. Robertson's graphic and circumstantial story is quite worthy of credence, and he was certainly an able second in command.
Another spirited incident of a similar description is the defence of the Fortune, armed ship, Captain Hodgson, against a French privateer, on April 13th, 1811. The odds were, as usual on such occasions, very greatly in favour of the privateer, which was a brig, carrying 16 guns and about 120 men; while the Fortune, which was not intended for aggression, had 8 small guns and 2 swivels, and 19 persons on board, all told.
The action took place in the Atlantic some distance west of Ireland, and lasted for an hour and twenty minutes. The Frenchman, as usual, hoisted English colours at first, and, getting within hail, desired Captain Hodgson to send his boat on board. This was too stale a trick to meet with any success: "If you have any business with me, send your boat here," was the reply.
Failing in his ruse, the privateer captain immediately hoisted French colours and fired, first a single shot between the Fortune's masts and then a broadside, which was promptly returned with 100 per cent. interest. Then the enemy, very naturally, sought to bring matters to a conclusion by boarding; but, in spite of their numbers, they could not obtain any footing on the Fortune's deck. Eight of them managed to get into the jolly-boat, which hung from the stern—a very convenient method of boarding, provided that no one happens to be handy with a sharp knife. Unluckily for the eight Frenchmen, an English seaman with a cool head and a keen knife happened to be close by—possibly he was steering—and in a moment the jolly-boat's tackles were cut, and she disappeared with her freight. On the forecastle, however, a considerable number had got on board at one moment, but Hodgson, nothing daunted, ordered a volley and led a charge with such impetuosity that the enemy was driven from the deck—mostly overboard.
The Fortune's colours were shot away twice, and, after the second time, were nailed to the gaff by a young lad, who, of course, immediately became a mark for the enemy's small-arms; but it is said that he very coolly completed his operations, encouraging the Frenchmen to "fire away." This is very probably true; it is just the kind of thing an English boy delights in doing—more readily, perhaps, than one of more experience.
The Fortune, however, in spite of the sustained and courageous resistance of her company, was soon in a bad way: her sails riddled, her rigging cut to pieces, and too large a proportion of her crew wounded or killed, it seemed inevitable that she must surrender; but a lucky shot—or rather, let us say, a skilful shot, and give the gunner the credit, instead of "luck"—brought down the privateer's foretopmast. The "Fortunes" raised a hearty cheer, and the enemy, hampered by the wreck, sheered off, receiving a parting kick in the shape of a broadside. Hodgson and his men hurried up to repair damages, expecting a renewal of the attack; but the privateers had had what is known in sporting circles as a "bellyful," and did not come up to the scratch again. Out of her small ship's company, the Fortune had four killed and six wounded—which only leaves nine to fight!