CAPTURE OF THE FRENCH ARMED SHIPS
However, they chased, and the others kept their wind, paying little heed. At seven o'clock Talbot fired a shot at them, upon which they hoisted their colours and formed line. The Duke, to windward, attacked first; Talbot afterwards engaged the Marquis d'Antin for three hours, when she struck, though the Prince Frederick was for a while between two fires, the Louis Erasmé getting on her bow. When the Marquis d'Antin surrendered the other attempted to flee, but was caught and captured. Meanwhile, Captain Morecock had been hotly engaged with the Notre Dame de Deliverance, which, however, realising that her consorts had struck, crowded sail and contrived to escape—the Duke being probably hampered by damage aloft.
The casualties were not heavy on either side, but the two French ships were dismasted.
Reaching Kinsale on July 30th, the news of the immense value of the prizes caused special care to be used; they were escorted to Bristol by three men-of-war, and thence the treasure was conveyed to London in forty-five waggons. This tremendous cavalcade made its way through the city to the Tower, colours flying, bands playing, and a strong guard of bluejackets marching with it.
The amount of treasure may be imagined from the fact that each seaman's share came to £850; the officers, of course, receiving much larger sums, in proportion to their rank. The owners' share was not less than £700,000; and the Scottish rebellion—"the '45"—having just broken out, they offered the money as a loan to the Government.
Captain Talbot is said to have behaved with great kindness and generosity to his prisoners, permitting the officers to retain all their valuables and their swords, and presenting each seaman with twenty guineas when they were landed. The enemy, we are told, was most anxious to ransom the ships, but this, of course, was out of the question; and subsequently some of the crews revealed hiding-places in which considerable treasure was stowed in the "linings," or double sides, receiving a handsome present for their pains. Furthermore, in overhauling the cargo, the British seamen every now and then came across a "wedge of gold."
After this Commodore Talbot decided to remain on shore and enjoy his fortune; he joined the body of merchants, who determined to fit out another squadron, the command being entrusted to a man of remarkable character, whose career as a privateer captain we shall now proceed to trace.
Among eighteenth-century privateersmen there is no more honourable name than that of George Walker. He was, of course, a contemporary of Fortunatus Wright, and Sir William Laird Clowes, the eminent naval historian, very truly remarks of these two men that they "did as much to uphold British prestige at sea as any captains of the Royal Navy"; the case might, indeed, be put in stronger language, for there were unhappily a good many instances at this period, in which naval commanders cut a somewhat sorry figure, and Walker himself, as we shall see, was witness upon one occasion of a lack of zeal and enterprise—to put it mildly—on their part which was in striking contrast to the intrepidity and resource displayed by him upon every occasion.
Beyond casual, but invariably complimentary allusions in naval histories, we should have known but little of George Walker, had it not been for the industry of an ardent admirer, who served under him on nearly all his cruises, and subsequently wrote an account of them. The writer withholds both his name and his rank, and tells his story with great simplicity, prompted solely by his admiration of his former chief, and the desire of vindicating his name as a great seaman and a born leader of men; for Walker was, at that time, in gaol for debt, owing to some dispute with his owners, who do not appear to have treated him with the generosity due to so faithful a servant. This is the sordid side of privateering, which, as has been before remarked, is too much in evidence; we need not, however, concern ourselves overmuch with the question of George Walker's financial dealings with his principals; he may, for all we know, have muddled his accounts, but we are prepared to go bail for his honesty of intention. There is abundant evidence of his character in this little book, and no one who reads it will entertain a doubt as to his absolute integrity.
The narrator, in his Introduction, dwells much upon Walker's unwillingness to have his exploits discussed or published. It was with the utmost difficulty that he was persuaded to sanction the publication of this book, and when, in accordance with his strict injunctions, the copy was submitted for his approval before going to the printer, his deletions disposed of nearly one-third of the matter; "at which," says the writer, "I am not so much disobliged by the shortening of the performance as at the loss of real truths which would have illustrated the chief personage of my work. And though this account may speak to the modesty of the gentleman himself, yet it is so far paradoxical that it takes greatly from his merit.... I will only say of him herein, as Mr. Waller does of good writers: