Privateers and Privateering

by Edward Phillips Statham

Captain Savage Mostyn, of the Hampton Court, hung about the French ships without firing a shot, waiting for the Dreadnought to come up, instead of endeavouring to disable them aloft; and he also cut an extremely sorry figure at the court-martial; but his lame and almost incredible excuses were accepted. He was acquitted, and said to have "done his duty as an experienced good officer, and as a man of courage and conduct." There seemed to be a determination to let off everybody just then; but the public did not let off Mostyn, for when he sailed from Portsmouth a year later, still in command of the Hampton Court, it was to the cry of "All's well! There's no Frenchman in the way!"

Now, it is a sad thing to have to say all this of naval commanders; and still more humiliating to reflect that, had George Walker, master-mariner and privateer skipper, been in command of that squadron, no such fiasco would have occurred; but this is most undoubtedly true. Walker would have had those French treasure ships had he been in command of the Hampton Court, as surely as he was then a prisoner on board one of them, watching with shame and disgust the paltry tactics of his countrymen, and compelled subsequently to listen to the boastful and disparaging comments of the Frenchmen.

Arrived at Brest, the Englishmen had no cause to complain of their treatment. Walker had by this time so ingratiated himself with the captain of the Fleuron, that the latter acceded to his request that the crew of the Mars might be landed at once, on the day after their arrival, and might receive every possible consideration until they could be exchanged; and he resisted strenuously Walker's request that he might go and see personally to the comfort of his men, begging to know in what he had fallen short, to be thus deprived of his esteemed company. Walker politely insisting, the French captain gave him a most flattering letter of introduction to the Governor, who liberated the English captain and all his officers on parole, and treated them handsomely in every respect.

They left the Fleuron none too soon. On the following day, while Walker was in the act of writing to the captain to beg him to send him his letter of credit, which was in a tin box with his commission, people came running in crying that the Fleuron had blown up. It was, indeed, too true; and the catastrophe was entirely due to the gross carelessness of the gunner, who, landing the powder, left some four or five barrels in the magazine for saluting purposes, and did not even have the loose powder, spilt in emptying the cartridges, swept up under his own eye. Some stupid fellows, engaged afterwards in this work, took a decrepit old lantern down with them; the handle broke, the flame ignited the loose powder, and that was the end of the Fleuron; she burnt to the water's edge, and then went down, treasure and all; and the guns having been left loaded—it seems almost incredible, but we have the account of an eye-witness—kept going off at intervals, preventing the approach of boats, etc., which might have saved many of the crew. Walker had to mourn the loss of his friend, the courteous and generous captain, and also that of his letter of credit—a serious temporary inconvenience.

We must not dwell in detail upon the sojourn of Walker and his crew in France. Their exchange was arranged in a few weeks, Walker, by his courage, tact, and ability smoothing over every difficulty as it arose, and making many friends in the process. Indeed, the simple and straightforward account by the narrator of his cheerful and undaunted bearing under sundry incidental trials which arose, from lack of means, etc., fills one with admiration of the man. They arrived at Weymouth on February 28th, 1745, and Walker lost no time in reporting himself to his owners at Dartmouth, who, though they had heard, through the recaptured Mars, of his whereabouts, and had sent him fresh letters of credit, scarcely expected him so soon.

The Mars being repurchased, the two vessels were again fitted out for a cruise, the very cautious captain of the Boscawen being replaced by Walker's first lieutenant, who, however, was placed in command of the Mars. Walker selected the Boscawen as his own command, as being the finer vessel and the better sailer; she was a French-built ship, a prize in the last war, mounting 28 nine-pounders. Walker increased her armament to 30 guns, twelve and nine-pounders, and shipped a crew of 314 men. Thus she was, as the writer says, "perhaps the most complete privateer ever sent from England"; but she was not as good as she looked, and Walker had cause afterwards to regret that he had increased her weights, for she was structurally what an English shipwright would describe as a "slopped" ship; cheaply built, and inefficiently fastened.

However, she was good enough for some brilliant work, with her able skipper and an enthusiastic crew, in the shipping of which there had been a passage of arms between Walker and one Taylor, captain of an Exeter privateer then fitting out, who found Walker in such favour that he could not obtain a full crew; so he had recourse to some very underhand devices to decoy the Boscawen's men, one of whom, with address worthy of his captain, led him into a trap and made a complete fool of him, eventually taking nearly all the men he had succeeded in shipping to make up the Boscawen's crew; while Captain Walker interviewed the owner—whose brother he had been instrumental in getting exchanged in France—and told him what he thought of him and his methods—and no one could talk straighter then Walker, when he found it necessary. There were some very amusing incidents in connection with these doings, which, however, must be omitted for lack of space; we must get to sea again.

Without waiting for the Mars, Walker put to sea on April 19th, 1745, and a month later fell in with the privateer Sheerness, Captain Parnell, and kept company during the night. At daybreak, being then fifty miles west of the Lizard, they sighted eight vessels, evidently in company, and gave chase. The Boscawen left the other astern, and about nine o'clock the enemy formed line, and were soon made out to be armed vessels, awaiting attack. This was odds enough to discourage most men, and the Sheerness being hopelessly astern, no one imagined that Walker intended engaging, though all preparation was made for action.

Reading some suspense and anxiety in the faces of his officers, Walker called them together and addressed them: "Gentlemen, I hope you do not think the number of prizes before us too many. Be assured, by their being armed, they have something on board them worth defending; for I take them to be merchantmen with letters of marque, and homeward bound. Without doubt we shall meet with some opposition, in which I have not the least doubt of your courage; but I see we must here conquer also by a mastership of skill. Be cool, and recollect every man his best senses; for, as we shall be pressed on all sides, let every man do his best in engaging the enemy he sees before him, and then one side need not fear nor take thought for the other. In a word, gentlemen, if you give me your voice for my leading you on, I pawn my life to you, I will bring you off victorious."

Was ever a more masterly speech from a chief to his subordinates? But one reply was possible; the men went to their quarters and the Boscawen sailed on into the thick of the enemy's line, strict orders being issued that, whatever fire they might receive, not a shot was to be returned until the captain gave the word. There were, unfortunately, sixty men sick, and these, with the exception of three, crawled on deck to render what assistance they could, or at least to see the fun.