ACTION BETWEEN THE ENGLISH FRIGATE UNICORN AND THE FRENCH FRIGATE LA TRIBUNE, JUNE 8, 1796
When this encounter took place Charles Austen had been at sea for scarcely two years. Such an experience would have given the boy a great notion of the excitement and joys in store for him in a seafaring life. Such, however, was not to be his luck. Very little important work fell to his share till at least twenty years later, and for one of his ardent temperament this was a somewhat hard trial. His day came at last, after years of routine, but when he was still young enough to enjoy a life of enterprise and of action. Even half a century later his characteristic energy was never more clearly shown than in his last enterprise as Admiral in command during the second Burmese War (1852), when he died at the front.
Francis, during the four years when he was a midshipman, had only one change of captain. After serving under Captain Smith in the Perseverance, he went to the Crown, under Captain the Honourable W. Cornwallis, and eventually followed him into the Minerva. Admiral Cornwallis was afterwards in command of the Channel Fleet, blockading Brest in the Trafalgar year.
Charles had an even better experience than Francis had, for he was under Captain Thomas Williams all the time he was midshipman, first in the Dædalus, then in the Unicorn, and last in the Endymion.
The fact that both brothers served for nearly all their times as midshipmen under the same captain shows that they earned good opinions. If midshipmen were not satisfactory they were very speedily transferred, as we hear was the lot of poor Dick Musgrove.
“He had been several years at sea, and had in the course of those removals to which all midshipmen are liable, and especially such midshipmen as every captain wishes to get rid of, been six months on board Captain Frederick Wentworth’s frigate, the Laconia; and from the Laconia he had, under the influence of his captain, written the only two letters which his father and mother had ever received from him during the whole of his absence, that is to say the only two disinterested letters; all the rest had been mere applications for money. In each letter he had spoken well of his captain—mentioning him in strong, though not perfectly well-spelt praise, as ‘a fine dashing felow, only two perticular about the schoolmaster.’”
No doubt Dick’s journal and sketches of the coast line were neither accurate nor neatly executed.
William Price’s time as a midshipman is, one would think, a nearer approach to the careers of Francis and Charles. Certainly the account given of his talk seems to bear much resemblance to the stories Charles, especially, would have to tell on his return.
“William was often called on by his uncle to be the talker. His recitals were amusing in themselves to Sir Thomas, but the chief object in seeking them was to understand the reciter, to know the young man by his histories, and he listened to his clear, simple, spirited details with full satisfaction—seeing in them the proof of good principles, professional knowledge, energy, courage and cheerfulness—everything that could deserve or promise well. Young as he was, William had already seen a great deal. He had been in the Mediterranean—in the West Indies—in the Mediterranean again—had been often taken on shore by favour of his captain, and in the course of seven years had known every variety of danger which sea and war together could offer. With such means in his power he had a right to be listened to; and though Mrs. Norris could fidget about the room, and disturb everybody in quest of two needlefuls of thread or a second-hand shirt button in the midst of her nephew’s account of a shipwreck or an engagement, everybody else was attentive; and even Lady Bertram could not hear of such horrors unmoved, or without sometimes lifting her eyes from her work to say, ‘Dear me! How disagreeable! I wonder anybody can ever go to sea.’
“To Henry Crawford they gave a different feeling. He longed to have been at sea, and seen and done and suffered as much. His heart was warmed, his fancy fired, and he felt a great respect for a lad who, before he was twenty, had gone through such bodily hardships, and given such proofs of mind. The glory of heroism, of usefulness, of exertion, of endurance, made his own habits of selfish indulgence appear in shameful contrast; and he wished he had been a William Price, distinguishing himself and working his way to fortune and consequence with so much self-respect and happy ardour, instead of what he was!”