Vides ut alta stet nive candidum

Soracte, nec jam sustineant onus

Sylvæ laborantes, geluque

Flumina constiterint acuto.

In such a season, unexampled for severity, I joined the Victory in December 1794, in Portsmouth harbour, fitting for the Mediterranean and to receive again the flag of Lord Hood; John Knight, Esq., captain. Had I joined her in St. Fiorenzo Bay at the time I have before stated, I should have been promoted, as those who were before me and many that came after got their commissions as lieutenants; so by this I lost about five months’ rank, and was obliged to go to London to pass my examination, as passing abroad is of no use unless you get promotion on the spot. On my representing to the first lieutenant (Hamilton) that I intended to apply to Captain Knight for permission to go and pass, and requesting him to forward my application, he in the most unhandsome manner said he would do no such thing, and would protest against my getting leave.

Now without flattering myself, I thought I knew the service (without being a conjuror) as well as Lieutenant Hamilton; and although he said it was his intention to send me on board the Commerce de Marseilles to assist in fitting her out at Spithead (notwithstanding that my right arm was hurt and obliged to wear it in a sling), I wrote to Captain Knight on the subject, who immediately granted my request. On my stating this to Lieutenant Hamilton, he said he should still oppose it, adding with a sneer that my promotion he supposed would not be so rapid as I expected. Without taking notice of his remarks I went on shore to take my place in the coach, and on my return the next morning to get my things I found that the ship had gone into dock, and that my chest, and that of another gentleman’s who had lately joined, had not been removed to the hulk, but left in the ship, where it was broke open, and everything I possessed, with the exception of my quadrant, stolen. The other poor fellow suffered the same misfortune.

This was a heart-breaking circumstance to me, as I had just fitted myself out, and, with what I brought home, my loss was considerable. I had nothing left but what I stood in, and most of my pay that I received for the Berwick was expended. My messmates said they were very sorry for the loss I had sustained. Instead of being sorry, they ought to have been ashamed of their gross neglect. One of them had been in the Barfleur with me, and if possible, was more to blame than the rest who were strangers. I am not vindictive, but from that day to this I have hated the sight of a Portsmouth dockyard man. I had little time and less money to get fitted out again before the examination took place, which was early in January; so up to London I went ‘with a heart rather sad.’ I had on a mate’s coat, a red waistcoat and grey trowsers, in which costume I passed my examination. I was so down in spirits before I went in that I made sure I should be turned back. My old and lamented friend and messmate, the late Captain Eaton, went with me and positively pushed me into the room where the commissioners were seated, saying, ‘Damn your eyes,[[114]] Tony, what are you afraid of?’

One of the commissioners (Harmood) was an intimate friend of my father’s; and Sir Samuel Marshall, the deputy comptroller of the navy, was a particular friend of Admiral Parry, my mother’s uncle. To these I was recommended; but notwithstanding I could not get the better of my dread, until Commissioner Harmood, after a few questions had been put to me, said, ‘I think we need not ask any more.’ Captain Clayton, another of the commissioners, in reply said, ‘I shall merely ask one question more. You have a close-reefed main topsail set, blowing a gale of wind; you cannot carry it. Pray, sir, how will you take it in, without splitting the sail?’ Having answered this, but not exactly to his satisfaction, as I started the weather sheet first, and he the lee one, I was told they had done with me, and glad enough I was; particularly so, when they said the certificates I produced ought to get me a commission without interest.

On this hint I transmitted them the next day to Earl Spencer, the first lord of the admiralty. This was on the 9th January 1795, and I returned to Portsmouth on the 14th; but before I went on board I took a stroll in the dockyard, where I met two old messmates, the late Captains Lamb and Wolridge, and on my asking them for news, they said they had just left the commissioner’s office and had heard nothing. However I thought I would just call at the office and take a look, and on my entering the hall where the letters are placed on a table, the first I observed was directed to Lieutenant J. A. Gardner, H.M. ship Victory. I looked at it several times, rubbed my eyes and looked and looked again at what I thought an illusion; but I found what I considered shadow to be substance; for on opening the letter it ran thus: ‘That Earl Spencer had received my memorial on the 11th, and that my appointment as lieutenant had passed the board on the 12th January.’ This eased my mind of a load, and my prospects, that were dark and dismal from the loss I had sustained, brightened up, and with a light heart I waited on Captain Knight to thank him for granting me leave and to show him my letter. He wished me joy and expressed great indignation at the loss of my effects.

I must here state that, besides what I brought home from abroad, I lost twenty new shirts, two suits of uniform, trowsers, waistcoats, boots, etc., etc., in fact everything but my quadrant; and that no doubt would have gone also, but my name was engraved on the brass.