On my introduction to my new shipmates I was shown down to the starboard wing berth. I had not been long seated before a rugged-muzzled midshipman came in, and having eyed me for a short time, he sang out with a voice of thunder: ‘Blister my tripes—where the hell did you come from? I suppose you want to stick your grinders (for it was near dinner-time) into some of our a la mode beef;’ and without waiting for a reply, he sat down and sang a song that I shall remember as long as I live. The first verse, being the most moral, I shall give:
A Duchess from Germany
Has lately made her will;
Her body she’s left to be buried,
Her soul to the devil in hell.
This gentleman’s name was Watson; and notwithstanding the song and his blunt manner of speaking, he proved to be a very good fellow, and was the life and soul of the mess.
I must now describe our starboard wing berth and compare it with the manners and customs of the present day. In this ship our mess-place had canvas screens scrubbed white, wainscot tables, well polished, Windsor chairs, and a pantry fitted in the wing to stow our crockery and dinner traps with safety. The holystones and hand organs,[[9]] in requisition twice a week, made our orlop deck as white as the boards of any crack drawing room, the strictest attention being paid to cleanliness; and everything had the appearance of Spartan simplicity. We used to sit down to a piece of salt beef, with sour krout, and dine gloriously with our pint of black-strap[[10]] after, ready at all calls, and as fit for battle as for muster. Here mark the difference. The cockpit abandoned, and my lords and gentlemen ushered into the gunroom fitted up in luxurious style, with window curtains, blinds, buffets, wine coolers, silver forks, and many other appendages of that delicate nature, unknown in the good old times; and, if I am correctly informed, a brass knocker[[11]] fixed at the gunroom door, which ever and anon announces the approach of the mighty members with as much pomp as a Roman consul with his lictors thundering at the door for admittance. But enough of this. When war comes we shall see.
When I joined the Panther, Mr. Price, the purser, who I knew nothing of, furnished me with everything I stood in need of, as the ship was hurried off to join Lord Howe and I had not time to get fitted out. When the ship was paid, he refused to take any remuneration when I called to repay the obligation, but said he would do the same again with pleasure. I stand indebted to his kindness, which I shall remember for ever with heart-felt gratitude and respect for his memory, and grieved I am that the service should have lost so good an officer, lamented by every person who had the pleasure of his acquaintance.
We sailed (I think) in May with the grand fleet under Lord Howe, to cruise in the North Sea after the Dutch. On our arrival in the Downs, Captain Piercy, from ill health, left the ship, to the great regret of every officer and man on board, and was succeeded in the command by Captain Robert Simonton.
Nor he unworthy to conduct the host,