J. A. Gardner, Midshipman. [Ord., 8th Feb. 1782; A.B., 1 Oct. 1782; Mid., 1 Jan. 1783.]
A commander.
SALISBURY, 50
Stern tyrants whom their cruelties renown.—Addison.
I joined this old devil of a ship, properly called the Hell Afloat, in December 1783 in Portsmouth Harbour. James Bradby, Esq., captain, and in June 1784 hoisted the flag, white and then red, at the fore, of Vice-Admiral John Campbell, F.R.S., as commander-in-chief and Governor of Newfoundland, and sailed soon after. Nothing remarkable happened on the passage to St. John’s, where we arrived in July; the following men of war composing the squadron:—
| Salisbury | 50 | {Vice-Admiral Campbell. {Captain James Bradby |
| Santa Leocadia | 36 | Captain Alexander Edgar. |
| Proselyte | 32 | Captain Jonathan Faulknor, jun. |
| Æolus | 32 | Captain |
| Thisbe | 28 | Captain |
| Merlin | 18 | Captain J. Lumsdale |
| Echo | 18 | Captain Nichols. |
| Thorn | 18 | Captain Lechmere. |
| Lawrence brig | Lieutenant Carter, acting. |
If I remember correctly it was this year that an extraordinary court martial was held on the master of the Proselyte for cutting the lanyards of the weather main shrouds when the people were up reefing topsails. The charge not being proved, he was acquitted. While laying in the harbour, a French frigate with a commodore came in, saluted the admiral, and remained a few days. The 28th October is the time for the men of war to sail for England; but owing to unfavourable winds, we were not able to leave St. John’s before November. The admiral having given permission for any person that pleased to take home a dog, 75 were actually embarked. We took our departure with a sloop of war in company. I am not certain whether it was this year or the next, when about 60 leagues to the SW of Scilly we were covered in the night with a flock of crows and caught several. When near the Channel we fell in with a vessel from the coast of Africa in want of provisions, the crew living on parrots and monkeys, and in great distress; supplied them with provisions and parted company, and after a passage of near three weeks arrived at Spithead, and then into harbour, where we remained as a half-and-half guard-ship until May, when the admiral hoisted his flag, and we soon after sailed for our station, in company with a sloop of war.
When on the banks of Newfoundland, in a thick fog at night, going about three knots, a field of ice struck us on the weather bow and carried away the starboard bumpkin and head sails, besides knocking off several sheets of copper. On the banks we picked up a cask of brandy covered with weeds and barnacles, and saw the yards and spars of the line-of-battle ships that were lost on and near the banks in the gale of September 1782 on their passage to England from the West Indies. Fell in with several islands of ice. Arrived at St. John’s, and remained there the usual time. We had a brewery on shore which supplied the squadron with spruce beer.[[33]] I was on shore at this brewery when one of our men unfortunately fell into the boiling coppers and died the same day in a most deplorable condition. It was said that the beer was sent off (of course by mistake) to the squadron, and I think some little demur was made about drinking it and it was sent back.
On the 29th of October (1785) we left St. John’s with a thundering gale right aft. A merchant who had never been out of St. John’s harbour took a passage for England. We had a tremendous sea following that almost turned his brain with horror. One sea that measured heights with the mizen peak had a prodigious effect upon him, and with a look I cannot describe, he called out, ‘Lord, Lord, Lord, Have mercy on me, and pray do let go the anchor!’ His bawling out so horribly, frightened the man at the wheel so that the ship was in danger of broaching to. This gale lashed us on at a devil of a rate, and we had 294 and 296 knots on the log in 24 hours. Our passage was very short as far as the Lizard, when the wind shifted to the eastward, and I think it was nineteen days before we arrived at Spithead, having a dish of turnips[[34]] all the way up Channel. Went into Portsmouth harbour, where the old Salisbury was paid off the latter end of 1785 or beginning of 1786.
This was the most hateful and disagreeable ship I ever had my foot on board of—so unlike the Panther. Mastheading upon every trifling occasion. The senior midshipmen (with the exception of a few) were tyrants; and petty tyrants are generally the worst. The captain was a very good man at times, but often harsh and severe in his remarks. He once told me (and I have never forgotten it) I would never be fit for anything but the boatswain’s storeroom. This was because I was down with the keys in my turn, a midshipman being always sent to see that lights are not taken into the storeroom except in a lantern, which is the custom in every man of war. He had missed me in the watch and thought I was skulking; and though I explained to him how it happened, it was all to no purpose. Great men don’t like to be put right. I well remember the cutting taunt; but I thank God his prophecy did not come to pass, as the certificates I am proud to say I produced from some of the first officers in the service will testify; and when I went to pass for lieutenant at Somerset House, the commissioners told me my certificates would get me promoted without interest. Upon this hint I transmitted them to Earl Spencer, the first lord of the admiralty, and by return of post he gave me a commission and appointed me second lieutenant of the Hind, 28. This may be considered as sounding my own trumpet. It may be so; but it is the truth. Enough of this digression, and let me return to the old bundle of boards and relate a few circumstances.