I shall mention a few strange fellows we had on board, and first Mr. Quinton the mate. This gentleman was a good sailor, and was very fond of gin grog, and used to say it agreed with him so well and made his flesh so firm. It was determined one day to count how many glasses he drank from morning until evening; and, if I remember correctly, twenty-six tumblers of good Hollands and water made the number; for in the good old times we never sported Cockney gin. I must in justice declare that Mr. Quinton was no drunkard; I never saw him disguised with liquor the whole time I belonged to the ship. The next was Mr. Stevens, who went by the nickname of Tommy Bowline, a rough knot; full of wise saws and strange dry sayings, but rather slack in his movements, and was what we call a hard officer and droll middy. When belonging to a guard-ship commanded by Sir Roger Curtis, while lying at Spithead the mizen topsail was ordered to be loosed, to swing the ship the right way. Tommy Bowline was the first to go aloft and was highly complimented by Sir Roger for his activity, saying ‘You are a fine fellow, Mr. Stevens; a most active officer, Mr. Stevens; you are a wonder, Mr. Stevens.’ Now it unfortunately happened that Tommy was left behind by the other midshipmen and was last on the yard. Sir Roger observing this called out ‘I recall all my compliments, Mr. Stevens; you are a damned lubber, Mr. Stevens; a blockhead, Mr. Stevens; come down, Mr. Stevens.’ This poor Tommy never heard the last of.
Our gunner (McKinnon) was another strange hand. He was troubled with sore eyes and would sit in his cabin damning them from morning till night. Two of our men having deserted while in Yarmouth Roads, our boat, manned by midshipmen with Lieutenant Jeynes, left the ship in the evening and pulled for Cowes, where we arrived about eleven at night. Mr. Jeynes having received some information respecting the deserters, set off in the boat for Ryde, leaving me at Cowes with two marines to go round by land and meet him there. I had no money to get any refreshment, and never shall I forget the fatigue I went through that night. After pulling in the boat thirteen miles, I had to walk seven miles on a wild goose chase, for we never heard anything more of the runaways; and the wind shifting, we had to pull all the way back to Yarmouth. Before I close my account of the Orestes, I must say a word or two respecting Lieutenant Jeynes (letting the law of Solon sleep for a day). He was without exception the most cold-blooded and bad fellow I ever met with. I have seen him thrash the men with the end of a rope in the most unfeeling manner, until he was tired, making use of the most abusive language; and for his tyranny was obliged to quit the ship; but, to give the devil his due, [he] was what we call a bit of a sailor, and if he pleased (which was seldom) could make himself agreeable. In the year 1793, the Orestes was lost in the Indian Seas and every soul perished.
NAMES OF OFFICERS
Manley Dixon, Esq., Captain.
An admiral and K.C.B. He commanded the Lion, 64, when the William Tell, 84, was taken. The Foudroyant, 80, and Penelope, 36, in company. He was also port admiral at Plymouth. Since dead.—[Marshall, i. 375.]
Thos. Jeynes, Lieutenant.
Dead. I have said enough of him. A commander on the retired list.
[George] Patterson, Master.
Uncertain. Was master attendant abroad.
Dusautoy, Lieutenant of Marines.