by wicked Daniel,
Who snaps like a cur, and fawns like a spaniel.
From the number of flag officers and captains that were in the Barfleur, we had so many of their followers of every description that it is difficult to remember the whole, and we had six or seven different first lieutenants. However, I shall give as correct a list as possible, but not exactly in rotation. But first I must relate a few anecdotes; and with heart-felt respect for your memory, come forward my old friend Billy Culmer. This gentleman was one of the mates and is or was so well known in the navy that it would be superfluous to say anything respecting him, but for a few anecdotes not generally known which may be interesting.[[76]]
Billy in person was about five feet eight or nine, and stooped; hard features marked with the smallpox; blind in an eye, and a wen nearly the size of an egg under his cheek bone. His dress on a Sunday was a mate’s uniform coat, with brown velvet waistcoat and breeches; boots with black tops; a gold-laced hat, and a large hanger by his side like the sword of John-a-Gaunt. He was proud of being the oldest midshipman in the navy (for he had been in that capacity with Lord Hood since 1757[[77]]), and looked upon young captains and lieutenants with contempt. Being on shore at Gosport on a Sunday in the above costume, he tried to get into a tavern when the people were at church, and was thundering at the door to no purpose, when the late Captain N. H. Eastwood of the Royal Navy happened to be passing at the time in plain clothes, made some observations on his conduct, and said, ‘Mr. Culmer, you are a disgrace to the service.’ Billy at this jumped off the steps, and with his usual oath ‘Damn my two eyes,’—though he had but one—‘but I’ll slit your gullet, you wa wa——,’ and with two or three desperate efforts to draw his sword, he at last succeeded, like Hudibras, in getting it out, and then gave chase to Eastwood, whose lean figure, moving like a ghost, had got the start and was fortunate enough to get into his own house just as Billy came up puffing and blowing and bellowing out, ‘Stop that lanky son of a —— till I make a razee of him.’
In the American War Billy belonged to the Buffalo, 60. I am not certain that he was on board at the time the Dogger Bank action was fought; however, he used to celebrate the praises of his old ship, which bore a distinguished part in that well-fought battle. The Dutch fleet commanded by Admiral Zoutman had a convoy under charge, when our fleet under Vice-Admiral Hyde Parker fell in with them on the Dogger Bank and bore down immediately to give battle. The Dutch admiral formed his line to windward of his convoy, and waited for our fleet, and to his honour be it said that he never fired a gun until our admiral had formed his line within pistol shot, when up went the colours of both nations and then the action began. After several hours’ desperate fighting the Dutch bore away with their convoy for the Texel, and we were so crippled that it was impossible to follow them.
Billy would upon all occasions when sea fights were spoken of sing the following song in honour of his old ship. It was made by a seaman of the Princess Amelia.
’Twas on the fifth of August by dawning of the day,
We spied some lofty sail, my boys, who to leeward of us lay;
They proved to be Dutchmen, with eight sail neat and fine,
We soon bore down upon them, and then we formed the line.