No man could be more attentive at his table, and he would particularly address himself to the midshipmen, and even ask their opinion upon different subjects, to give them confidence. Mrs. Calder was very fond of boat-sailing, and we had a large double banked cutter in which she would go to Spithead when blowing very fresh, and carrying sail as if in chase until the boat’s gunwale was under, so that everyone thought she was mad; and very few liked the trip except in fine weather, as she would always feel offended if any attempt was made to take in sail.

Among the many first lieutenants, we had one that was very pedantic. I shall not mention his name, but his nickname was Soap-Suds. The signal being made for all midshipmen, the order[[81]] was that a preparative flag would be hoisted before any manœuvre began, but when hauled down it was immediately to take place. Now not content with what was written in the order book, he addressed the midshipmen as follows: ‘The idea strikes me thus, that when the preparative is hauled down, the evo-lu-ti-on will most certainly commence, and this pennant is your signal.’

We had another strange first lieutenant—this was Billy Chantrell, well known in the service. In giving his orders at night he used to say, ‘Call me at six, and don’t come bothering me about blowing and raining and all that damned nonsense.’ I was with him in three ships and never met with so droll and strange a fellow. In passing Fairlight, near Hastings, on our way from the Downs to Spithead, Chantrell, pointing out to me the cliff near the church on Fairlight Down, said, ‘Jemmy, how would you like to be perched up there in the winter?’ Little did he imagine that in some years after, when the war broke out and signal stations were erected along the coast, he should be the first officer appointed to this very spot, and I, the last; which was the fact.

We led a very lazy life at Spithead for several months, and it was expected we should strike upon our beef bones, as we never shifted our berth. We had nothing to do but row guard and go for fresh beef. Captain Bourmaster lived at Tichfield, and if anything particular happened a boat was sent with a midshipman to Hellhead or near it with the orders. On one occasion Mr. S——s, a midshipman, was dispatched in the cutter and took some of the boat’s crew with him to Tichfield. On their return, passing by a farmyard, a flock of ducks and geese began to quack and hiss at them. The midshipman considered this as a declaration of war, and ordered his party to prepare for battle and to engage close, which was instantly obeyed, and after a short contest the enemy took to flight and several of the ducks were captured. Now the midshipman had read a little of British history, and particularly remembered that part where Richard the First in Palestine, and Henry the Fifth at Agincourt, put their prisoners to death. He immediately followed their example, and ordered the ducks to be slaughtered. Now the difference between those great men was this, that Richard and Henry buried their prisoners or got somebody else to do it, but the midshipman carried his off; and seeing in an orchard near the farmyard a number of fruit trees heavily laden, he thought it just that those who began the war should pay the expenses, which was no new thing in modern warfare, and gave orders to his party to fill their jackets with pears and apples, observing that it would ease the trees of their burthen and the boughs would be in less danger of breaking down. Now all this was very fair; and peace being restored, the midshipman addressed the farmer (who had come up with the reserve, but too late to assist the main body after their defeat): ‘I say, old Hodge, I wish you joy to see your nose and chin come together after being separated for so many years. But harkee, old chap, if I should come this way again, and your feather-bed sons of —— begin their capers, I’m damned if I don’t stop the grog of every mother’s son belonging to you.’ So saying, he returned with his dead prisoners, and the war was considered at an end. But the farmer, being bloody-minded, was of a different opinion, and breathing revenge, went and made his report to Captain Bourmaster. The captain, after coolly and deliberately weighing and investigating the transaction, came to the following conclusion: That Mr. S——s and his party, instead of going direct to their boat, did go this way and that way, and every way but the right way; and on a certain day, and in a certain lane, did kill, or did slay, or did murder or put to death several ducks, and did keep, and did hold, and did maintain the same, without any right law or title; and for such conduct Mr. S——s was sentenced to be dismissed from the Barfleur, and his party to have slops served out to them at the gangway.[[82]] The midshipman thought this extremely hard, and on leaving observed that had the case been tried before a jury he was sure they would have brought in a verdict of justifiable duckicide.

A curious bet took place between our chaplain and one of the officers. The wager was that the latter would bring a man who would eat eight penny rolls and drink a gallon of beer before the parson could walk a mile. Now the reverend gentleman was a great pedestrian, and could walk a mile in less than a quarter of an hour. The ground being chosen, one began to eat and the other to walk at the same moment, a gentleman being placed at each end with watches that corresponded to a second, when the parson to his utter amazement, after he had walked three-quarters of his mile, met the other, who had with ease finished his rolls and beer, and was unwilling that his reverence should have the trouble of walking the whole mile and therefore came to meet him. The reverend gentleman, like most clergymen, played well at whist, and once sitting at his favourite game, our signal was made, and the order was for the chaplain to attend a man that was to be hanged next morning. This broke up the game, when one of the officers observed: ‘Doctor, you have lost the odd trick; but never mind, the fellow you are going to attend has got nothing by honours.’

OFFICERS’ NAMES

[Robert] Roddam, Vice-Admiral, Port Admiral.

Dead [1808]. An admiral. Had his flag on board the old Conquistador, 60, in the American war, as port admiral at the Nore, at the time Mr. Fegan [post, p. [214]] was sent onboard.—[D.N.B.]

Hon. Samuel Barrington, Admiral of the blue.

Dead [1800]. A great officer. See his masterly manœuvre in the West Indies.—[D.N.B.]