The privateering enterprise, however, does not appear to have been very successful. After cruising about the Western Islands for several weeks without meeting with any adventure worth relating, the Dover at last fell in with three American merchant ships laden with French goods, but as their commanders contended that they were not lawful prizes, they were allowed to go. It transpired later on that these very vessels were afterwards taken by an English cruiser. Not long after, the Dover was captured by a French ship, and the crew, including John Rattenbury, were taken to Bordeaux and confined in the prison of that place. He does not appear to have been badly treated by his jailers, and he was allowed a certain amount of liberty, which enabled him to make the acquaintance of the master of an American vessel, then lying in Bordeaux harbour, Captain Prowse by name, who, taking a liking to the lad, allowed him to conceal himself on board his ship. It was, however, more than twelve months before the vessel was allowed to leave the port in consequence of an embargo on all foreign shipping, when, having taken in a cargo of wine, etc., it was cleared for New York, which port was reached after a passage of forty-five days. Here Rattenbury engaged himself as cook and cabin boy on board a ship sailing for Havre de Grâce. On arrival there he was anxious to get home again. He therefore transferred himself to an American merchantman belonging to Boston named the Grand Turk, bound for London, as he supposed, but much to his disappointment it proceeded to Copenhagen instead. He returned in her to Havre de Grâce, and thence after sundry adventures found himself in Guernsey, where, to his delight, he met his uncle, who took him back to Beer.
He was now sixteen years of age, and remained quietly at home for six months, part of which time he spent in fishing. After the roving life he had led, he found this occupation most uncongenial, and the smuggling trade, which was then being plied very briskly in the neighbourhood, offering great inducements, he determined to try his fortune at it. He accordingly joined a vessel engaged in this trade between Lyme and the Channel Islands, but after four months he engaged on another vessel, the Friends, a brig, commanded by Captain Jarvis. While in Tenby harbour she was captured by a French privateer. He thus narrates the incident:—
At eight o’clock the captain set the watch, and it was my turn to remain below; at twelve I went on deck, and continued till four, when I went below again, but was scarcely dropped asleep when I was aroused by hearing the captain exclaim, “Come on deck, my good fellow! here is a privateer, and we shall all be taken.” When I got up, I found the privateer close alongside of us. The captain hailed us in English, and asked us from what port we came and where we were bound. Our captain told the exact truth, and he then sent a boat with an officer in her, to take all hands on board his own vessel, which he did, except myself and a little boy, who had never been to sea before. He then sent his prize-master and four men on board our brig, with orders to take her into the nearest French port. When the privateer was gone, the prize-master ordered me to go aloft and loose the main-top-gallant sail. When I came down I perceived that he was steering very wildly, through ignorance of the coast, and I offered to take the helm, to which he consented, and directed me to steer south-east by south. He then went below and was engaged in carousing with his companions. They likewise sent me up a glass of grog occasionally, which animated my spirits, and I began to conceive a hope not only of escaping, but also of being revenged on the enemy. A fog, too, came on, which befriended the design I had in view. I therefore altered the course to east by north, expecting that we might fall in with some English vessel. As the day advanced, the fog gradually dispersed, and the sky getting clearer, we could perceive land. The prize-master and his companions asked me what land it was; I told them it was Alderney, which they believed, though at the same time we were just off Portland. We then hauled our wind more to the south until we cleared the Bill of the Island. Soon after we came in sight of land off St. Alban’s. The prize-master then again asked what land it was which we saw; I told him it was Cape la Hogue. My companions then became suspicious and angry, thinking I had deceived them, and they took a dog that had belonged to our captain and threw him overboard in a great rage, and knocked down his house. This I supposed to be done as a caution, and to intimate to me what would be my own fate if I had deceived them. We were now within a league of Swanage, and I persuaded them to go ashore to get a pilot. They then hoisted out a boat, into which I got with three of them, not without serious apprehension as to what would be the event; but hope animated, and my fortunate genius urged me on. We now came so near shore that the people hailed us, and told us to keep further west. My companions now began to swear, and said the people spoke English; this I denied, and urged them to hail again; but as they were rising to do so, I plunged overboard, and came up the other side of the boat. They then struck me with their oars, and snapped a pistol at me; but it missed fire. I still continued swimming, and every time they attempted to strike me, I made a dive and disappeared. The boat in which they were now took in water, and finding they were in a vain pursuit and endangering their own lives and safety, with little chance of being able to overtake me, they suddenly turned round and rowed away as fast as possible to regain the vessel. Having got rid of my foes, I put forth all my efforts to get to the shore, which I at last accomplished, though with great difficulty. In the meantime the men in the boat reached the brig, and spreading all their canvas, bore away for the French coast. Being afraid that they would get off with the vessel, I immediately sent two men, one to the signal-house at St. Alban’s and another to Swanage, to obtain all the assistance they could to bring her back.
By good fortune the Nancy, a cutter belonging to the Custom’s Service, happened to be lying in Swanage Bay, under the command of Captain Willis, who, giving chase, re-captured the brig and brought her into Cowes Roads. She was restored to her owners, on their paying salvage, but Rattenbury received no reward for his services, and two days after re-joining the brig, was impressed into the Royal Navy and put on board a cutter cruising off the Channel Islands. On her return to Spithead, Rattenbury escaped on board a fishing smack and was landed at Portland, whence he proceeded, on foot, to Beer, exchanging his cap with a young man whom he met on the way for a hat. Some days after a party from the cutter sent in search of him reached Lyme, but although they failed to catch Rattenbury they had arrested the young man with whom he had exchanged hats. He was released, however, when they discovered that he was not the man they were in search of.
During the next six months he occupied himself with fishing and smuggling, but his roving spirit once more took him to sea, and in March, 1800, we find him sailing for Newfoundland on board a brig belonging to Topsham, commanded by Captain Elson. He was now twenty-two years of age. On its way out the brig put into Waterford for provisions, but had not been at sea many days before it had to put back to Waterford for repairs, having sprung a leak. These were speedily effected owing to the kindness of Lord Rolle, who lent seventeen of his soldiers to assist in the work. In due course they reached St. John’s, Newfoundland, and after discharging a part of their cargo, proceeded to Placentia and afterwards to Pacee, where the ship was laid up for three months, while the crew were employed in catching and curing cod. When they had secured sufficient for a cargo, they set sail, in November, for Oporto, but they had not been at sea many days before they were chased and captured by a Spanish privateer, and a prize crew put on board. Rattenbury and an Irish lad were, however, allowed to remain on board, and the former, by making himself generally useful, gained the confidence of the Spanish prize-master, so that when the prize reached Vigo, Rattenbury, instead of being sent to a prison, was taken by the prize-master to his own house, and given such a good character that the owner of the privateer gave him his liberty and presented him with thirty dollars and a mule to take him to Vianna, where the British Consul gave him a pass to Oporto. Here he met his late captain and ship-mates, who had also been given their liberty, and after some days found a vessel bound for Guernsey, on which he was engaged as mate. After an exceedingly rough passage he reached Guernsey on the 25th March, 1801, where he found a packet about to sail for Weymouth, in which he took a passage, and thus reached Beer once more.
On the 17th April, 1801, he married a young woman to whom he had become engaged before setting out for his last voyage and settled down at Lyme. Failing to find any regular employment, he determined to try privateering again, and accordingly joined the Alert, a lugger belonging to Weymouth, commanded by Captain Diamond. In her he sailed, in May, for Alderney, where, having taken in a stock of wine and spirits, a course was steered for the Western Islands in the expectation of falling in with Spanish vessels, but the venture was not successful, and the Alert returned to Weymouth on the 28th December, 1801.
Rattenbury now remained at home for four years, and was employed in piloting and victualling ships. One day, while at Bridport, he was taken by the press-gang. He managed, however, to escape, and was pursued by the lieutenant and nine men of the Greyhound. During the chase his wife appeared on the scene, and seized the lieutenant round the neck. A scuffle ensued, in which the townspeople joined, and Rattenbury was able to get clear away. After this adventure he went to live at Beer, and made many trips in smuggling with varied success; but the lieutenant of the Greyhound was his most persistent enemy, and was determined to capture him. On one occasion, at Weymouth, hearing that the lieutenant was on his track, he took refuge in a public-house, the landlord of which was a friend of his. The lieutenant having received information as to his hiding-place proceeded to the spot, and at two o’clock in the morning roused up the house, threatening to fire at the landlord through the window and force an entrance if he did not immediately come down and open the door. On the alarm being given, Rattenbury concealed himself in the chimney, and remained there for about an hour, while the premises were being searched. On the departure of the lieutenant he came out of the chimney in a parlous condition, black with soot and much bruised, but, as he says, “triumphing over the sense of pain itself, in the exultation which he experienced at having once more escaped out of the clutches of this keen-eyed Lieutenant and indefatigable picaroon.”
Becoming sick of being constantly hunted, he determined to take to privateering again, and shipped accordingly on board the Unity, a cutter then fitting out at Weymouth, commanded by Captain Head. About February, 1805, they proceeded to sea, touching at Alderney to take in provisions and spirits, and steered a course for Madeira, Teneriffe, etc., in the hope of falling in with prizes; but they met with no success, and returned to Beer in August of the same year. In consequence of his continued want of success in privateering, he determined never again to engage in it, “a resolution,” he says, “which I have ever since kept, and of which I have never repented.”
Rattenbury now settled down ostensibly to a life of fishing, but actually of smuggling, in which he met with many adventures and every variety of fortune. He had not been long at this employment when he was captured by the Roebuck while off Christchurch, in Hampshire; but during the chase one of the man-of-war’s men, named Slaughter, had his arm blown off in the act of firing one of the guns. The captain was anxious to land the wounded man, and ordered a boat alongside to take him ashore, into which Rattenbury smuggled himself, and on reaching shore got clear off. That same evening he borrowed a boat and rescued his companions from the Roebuck, together with three kegs of gin, part of his contraband cargo which had been seized.
In the spring of 1806, he was captured by the Duke of York, cutter, in a fog, and was taken to Dartmouth. On nearing that port, he jumped overboard, swam ashore, and concealed himself in some bushes. Two women, however, who had seen him, inadvertently revealed his place of concealment, and he was re-taken. When he came on board again