Dick Cheveley: His Adventures and Misadventures

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Oh, yes, we do. Please go on!” cried out several voices from among us. “It is very interesting, we could sit here all day and listen to you.”

“If that is the case, I’ll go ahead to please you,” said old Riddle.

“In those days we didn’t let grass grow on our ship’s bottoms. Soon after we left San Fiorenzo we took Bastia, the seamen employed on shore being commanded by Captain Nelson, of the ‘Agamemnon.’ After we had besieged it for thirty-seven days the garrison capitulated, we having lost a good many officers and seamen killed and wounded.

“We next attacked Calvi, which we took with the loss of the gallant Captain Serocold and several seamen killed, and Captain Nelson and six seamen wounded. It was here Captain Nelson had his right eye put out. I saw a good deal of service while on board the ‘Juno.’ Whilst still on the station I was transferred with Andrew Barton and others, to the ‘Dido,’ twenty-eight-gun frigate, commanded by Captain Towry. These small craft used to be called ‘Jackass’ frigates, but the ‘Dido’ showed that she was not a ‘Jackass’ at all events. Soon after I joined her she and the ‘Lowestoff,’ thirty-two-gun frigate, were despatched by Admiral Hotham to reconnoitre the harbour of Toulon. We were on our way, when, one evening, we discovered standing towards us two large French frigates. We made the private signal, when, supposing that we were the leading frigates of the fleet, they both wore and stood away. We chased them all night, but in the morning, when they discovered that there were only two frigates, and both much smaller than themselves, they tacked and stood towards us. One of the Frenchmen was the ‘Minerve,’ of forty guns, and the other the ‘Artemise,’ of thirty-six guns. When the ‘Minerve’ was about a mile away from us, on the weather bow, and ahead of her consort, she wore, and then hauling up on the larboard tack, to windward, commenced firing at us. I was still, you will understand, only a powder-monkey. My business was to bring the powder up from the magazine in a tub, upon which I had to sit till it was wanted to load the guns. Still, I could see a good deal that was going forward through the ports; besides which I heard from the men what was taking place. My old messmate, Tom Noakes, had joined the ‘Dido.’ He was now seated on his tub next to me—the biggest powder-monkey I ever knew. Poor Tom was not at all happy. He said that we smaller fellows had only half the chance of being killed that he had, as a shot might pass over our heads which would take his off. I tried to console him by reminding him that there were a good many parts of the ship where no shots were likely to pass, and that he had less chance of being hit than the men who had to stand up to their guns all the time. We stood on till the ‘Minerve’ was on our weather beam, when we could see her squaring away her yards, and presently the breeze freshening, she bore down upon our little frigate with the evident intention of sinking us. So she might have done with the greatest ease, but having fired our broadside just as her flying jibboom was touching our mainyard, we bore up, and her bow struck our larboard quarter. So great was the shock, that for the moment many thought we were going down, but instead of that our frigate was thrown athwart the ‘Minerve’s’ hawse, her bowsprit becoming entangled in our mizen rigging. The Frenchmen immediately swarmed along their bowsprit, intending to board us. Our first lieutenant then shouted for ‘boarders to repel boarders,’ but as the French crew doubled ours, we should have found it a hard matter to do that. Fortunately the Frenchman’s bowsprit broke right off, carrying away our mizen-mast, and with it the greater number of our assailants, who failed to regain their own ship. With our mizen-mast of course went our colours, but that the Frenchmen might not suppose that we had given in, Harry Barling, one of our quarter-masters, getting hold of a Union Jack, nailed it to the stump of the mizen-mast. All this time, you must understand, we had been blazing away at each other as fast as we could bring our guns to bear. The ‘Minerve’ at last ranged ahead clear of us, but we continued firing, till the ‘Lowestoff,’ seeing how hard pressed we were, came up to our assistance, and tackled the Frenchman. In a few minutes, so actively did she work her guns, that she had knocked away the enemy’s foremast and remaining topmast. As the ‘Minerve’ could not now possibly escape, we threw out a signal to the ‘Lowestoff’ to chase the ‘Artemise,’ which instead of coming to the assistance of her consort was making off. She however had the heels of us, and we therefore, returning again, attacked the ‘Minerve,’ which, on her mizen-mast being shot away, hauled down her colours. We had our boatswain and five seamen killed, two officers and thirteen men wounded. The ‘Lowestoff’ had no one hurt, and so, although she certainly contributed to the capture of the prize, we gained the chief credit for the action, which, considering the difference in size between our frigate and the Frenchman, we certainly deserved. But in those days we didn’t count odds. We thought that we had only to see the enemy to thrash him. Even our best captains, however, sometimes made a mistake.

“I afterwards belonged to the ‘Terpsichore’ frigate, Captain Richard Bowen, which formed one of a squadron under Lord Nelson, who was then Sir Horatio, to attack Santa Cruz, in the Island of Teneriffe. The squadron consisted of three seventy-fours and one fifty-gun ship—which afterwards joined us—three frigates, and the ‘Fox’ cutter. It was some time before we could get up to the place. At last we managed to embark nearly seven hundred seamen and Marines in the boats of the squadron, nearly two hundred on board the ‘Fox’ and others, including a detachment of Royal Artillery, in some captured boats. Sir Horatio himself took the command. Shoving off from the ship some time after midnight, we pulled in for the town. The plan was to make a dash for the mole, and then to fight our way forward along it, we fully believing that the enemy would run as soon as we appeared. When the leading boats, under the command of Captains Freemantle and Bowen, had got within half gunshot of the mole head, the enemy took the alarm, and immediately opened fire on us from forty heavy guns. A hot fire it was, I assure you. The ‘Fox’ cutter, crowded with men, was sunk by the heavy shot which struck her, and nearly a hundred of those on board perished. I was in the ‘Terpsichore’s’ barge with my brave captain, when, just before she reached the mole, a shot struck her, and down she went, drowning seven of my shipmates; but the captain, with the rest of us, managed to get on shore. In spite of the hot fire with which we were met from the mole head, we succeeded in effecting a landing, and drove the enemy before us. Having spiked the guns which had done us so much mischief, we advanced along the mole, led by Captain Bowen, and our first lieutenant, Mr Thorpe. Here we encountered a tremendous fire of musketry from the Citadel and houses, so that the greater number of our party were either killed or wounded. Our brave leader, Captain Bowen, was among the first who fell, and soon afterwards Lieutenant Thorpe was killed. Nearly all the rest of the officers were killed or wounded. It being found at last that there was no chance of success, we were ordered to fall back.

“We had neither seen nor heard anything of Sir Horatio who would have been certain, had not something happened to him, to have been ahead. We now learned that just as he was landing and about to draw his sword, he had been struck by a shot on the elbow, and that he had been carried on board his ship by the few men who remained in the boat, the rest having landed. One of them, John Lovell, who I knew well, as soon as he saw the Admiral wounded, took the shirt from his own back, and tore it into strips, to bandage up his shattered arm. In the meanwhile we were waiting for the arrival of Captains Trowbridge and Waller with another squadron of boats. They however missed the mole head, but though some landed to the southward of it, in consequence of the heavy surf breaking on the shore, others put back. Captain Trowbridge, not finding the Admiral and the other officers he expected to meet there, sent a sergeant to summon the Citadel to surrender. The poor fellow did not return, having probably been shot. The scaling-ladders had also been lost in the surf. When morning broke we altogether mustered only 340 men. Every street in the place was defended by artillery, and we heard that a large force of 8000 men was advancing. The enterprise had therefore to be abandoned. Captain Trowbridge proposed to the Governor that we should re-embark with our arms, and he engaged that the squadron should not further molest any of the places in the Canary Islands. These terms were agreed to. We obtained also permission to purchase such provisions as we required. The affair was a disastrous one. We gained nothing, for besides 150 men killed or drowned, among whom were several brave officers, we had upwards of 100 wounded, and the Admiral lost his right arm.

“People call this sort of thing ‘Glory,’ but for my part I could not make out what advantage we expected to gain, or what business we had to go there at all.”

“I say, Mr Riddle, were you ever shipwrecked?” sang out one of the old sailor’s auditors, who was getting rather tired of the long yarn about his battles with which he had been indulging us.

“Bless you, young gentlemen, that I have, well-nigh a score of times I might say. Some time after this I belonged to the ‘Nautilus’ sloop of war, commanded by Captain Farmer. We belonged to the squadron of Admiral Lewis, then cruising in the Hellespont, when we were ordered to England with despatches of the utmost importance. We had a fresh breeze from the north-east as we threaded our way through the numerous islands of that sea. When at length we got off the island of Anti Milo, the Greek pilot we had with us declared he knew nothing of the coast to the westward. As, however, our captain was anxious to make a quick passage for the sake of the despatches, he determined to try and pilot her himself. Though the weather looked threatening, we sailed at sunset from Anti Milo, and shaped a course for Cerigotto. As the night grew on the wind increased to a heavy gale, torrents of rain fell, the thunder roared and rattled, the flashes of lightning were as vivid as I ever saw in my life. Sometimes it was almost brighter than day, then pitchy dark. The captain had just given orders to close reef the topsails, intending to bring the ship to till daylight, when a bright flash of lightning showed us the Island of Cerigotto right ahead, about the distance of a mile or so. Now, knowing his position, the captain resolved to run on, believing all danger past. The watch below was ordered to turn in. Those who remained on deck stowed themselves away under shelter of the hammock nettings.

“We of course kept a bright look-out, though it was not supposed that we had anything to fear. Except the officer of the watch, the rest had gone below—the captain and master probably to examine the chart—when the look-out on the forecastle shouted out ‘Breakers ahead!’ ‘Put the helm a lee!’ cried the officer of the watch. Almost before the order could be obeyed we felt a shock which lifted us off our feet, and sent those below out of their hammocks. We knew too well that the ship was ashore. In one instant the sea struck the ship, now lifting her up and then dashing her down upon the rocks with tremendous force. It seemed like a fearful dream. Almost in a moment the main-deck was burst in, and soon afterwards the lee bulwarks were carried away. The captain and officers did their best to maintain discipline. The first thing to be done was to lower the boats, but before they could be got into the water they were all either stove or washed away, and knocked to pieces on the rocks. Only a whale-boat of no great use was launched by the boatswain and nine other hands. As soon as they got clear of the rocks they lay on their oars, but it would have been madness in them to come back, as the boat already contained as many people as she could carry with safety. The captain accordingly ordered her to pull towards the Island of Pauri, in the hope that assistance might there be obtained for us. The ship continued to strike heavily. Every instant I expected that she would go to pieces, when one and all of us would have been lost. About twenty minutes after she struck the mainmast fell over the side towards a rock, which we could distinguish rising above the water, followed by the foremast and mizen-mast. Hoping that the rock would afford us more security than the ship herself, I, with others, made my way towards it, though at no little risk of being carried off by the seas. On reaching it we shouted to the rest to come on, as at any moment the ship might go to pieces. The whole crew followed our example. Many parts of the rock itself were scarcely above water. It seemed, as far as we could judge, to be about 400 yards long, and half as many wide. Here all hands collected, for as yet none had been washed away or lost, but many of the people had no clothing on, or only just their shirts, in which they had turned out of their hammocks. We had not a scrap of food, and we knew that it might be some hours before the whale-boat could bring us assistance. Scarcely had we reached the rock when we knew by the crashing, rending sounds, and the loud thundering noise, as the planks and timbers were dashed against it, that our stout little ship had gone to pieces. When day dawned we saw the foaming sea covered on all sides with fragments of the wreck, while several of our shipmates were discovered clinging to spars and planks, they having returned to the ship in the hopes of obtaining either food or clothing. It was known to the captain and officers that we were about twelve miles from the nearest island. There was but little chance of the boat getting back to us during the day. We secured a flag which had been washed up. This we hoisted to the end of a spar, and fixed it in the highest part of the rock. The day was bitterly cold, many of the men were almost perished for want of clothing. The officers made inquiries if any man had a flint. At last one was found. At the same time a small keg of powder which had been floating about was thrown up. The powder, though damp, served instead of tinder. We were able to get a fire alight. It gave us some occupation to collect fuel, though at the risk of being carried away by the seas, as they rolled up on the rock. We got also a quantity of canvas, and with this, and the help of some planks, we put up a tent, which afforded us some shelter. Though we had no food to cook, the fire warmed us, and enabled us to dry our clothes. We kept it burning all night in the hope that it would serve as a beacon. Another night passed away. In the morning we saw to our joy a boat pulling towards us. She was our own whale-boat, with the boatswain and four hands; but they brought no food nor water, as they found neither one nor the other on the Island of Pauri. The boatswain tried to persuade our captain to leave the rock, but he refused to desert us; so he ordered the boatswain to take ten men and make the best of his way to Cerigotto, and to return as soon as possible with assistance.