Marmaduke Merry: A Tale of Naval Adventures in Bygone Days

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Hot, I believe you,” he continued; “did you ever sit on a red-hot gridiron with your feet under the grate, your head in the fire, and your fists in boiling water? If you ever did, you’ll have some notion of what you’ll have to go through in the dog-days out in those parts.”

“Oh dear, oh dear,” exclaimed Spellman: “why we shall all be downright roasted.”

“I’ve a notion there’s some one being roasted now,” observed Mr Johnson, with a wink and a curl of his nose. “Roasted! Oh dear no: all we’ve to do, is to sit up to our necks in casks of water, and bob our heads under every now and then. To be sure, there is a fear that we may all turn into blackamoors, but that is nothing when a man gets accustomed to it. I don’t see why a dark skin should not be as good as a white one. Though they don’t all talk the same lingo, they’ve as much sense in their woolly heads as white men, that’s my opinion; and so, young gentlemen, when you get among them out there, just treat them as if they were of the same nature as yourselves, and you’ll find that they will behave well to you, and will be faithful and true.”

Mr Johnson’s remarks were interrupted by the appearance of Toby Bluff, who came to summon him on deck. Blue Peter was flying from aloft. In ten minutes afterwards the capstan-bars were manned, the merry pipe was heard, and, a sturdy gang of our crew tramping round, the anchor was hove up, the topsails were let fall, and away the Doris once more glided over the wide sea towards the far west. We had a rapid passage without meeting an enemy; indeed, scarcely a sail hove in sight. We made Saint Thomas’s, and stood across the Caribbean Sea towards Jamaica. Hot it was, but not so hot as Mr Johnson had led us to expect.

“Wait a bit,” he remarked. “It’s now winter; just let us see what the summer will be like.”

We were not destined to enter Port Royal. We had been making good progress towards it, when three sail were seen from the mast-head. As enemies of all nations just then swarmed in every direction, it was more likely that we should have to fight, than that we should meet with friends. The strangers approached. There were three ships not smaller than frigates certainly, perhaps larger. Still we knew that Captain Collyer would not dream of running away while there was a possibility of coming off victorious. If he did run, it would only be to induce the enemy to follow. The decks were cleared for action. Slowly we closed, when at length the strangers began to signalise, and we discovered that they formed the squadron of Captain Brisbane, who directed Captain Collyer to join him; except that, in case of parting company, we were ordered to rendezvous at Aruba, a small island about twenty leagues to the westward of Curaçoa, we remained in ignorance of what was about to be done, though that there was something in the wind we had little doubt. Various opinions were expressed; some thought that as the Dutch had chosen to follow Napoleon’s advice, and go to war with us, we should attack the island of Curaçoa itself, to show them that they had better have remained at peace; but the general idea was, that, as it was strongly fortified, we should not make such an attempt without large reinforcements. We did not know then what sort of stuff the commodore was made of.

On the evening of the 22nd of December, we anchored at the west end of Aruba, and we soon learned that Captain Brisbane had not only resolved to attack Curaçoa, but that he had a first-rate plan, all cut and dry, just suited to the tastes of British seamen. He had learned that the Dutch had a custom of finishing the old year by getting very tipsy; high and low, old and young, men and women, all imbibed as large an amount of schiedam as they could manage to stow away. Even ladies, young and fair, went about the streets offering glasses of the attractive liquor to their acquaintance and friends, and it would have been a positive insult to have refused it from their hands. The consequence was that the inhabitants, military and civil, had no inclination to get up in the morning, and even guards and look-out men were apt to go to sleep at their posts. Captain Brisbane formed his plans accordingly, and fixed daybreak on January the 1st as the moment for attack. We sailed again on the 24th, and had a long beat up against the trades towards the east end of Curaçoa. Our time, however, was busily employed in making scaling ladders, sharpening cutlasses, and manufacturing every bit of red cloth or stuff we could find into soldiers’ coats, as also in arranging other badges, by which each ship’s company could be easily distinguished. Each crew was thus divided into storming parties, under the lieutenants and senior mates, the captain acting as leader. The boatswains were ordered to place themselves at the heads of parties with ladders to scale the walls, and crowbars to break open the gates.

Mr Johnson was in high glee. “We shall see what we shall see, and I am very much mistaken if we don’t teach the Mynheers a lesson they will not easily forget,” he exclaimed, as he reviewed the articles under his directions.

We made the high land of Saint Barbary, at the east end of Curaçoa, before the year was an hour old, and we then had a fair wind, the regular south-east trade, to run for the harbour of Saint Ann’s, situated on the south-east of the island. Every one was in high spirits. We knew full well that the enterprise was a difficult and dangerous one, but we saw that it was planned with consummate prudence and forethought, and we felt perfect confidence that it would succeed. It was no child’s play we were about to perform, as, the gallant Arethusa leading, we stood for the harbour, with our boats in tow, ready at a moment’s notice to disembark the storming parties. We felt very proud, for we were going to show what bluejackets could do when left to themselves. I was stationed on the forecastle, and so was Grey, with our glasses constantly at our eyes. Before us appeared the narrow entrance of the harbour, only fifteen fathoms wide; indeed it nowhere exceeds a quarter of a mile in width. On our right appeared Fort Amsterdam, mounting no less than sixty guns in two tiers, capable, it seemed, of blowing us all out of the water, while there was a chain of forts on the opposite side, and at the bottom of the harbour the fortress, said to be impregnable, of Forte République enfilading the whole, and almost within grape-shot distance. Athwart the harbour was moored a Dutch thirty-six gun frigate and a twenty-gun corvette. The commodore had been ordered to diplomatise, and so he did in the most effectual way, for we all sailed in with a flag of truce flying, but with the guns run out and the men at their quarters. The Mynheers, however, were not inclined to listen to reason, but, waking up and seeing some strangers in their harbour, they hurried to their guns, and began firing away at us. Their aim was not very good, and few shots hit us. On we steadily sailed. Suddenly there was a cry of disappointment; the wind had shifted, and, coming down the harbour, very nearly drove us on shore. There seemed every prospect of our being compelled to abandon the enterprise. The men in their enthusiasm wished to tow the frigates up. Again it shifted. Our sails filled; the men cheered heartily. Once more up along the harbour, we lay till we brought our broadsides to bear on the forts and the two Dutch ships, the Arethusa’s jib-boom being right over the town. It was just dawn; a boat was despatched by the commodore for the shore; she bore a summons to the Dutch governor to surrender, promising to treat him and everybody with the utmost civility if he would; but Mynheer von Tronk was in no humour to listen to any of the more refined arguments Captain Brisbane had to offer; so the flag of truce was hauled down, and we had recourse to the argumentum ad hominem, or, in other words, we began blazing away from all the guns we could bring to bear. This fully roused up the sleepy Dutchmen, and we could see them, (Mr Johnson declared that many of them had their breeches in their hands), rushing into the boats to get on board their ships, or hurrying to the batteries, which had hitherto maintained a very ineffectual fire. We had given them just three broadsides, when the commodore at the head of a part of his crew put off from the Arethusa and pulled for the Dutch frigate. Up her sides we saw him and his gallant fellows climbing. We longed to be with them. The Dutch fought bravely, as they always do, but liquor had unnerved their arms. The conflict though short was sharp. Down came the Dutch flag, and up went that of England, but not till the Dutch captain and several of his crew had been killed and numbers wounded. The brave Captain Lydiard of the Anson captured the corvette in the same style. Still close to us frowned the forts, capable it seemed of sinking every one of our ships in a few minutes.

“We must take them, Bryan, without loss of time,” I heard our captain observe, as I was sent up with a message to him. Scarcely had he uttered the words when the signal to land was made. In a wonderfully few moments the boats were manned and crowded with small-arms men, and with ladders and crowbar bearers. I accompanied Mr Johnson with the ladder-bearers’ party. While the crowbar-men proceeded to the gates, we made the best of our way to the walls. Our chief hope was to succeed by a dash. The Dutchmen numbered ten to one of us, and they were no cowards, only slow. As yet they had not half-opened their eyes, or they might have counted our numbers, and discovered that our idlers, dressed in red coats, were not really soldiers. Mr Johnson was in his glory; the exploit was one exactly to suit his taste.