During the time we lay at anchor here we were in the habit of sending a boat to haul the seine on the Bayonne islands, and we were generally pretty successful. Amongst other fish, we frequently caught the torpedo[C], which gave me a practical lesson of its electric powers.
On the 6th of September a tremendous heavy gale came on from the southward and westward, in which several vessels belonging to our convoy drifted from their anchors, and went on shore. The Stag, frigate, of 32 guns, Captain Winthrop, was wrecked upon Point Subudo. However, we fortunately saved the crew; but the men of some transports and merchant vessels that went on shore in other parts of the bay fell into the hands of the Spaniards. Not being able to get the Stag off, she was burnt the same evening. The moment the wind and weather permitted we sailed with the expedition from Vigo Bay, and, having seen them safe off the coast, the admiral, according to orders, gave up his charge to Captain Sir Alexander Cochrane, and proceeded off the Western Islands in search of some Spanish galleons, said to be coming home in a Portuguese convoy.
We had with us four sail-of-the-line, and three frigates.
During our cruise we fell in thrice with a large French ship (privateer), but her legs were too nimble for us. One day, when we had all sail set, and were carrying every stitch of canvass we could crowd in chase, with a fine breeze, and nearing her fast, our unlucky genius, which had attended us all this cruise, from the sprite that said “Bo!” to old Pulteney at Ferrol, still haunted us up to the present time. We carried away our foretop-mast, and she again escaped.
The Renown being by far the best sailing ship of the squadron, the others stood no chance with the privateer, who very quietly hauled up her courses, and no doubt enjoyed the fun of looking at us hors de combat.
Two days after we fell in with two Portuguese convoys from the Brazils, bound to Lisbon. One we spoke; the others were boarded by the frigates to windward. The Portuguese captains of the men-of-war pledged their word of honour that no Spanish ships were under their protection. We, like geese, trusted to it, or rather, the frigates did. Will it be believed that in the above convoy were the five Spanish treasure-ships we were looking for, which arrived a few days after safe at Lisbon! And when they passed under the stern of the Cynthia, British sloop-of-war that was lying there, they hauled down their Portuguese colours, hoisted the Spanish, and fired a royal—and, no doubt, joyful—salute; and well they might. They had in the five vessels ten millions of specie, besides valuable cargoes.
We afterwards heard that this business caused a very angry communication from our Government to that of Portugal; but they, like true diplomatists, threw the whole blame from themselves on the weakest party, by denying any knowledge of the transaction, dismissed and imprisoned the captains of their men-of-war for a short time, who on being released went to Spain, and were there promoted to rank and honours.
After this finale of our unlucky cruise, we returned to Plymouth to refit, and get provisions and water. While there orders came to complete our stores of all kinds for foreign service. Captain Thomas Eyles left the ship, and Captain John Chambers White took the command—a strict, good, and excellent officer, who has filled a high situation at Woolwich Dockyard since the peace, and is now a Rear-Admiral of the White. We were all delighted with the idea of getting away from the heavy winter gales and monotonous cruising of the channel fleet.
A word upon channel cruising. I defy any person at the present day, except the old officers, to know the constant anxiety of the captains and officers of the channel fleet, sailing in two or three lines in heavy gales and thick weather. It required great attention in the lieutenants of the watch, a most strict and careful look-out to prevent accidents, and to have their wits always about them, ready to act at a minute’s warning. By the good discipline kept up, the look-out was perfect, and, to the very great credit of the officers of the watch, scarce an accident occurred during the long, tiresome, and harassing blockade of Brest, comprising a period of more than twenty years.