Transcriber's Note:

Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible, including inconsistent hyphenation and discrepancies in numbers of guns. Some errors in the table of contents and chapter summaries have been corrected. Some other changes have been made. They are listed at the end of the text.

PERSONAL NARRATIVE
OF EVENTS,

From 1799 to 1815,

WITH ANECDOTES.

BY THE LATE

VICE-ADM^L. W^M. STANHOPE LOVELL, R.N., K.H.

SECOND EDITION.

London:
WM. ALLEN & CO., 13, WATERLOO PLACE, W.

1879.

WITHERBY AND CO., PRINTERS,
74, CORNHILL; NEWMAN’S COURT, CORNHILL; AND 325A, HIGH HOLBORN, W.C.

To Rear-Admiral Sir Robert Barrie, C.B., K.C.H.

My dear Sir Robert,

In dedicating the following pages to you, under whose command I had the honour of serving in the Chesapeake, &c., I do it with the greatest respect, esteem, and admiration of your conduct.

I must ever consider you as one of those officers upon whom the country may safely rely in the hour of peril, and in whose hands it may entrust its honour in the day of battle. Like the celebrated Bayard of old, your career has obtained for you a character, “sans peur et sans reproche.”

Your faithful friend,

THE AUTHOR.

CONTENTS.

A Personal Narrative of Events.

CHAPTER I.

First trip to sea—Shipmates—Admiral Sir John Borlase Warren, Bart, K.B.

My father[A] and uncle both served their king and country in the American war of independence; the former was with Lord Cornwallis’s army when it surrendered at York to the American forces under the command of General Washington (he was at that time an officer in the 6th Regiment of Foot); and the latter in the 4th Dragoons. Both were magistrates for the county of Buckinghamshire, and served the office of high sheriff for the same.

When scarcely ten years old, I joined H.M. ship Renown (74) in Torbay, bearing the flag (blue at the mizen) of one of the most amiable men in the service, Sir John Borlase Warren, Bt, K.B., who had commanded a squadron of dashing frigates during all the early part of the war, and had taken and destroyed several French ships, and finished his glorious flying squad career by capturing most of those, which, under the command of Monsieur Bompart, had been sent with troops to assist the Irish during the rebellion of 1798, thereby saving the blood of thousands in Ireland, if not Ireland itself. A better or braver officer than the late Admiral Sir J. B. Warren never lived; he was that perfect model of a gentleman that every one might take as a pattern. I had the melancholy honour of following him to his grave, and wept over it tears of unfeigned sorrow.

But to commence my peregrinations. I still recollect the delight that a letter from my father gave me when at school, informing me I was to leave Latin and Greek, which classical knowledge was all blown overboard and forgotten the first gale of wind at sea; and after spending a short time at Little Missenden Abbey (which then belonged to my father) with my mother and two sisters,[B] I proceeded to Portsmouth, thence to find a passage to join the before-mentioned ship in Torbay.

I bore the parting with my kind, dear, excellent mother and sisters pretty well, because my father accompanied me to Portsmouth to see me safely launched into a new world; but when he took leave, I thought my heart would burst with grief. Time, however, reconciles us to everything, and the gaiety and thoughtlessness of youth, added to the cocked hat, dirk, spy-glass, etc., of a nautical fit out, assisted wonderfully to dry my tears, and, in a manner, reconciled me to a new scene of life.

Captain Pickmore, who at that period commanded the Royal William, at Spithead, very kindly sent me on board the Montague (74) with all my baggage, in the admiral’s tender, to join my ship to the westward. The first night on board was not the most pleasant; the noises unusual to a novice—sleeping in a hammock for the first time—its tarry smell—the wet cables for a bed carpet, and a somersault or two from my lubberly manner of getting into it, made me draw comparisons between sleeping on beds of down ashore, and my new abode, by no means very favourable to the latter.

The second day after quitting Portsmouth brought us to Torbay, where the channel fleet of thirty-six sail of the line, under Lord Bridport, was lying at anchor. I was soon transferred to my own ship, and introduced to my new messmates.

We lived in the gun-room on the lower deck, and in fine weather had daylight, which was better in many respects than the old midshipmen’s berths in the cockpit. Amongst the youngsters were some within a year or two as young as myself; nice boys, full of fun and mischief, who soon initiated me in the sea pranks of “sawing your bed-posts,”—cutting you down head and foot; “reefing your bed-clothes,”—making them up into hard balls which, if properly done, will take one unpractised in the art a good half-hour or more to undo. It used to be a great annoyance to come off deck after a first or middle watch (from eight at night to twelve, or from twelve to four in the morning), perhaps quite wet through, thinking, on being relieved, what a nice sleep you would have, to find, on going to your hammock, all your sheets and blankets made up into hard balls, and a good half-hour’s work in the dark to undo them, particularly when tired and sleepy. During your labour to effect this, you had the pleasure of hearing the mischievous fellows that had a hand in doing it, laughing in their hammocks, and offering their condolences by saying what a shame it was to play such tricks when you were absent on deck, keeping your watch, and recommending you to lick them all round, if you were able, or at all events to retaliate the first opportunity.

Blowing the grampus (sluicing you with water), and many other tricks used to be resorted to occasionally. Taking it all in good part, from the persuasion that it was the customary initiation to a sea life, my torments were few, for when the art of tormenting ceases to irritate, it loses the effect intended, and it generally ends by your shipmates saying, “Well, you are a good-natured fellow, and shall not be annoyed any more.”

I must do my brother mids the justice to say that a more kind-hearted set was not to be met with. We had few or no real quarrels the four years we sailed together, and, whenever spare time permitted, our evenings were spent in the amusements afforded by the old games of cribbage, loo, draughts and able wackets, which is a kind of forfeit played with cards, where each player is subject, for every mistake, to one or more blows with a knotted handkerchief on the palm of the hand. Many of them have paid the debt of nature, but some have risen to high rank and honours, most deservedly, in the service. We were all kept tight at work, and had at least four hours of sky-parlour (being sent to the main-topmast-head), when our watch was over, for every delinquency. I recollect one of my messmates was a lazy fellow, and shocking bad relief (the Hon. Henry Dawson); he always kept the unfortunate mid he had to relieve at least half-an-hour beyond his time on deck, until his patience was exhausted, forcing him to the unwelcome alternative of making a complaint to the lieutenant of the watch, who sent down to bring his relief on deck. It frequently happened that an old quarter-master, named Ned Cowen, was employed on this errand; he was a complete character, and as he had sailed round the world with the celebrated Captain Cook, and was a great favourite with us mids, we used to get him into our berth, give the old fellow a glass or two of grog, and make him relate his adventures.

Whenever old Ned presented himself at the Honble. H. Dawson’s hammock, he signified the purport of his visit with this summons—“Come, Mr. Dawson, past one bell (the half-hour after the watch has been called), turn out, show a leg, or I am ordered to bring you up on the quarter-deck, hammock and all; take my advice, bring a good, thick greatcoat with you; it is a wet night, and the masthead waiting for you—the old story, you know.” The delinquent’s tale of “overslept myself, sir,” was quite worn out—it occurred too often; therefore nothing was left but to mount up to the masthead, and there enjoy the refreshing breezes, fine showers, and exhilarating air of sky-parlour, to awaken him from his balmy slumbers.

The ship was in fine order and a perfect man-of-war, well manned and officered. The lieutenants were good seamen, knew and did their duty promptly, and managed the ship well.

Of the first lieutenants, two, after being promoted, found a watery grave—poor Hawes, in the Moucheron, brig of 16 guns, which foundered in a heavy gale with all his crew; and the gallant Burke shared a similar fate in the Seagull, of 18 guns.

CHAPTER II.

Channel cruising—Boat expeditions—Anecdote of a gallant mid—Ditto of two dandy Guardsmen—Expedition to Ferrol—Sir James Pulteney, Sir Edward Pellew and the donkey—The unlucky cruise.

Our first cruise was with the channel fleet off Brest, and to me, a boy of ten years old, it appeared a great feat, blocking up a superior French one in their own harbour, and offering them battle daily, without their daring to come out of port.

The winter’s cruise of 1799 and spring of 1800 was very stormy; nothing but heavy gales from S.W. to N.W. to N.E. and E., which blew us nearly at one time within sight of Ireland.

We had various commanders-in-chief, to each of whom the sailors had given a peculiar nick-name. The Honble. Admiral William Cornwallis was styled “Billy Blue,” from his flag (blue at the main), and hoisting, the moment we dropped anchor from the S.W. gales in Torbay, a blue Peter—a hint for every person to remain on board, ready to sail again the moment the wind came round sufficiently to the northward to enable the fleet to proceed down channel to resume the blockade of Brest; Lord Bridport—“Lord Bread-bags” (Jack’s pun upon his lordship’s name); Admiral Sir Allan Gardner—“Old Junk,” because he was a tough old fellow, and kept the ships so long at sea upon salt junk; and Lord St. Vincent—“Sour Crout,” from his stern deportment. The latter had no sooner joined than he detached us with the Defence (74), Fisgard, and Beaulieu frigates, under our orders, into the Bay of Biscay, to annoy the coast of France.

Our first attempt was at the Penmarks, where we succeeded in cutting out several French chasse-marées, and other craft, laden with brandy, wine, and provisions for the fleet in Brest harbour. The boats were commanded by the gallant Lieutenants Burke and John Thompson, of the Renown. This service was performed with little loss. Our next attempt was on some armed vessels in the river Quimper, coast of Brittany, but the boats did not succeed in finding the vessels: they, suspecting a visit, had moved higher up the river, whither it was not prudent to follow them. The crews were, therefore, landed, and having succeeded in destroying a fort at the entrance of the river, they returned on board without loss.

The third attempt was at Noirmoutier, near the mouth of the river Loire, in La Vendée—a tide harbour. Success at first crowned our exertions; the boats of the squadron, again under Lieutenants Burke, had already burnt three vessels, mounting from 12, 18, to 24 guns, with some small craft, and were thinking of returning, when the ebbing of the tide, which the gallant assailants, carried away by their ardour, had failed to perceive, left all the boats high and dry, exposed to the fire of the French batteries. However, Lieutenants Burke and Thompson, with a part of the men, dragged a large fishing boat and our barge through the mud, and got safe back to the ships, leaving the remainder of the boats, with 76 of our best men and some officers prisoners, besides a few killed and wounded. A poor messmate of mine, a midshipman, named Jago, who was afterwards killed in the Mediterranean on another cutting-out affair, in remembrance of this transaction, called out on that occasion to some of his men who seemed disposed to hang back, “Come, my lads, stick by me now, as you stuck by me in the mud at Noirmoutier.”

In consequence of this untoward affair, we sailed for Portsmouth to refit. Previous to sailing, the ship was paid. I was stationed on the starboard gangway to keep off the boats, but leaning too far over the side, fell overboard, and got a good ducking, but fortunately escaped breaking my head against a boat that was alongside by falling between her and the ship. Luckily the people in the boat picked me up immediately, for at that time I could not swim.

After the ship had refitted, and obtained a draft of seamen and marines, and new boats in lieu of those we had lost on the coast of France, we joined the fleet again off Brest, under the command of Earl St. Vincent.

In August our admiral was detached with a strong squadron to take the naval command of the expedition, under General Sir James Pulteney, against Ferrol.

I recollect, on this expedition, two dandy young guardsmen came on board for a passage, and, being too late for dinner in the ward-room, a nice beefsteak and bottle of port wine was given them at a side table. After contemplating it a little while, with a supercilious turn of the mouth and nose, one of them made the sage remark, that “he thought they might be able to rough it pretty well with such fare every day in a campaign; but, really, common port wine, beefsteaks, and potatoes, was not fit food for guardsmen.” I’ll answer for it long before their regiment returned from Egypt they were very glad to get much worse fare, and if either of them lived to serve with the noble Wellington in the Peninsula, their pride of stomach must have had many a fall.

The results of the unfortunate expedition to Ferrol are too well known to need further record; the gallant army, to a man, regretted that their evil genius placed them under the command of such a general, and we, of the navy, lamented our ill-luck that prevented us from taking the beautiful Spanish fleet that lay at anchor in the harbour.

It was reported—and, I believe, with truth—that at the very time our troops were being re-embarked, the Spanish governor had even sent out an officer with the keys of the fortress in his hands, and an offer of terms to surrender; but he, seeing how matters stood, returned back to his general, rejoicing, and informed him that the British army was in full retreat, and part were already on board. The Spaniards had laid a strong boom across the harbour, flanked by two very powerful batteries—one on each side of the entrance.

Sir James Pulteney promised to take the one on the left, or larboard hand, while the boats, filled with sailors and marines, were to storm the other at the same time.

Seven sail of the line were prepared for action, with springs on their cables, and a spare one out of the gun-room stern port, bent to the sheet anchor, ready for bringing up head and stern; in short, everything was in a forward state for the attack, and the London (98 guns) was to break the boom, and the rest of the ships to follow in line of battle.

All hearts beat with joyful expectation, when, to our utmost surprise and indignation, a signal was made from the shore that the commander-in-chief of the land forces had given up the idea of attack, and boats were to be sent immediately to embark the troops.

The gallant Sir Edward Pellew, who commanded the Impétueux (74), was ready to burst with rage when he found the object of the expedition given up, at a time when it was almost within our grasp, and without making one serious effort to obtain it. It was reported in the squadron that he embarked an ass, and used to go up to it, and take off his hat, and say, “How do you do, Sir James? I hope nothing troubled you in your sleep last night in the way of unpleasant dreams, or that the nightmare did not disturb your rest.”

After this sad affair we sailed for Vigo Bay, where our appearance with so large a force put the inhabitants in bodily fear. When we were standing into the bay a large French ship (privateer) was observed to haul under the citadel. At night the boats of the squadron, commanded by the daring Lieutenant Burke, were sent to bring her out, which they most gallantly accomplished, after a severe and desperate struggle. She was called La Guêpe, of 18 long nine-pounders, with 244 men, sails bent, and perfectly ready for sea, and was going to look after our homeward-bound West Indiamen, and intended to have sailed the evening of the day of our arrival.

She had her boarding nettings up, and everything ready for a stout resistance. On the approach of the boats the privateer and the forts opened a heavy fire of round and grape, but they, nothing daunted, gave three hearty cheers, dashed on, and, after a most gallant defence, she was boarded and brought out. Lieutenant Burke was severely wounded by a pike through both thighs, and the French captain, who most heroically fought his ship to the last moment, died of his wounds an hour after she was taken. He asked (poor fellow!) if he had done all he could to defend his ship; being answered in the affirmative, and justly complimented on his gallant conduct, he gave a faint smile, and expired.

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.

CHAPTER III.

Cruise off Cadiz—Proceed up the Mediterranean to Egypt after a French squadron under Rear-Admiral Ganteaume, 1801.

In November, 1800, we sailed for Gibraltar. I was much pleased to see the celebrated rock, so well defended by the gallant Elliot in 1782, and to read, on the spot, Colonel Drinkwater’s most amusing history of that famous siege.

As late as the year 1801, the greater part of the garrison was still covered with shot and broken shells, thrown by the Spaniards at that period. They have since been collected, and sold to be melted down for various purposes, some probably to be again converted into missiles of destruction.

We cruised off Cadiz in company with the Dragon, Hector, and Gibraltar, of 74 guns each, until the spring of 1801, detaining the Danish and Swedish vessels, when a French squadron of eight sail of the line (some frigates, and a store ship), having made their escape from Brest, at a time the channel fleet was blown off, passed us in the night, and pushed up the Mediterranean for Toulon, to embark troops for Egypt, to strengthen their force there.

The Mercury (28), Captain Rogers, and the Incendiary (fire-ship), joined us in the morning, and informed us they had been chased by them. Although we had only four sail of the line, no time was lost in proceeding after them; first touching at Gibraltar for provisions, then running over to Marjarine Bay, on the coast of Barbary, for water, and from thence to Port Mahon, to see if chance would send us a reinforcement. There we found the Alexander (74), Captain Sir Alexander Ball, the Généreux (80), not half-manned, and the Harlaem (64), en flute; however, they made a show of strength, and to sea we went in search of the French squadron, under Rear-Admiral Ganteaume, and steered for Toulon. Ill fortune attended us; for in a heavy gale, the Généreux rolled away all her top-masts, and sprung a leak, which caused us to put back to Minorca, with our crippled ships, from which place the above-named ship was never again in a state to accompany us.

The moment the rest of the squadron was ready for sea, our persevering admiral again sailed, and although with one ship less, he ventured to reconnoitre Toulon, where we found the French had also put back damaged, and were apparently employed in refitting. We, therefore, shaped our course for Minorca. On our way thither, to complete our water and provisions, we chased a Spanish convoy into Cadeque, a small port near the entrance of the Bay of Rosas; but the admiral did not think, under existing circumstances, it was worth while risking the loss of lives to attack them, having the prospect of an action with a superior French force in view; we, therefore, returned to Port Mahon to get ready to proceed after the enemy’s fleet in Toulon.

During our stay, we heard that we were to be joined at Malta by His Majesty’s ship Athénienne (64), which was not even coppered, and had only half her complement of men. Having put the ships into as good a state as circumstances would admit, we proceeded to Malta, and there picked up the 64 gun-ship, which completed our ill-conditioned squadron, viz., five good ships of the line, one 64, en flute, and another 64, half-manned, and with no copper on her bottom.

With these ships we went to look for Admiral Ganteaume; and off the island of Maretimo, we fell in with the Salamine brig, of 16 guns, which gave us information that the day before she had been chased by the French squadron, and that by shaping our course to south-east, we should probably see them next morning. What joy ran through the different ships! but, alas! owing to the ill-sailing of our squadron, all our hopes were frustrated. We did, indeed, get sight of them the following day at dawn, far to windward, and by a shift of wind, shortly after brought them right a-head, so that although there were no light airs, by sun-set we could see more than halfway down their courses; yet most of our ships, with the exception of the Hector and Dragon, were very far astern, some hull down. Still, however, we hoped with three good ships of the line to bring their rear to action in the night, and so retard them, that the next day our bad sailing ships might pick up any birds we had winged, while we stood on after the others; but bad fortune attended us, our only frigate, the old Mercury, of 28 guns, sailed so heavily as to be unable to keep them in view. At ten at night, foggy, hazy weather came on, we lost sight of our game, and the next morning the horizon was so obscured that the enemy was no longer to be seen.

What was to be done? We knew Alexandria, or some part of the coast of Egypt, was their destination, and thither we steered. Ganteaume guessed we should follow him thither, and, like a cunning old fox, taking advantage of the hazy night, soon after dark hauled his wind on the starboard tack, and doubled round us; therefore, at daylight, in consequence of the very thick state of the atmosphere preventing our seeing him, we preceded him to the coast of Egypt, while he shaped his course for Cape Derne Head, and tried to land his troops a little to the westward of Alexandria; but the few that attempted it were soon murdered by the Arabs, and he, not feeling himself quite at his ease for fear of our again meeting him, returned back to Toulon to refit. After taking in water and provisions, he once more proceeded to the coast of Egypt, and although he did not land his men, picked up His Majesty’s ship Swiftsure (74), Captain Ben. Hallowell, who was obliged to surrender, after a gallant defence, and took his prize safe into the harbour of Toulon.

In the meantime we kept on our course for Alexandria, and at the end of March arrived off there, and joined the fleet of Lord Keith. Here a sad and heavy affliction awaited our amiable admiral. The first news was, that our gallant army had landed on the 8th, and that his brave, handsome, and only son, who belonged to the Coldstream Guards, had been killed on landing. He bore his loss with the resignation of a Christian, but with the feelings of a father.

Having remained off Alexandria for a few weeks, Lord Keith detached us in search of our old friend Ganteaume, but first of all taking away one of our best ships, the Hector (74), and giving us in lieu the Stately (64), en flute, a Turkish 64, and a corvette. During our stay the captain pacha, and other Turkish admirals, came on board on a visit of condolence to our admiral. I recollect he was a very fine-looking man, with a long black beard, and brought his pipe and coffee-cup bearers with him. The mouth of the pipe was set with diamonds, and so were his coffee-cups. Old Tombrook, the captain of the Turkish 64, that sailed with us, was introduced to the admiral, and the captain pacha said that if he did not behave well, Sir John had only to write a note to him, and his head should be taken off immediately on his return to the Turkish fleet; or if the admiral preferred it, he would send an executioner on purpose to decapitate Captain Tombrook, and lay his head at Sir John B. Warren’s feet.

We left Alexandria the beginning of May, and sailed for Coron, in the Morea, to procure wood, water, and fresh provisions, of which we stood very much in need, the scurvy having begun to make its appearance from our long continuance at sea upon bad salt and other food of the worst quality. The bread was full of maggots and weevils, the flour musty, and swarming with insects, the water so putrid, thick and stinking, that often have I held my nose with my hand while I drank it strained through my pocket handkerchief; and we were so short of this necessary article, that our consumption was limited to two pints a day for all purposes. Provisions, at the time I am speaking of, were not like those supplied now-a-days from Her Majesty’s stores; everything then was done by an infamous job contract; government paid through thick and thin for everything, and we poor devils had to suffer in consequence of the neglect of those persons under government winking at the nefarious jobs of contractors, and no doubt they had weighty reasons for so doing.

I recollect, in a mid’s berth, we used to ask what such-and-such a county was famous for. Suffolk, in our black book, was put down as famous for supplying the navy with rotten and bad cheese. Burgoo was served out with treacle for breakfast, instead of nice wholesome cocoa and sugar; and will it be believed, that until the peace of 1802, French merchants had a contract for supplying the British Navy with French brandy, while our West Indian merchants knew not what to do with their rum and cocoa! At last John Bull awoke from his dream, and it struck him that soldiers and sailors liked rum just as well as brandy, and that by giving them cocoa for breakfast it would not only assist the West Indian merchants, but give general satisfaction throughout the fleet.

I take this opportunity of mentioning the night-blindness which seized several of our ship’s company after dark. It came on immediately it began to grow dusk. First we thought it was sham, in order to skulk from their watches, but we soon found it was not the case. The men were first attacked off Egypt, and it was supposed it was occasioned by the heavy dews. I have since been informed that it frequently occurs in tropical climates.

We remained at Coron ten days, getting supplies; but gained no intelligence of the French squadron, though the Turkish corvette had been despatched for that purpose, to make enquiries at the different out-ports. On her return, we sailed for Malta, where the Christian slaves, on board the two Turkish men-of-war, were liberated on our arrival, to the great joy of the Maltese. Having refitted, we proceeded to Port Mahon, and from thence to cruise off Toulon. On our passage, we had most severe thunder and lightning, which struck the Dragon and ourselves, indeed, all the squadron more or less; the former’s main-mast was injured, and our mizen-top-gallant-mast was dashed to atoms, the top-mast shaken into laths, the mizen-mast set on fire, and the few tin and iron pots and pans, we mids had in the gun-room, were every one perforated in the same manner, as if a musket-ball had been fired through them. The lightning then providentially took a direction out of one of the gun-room ports, and escaped; several men on board both ships were much scorched, and one man in the Dragon killed. If the Renown had been one of the old 74’s, whose mizen-mast stepped in the after magazine, she must have been blown up; but, fortunately, her’s stepped in the gun-room. We stood on for the Gulf of Lyons, and looked into Toulon, and there saw the French ships lying with their prize, the Swiftsure, some of the ships stripped, one with her main-mast out, and no chance of their putting to sea again for some time. We, therefore, proceeded to the Island of Elba, and on our way fell in with two French frigates, and chased them into Leghorn; the Stately (64), en flute, got pretty near them, but they slipped through her fingers. One named the Success, of 32 guns, formerly British, captured by the French squadron, under Rear-Admiral Ganteaume, on his passage from Brest to Toulon, a few months before, was afterwards taken by the Minerve (36), Captain Cockburn, and Phœnix (32), Captain Halstead, and they drove the Bravoure (44) on shore near Leghorn, and destroyed her. We then went to endeavour to relieve the garrison of Porto Ferajo, which was closely besieged by the French, and a sortie was agreed upon by the garrison. The intention was to turn the enemy’s works, and destroy his batteries, and a party of sailors and marines were landed to assist at the attack; but the troops from Porto Ferajo, being all foreigners, in our pay, composed of Swiss and Germans, did not know us nor we them. All parties met in the dark, and hearing these people talk French, our men fired upon them, and they upon us. The sortie never reached its destination—Johnny Crapaud was not to be caught napping—our expedition partly failed in its object; Captain Long, of His Majesty’s brig Vincego, was killed. “Sauve qui peut” was the order of the day, and a pell-mell retreat to the boats became necessary. Followed by the French, several were killed, wounded, and taken prisoners, and some shot in the water, trying to swim off to the boats. A few days after, the following ludicrous song appeared on board, to the tune of “Vinegar Hill”:—

“Pray were you at Elba races?

Were you there in the morning?

Some were picking of grapes,[D]

Some were drinking of wine,

And some were running away,

And singing out, ‘Oh! rare Elba races.’”

We then returned to Minorca to get more troops; but shortly after our arrival, a French man-of-war brig, from Toulon, came into the roads, with despatches, to inform us the preliminary treaty of peace had been signed at Amiens.

While we remained at Minorca, we lost our captain of marines (Burns), a very worthy man. His death was singular. A vessel, a few weeks after the arrival of the French brig, came from England, confirming the news from France, with an order to cease hostilities; also bringing letters and papers. It was one in the morning when the news came. Poor Burns got up quite well, and sat laughing and talking, and hearing the news from old England, and saying what he should do when he got upon half-pay; called for a glass of cold water, which he drank off, and laid down in his cot again; the cramp seized him in his stomach, and in five minutes he was a corpse. He was much beloved in the ship, full of humour, and a kind-hearted pleasant man. He was buried with military honours at Port Mahon, all the officers of the ship, and many of the squadron, attending his funeral.

CHAPTER IV.

From the Peace of Amiens (1802) until the commencement of the second Gallic War—Gambling.

I fortunately remained in the Mediterranean during the whole of the short peace, which helped on my mid’s time, in the Renown (74), with Captain John C. White[E], a smart officer. Our worthy and amiable admiral struck his flag at Minorca, and returned to England, from whence he was shortly sent, at the request of the Emperor of Russia, to St. Petersburgh, as ambassador, and gave universal satisfaction. Indeed, he was fully capable of wielding the sword, using the pen, or managing the weighty matters of a court.

From Minorca we sailed for Malta—at which place we remained nine months, without ever going out of it.

The harbour was crowded with men-of-war, and the garrison with troops, returned from Egypt. I heard of a great deal of gambling taking place—some duels in consequence, and suicides. Of all vices, gambling is the worst, for you not only risk your own ruin, but that of your family also; and a man of honour and principle stands no chance with black-legs. A person possessed of affluence ought not to gamble, because he cannot want another’s money, and a poor man that does so, and plays for a large amount, must be a swindler, knowing that if he loses he has not the means to pay; he generally, therefore, gives leg bail for the amount.

Our time passed rather heavily during this long sojourn in one place. We used, however, to go occasionally in a boat to St. Paul’s Bay, and have a ride to Florean to see the catacombs, and to Cività Vecchia to view the handsome church of St. Paul.

A malignant fever broke out in several of the ships, owing, probably, to the great heat of the weather, when many died: it was something like the yellow fever, and came on in August and September.

Shortly after this we embarked two companies of artillery, under a Captain McDonald, and Lieutenants Dougal, Campbell, and Carmichael, with orders to proceed to Gibraltar, and thence home. Owing to heavy westerly winds, we had a six weeks’ passage, and found on our arrival that a most serious disturbance had taken place amongst the troops in the garrison, which ended in one of the regiments being packed off to the West Indies. Various causes were assigned for the mutiny, and amongst others, a too sudden change from a very relaxed state of discipline to the opposite extreme.

After remaining here a few days, though we had expected to sail the moment the wind came to the eastward for England, the arrival of despatches from thence stopped our proceeding.

Napoleon’s plans, by the wisdom and foresight of the Ministry, were seen through, and orders arrived for the detention of all the ships of the line (at all serviceable) then in the Mediterranean, instead of sending them to England. This created a partial murmur amongst the different crews; but the firmness and strict discipline of our captain and officers kept our ship’s company perfectly quiet. The crew of the Gibraltar, however, broke out, and two of the unfortunate men were hanged afterwards in Orestana Bay, Sardinia.

We sailed from the Rock in September, 1802, for Orestana Bay, in company with the Dragon (74) and Gibraltar (80), and there joined Rear-Admiral Sir R. Bickerton’s squadron. On our way an accident occurred, which very nearly sent us back to the Rock a cripple. In the act of wearing, we ran on board of the old Gibraltar. Fortunately, it was fine weather, as we took her nearly amidships, carried away part of our cutwater and jib-boom, but did her no damage. It was our fault. The signal was made to wear together. We were to windward. The Renown answered her helm in a moment. Not so the old Gibraltar, she took longer time, and before she could get out of our way we were on board of her.

Our time (nearly nine weeks) passed dull enough at this anchorage. Occasionally we went shooting and fishing. Fish, however, were scarce—although, had we taken the right method, more perhaps might have been caught. Plenty of those beautiful large mussels, whose shells are nearly two feet long, were to be found quite at the head of the bay in the shallows; also mullet and rock fish; and on the different shores various kinds of plover, and other wild fowl. But small shot was so scarce in the squadron, that the feathered tribe were not so much diminished as they might have been. I recollect one of the lieutenants, named Jane (now a captain), used to employ me to roll slugs between pieces of wood to convert them into a kind of round-shot, for which service he generally took me with him on his shooting excursions. The inhabitants of these parts are a wild race of beings, and mostly clothed in black sheep skins, the wool outside.

We left Sardinia in November, and proceeded to Malta for the winter, and on the 18th of May, 1803, put to sea with the squadron, under Sir R. Bickerton, Bart., to cruise off Naples, matters having assumed an hostile appearance at home.

After sailing through the Faro of Messina, when passing near the island of Stromboli, its volcano broke out in a most beautiful eruption, which lasted for several months. We had the good fortune to be becalmed pretty near it for a whole night, which gave us a magnificent illumination, and at intervals a cloud of fireworks, thrown from its crater into the air, sent forth a brilliant light. Having been off deck in my watch, and my quarter and station bills not being correct and kept in good order, I had four hours of sky-parlour on the main-royal-cross-trees, which enabled me to have a fine view of the burning mountain, and of its river of fire, which appeared to run from its crater into the sea.

CHAPTER V.

From the commencement of second Gallic War until the Battle of Trafalgar, 1805; with Anecdotes.

Whilst off Naples official notice reached us of the declaration of war against France, and we proceeded immediately off Toulon, where, in the course of a short time, Lord Nelson arrived in a frigate, and took the command of the fleet in the Mediterranean. His lordship’s flagship (the Victory) joined us in a few weeks, having on her passage out captured a French frigate, and some merchant vessels. We continued to cruise in the Gulf of Lyons from June, 1803, until the 24th of July, 1804, without ever going into any port to refit. It is true that occasionally the whole fleet ran from the heavy gales of the Gulf of Lyons, and took shelter in various outlandish places in Sardinia, where we could get wood and water, such as at Agincourt Sound—amongst the Magdalen islands—in the Straits of Bonifacio (a most beautiful anchorage, sheltered from all winds); but the shores and country around are the picture of desolation—no town—no trees of any size—rocks upon rocks, and the stunted bushes of the wild myrtle and arbutus merely sufficient for the purposes of fuel. There was a small village seven or eight miles off, at one of the Magdalen islands, where some few got their linen washed, but most of us in the fleet were put to our shifts to get that necessary comfort (clean linen) accomplished.

These long cruises used to put our wits sadly to the test for an appearance of a bit of white linen above our black cravats, particularly when we had to answer the signal for a midshipman on board the flagship.

Soap was almost—indeed, I might say, quite—as scarce an article as clean shirts and stockings. It was a common thing in those days of real hard service to turn shirts and stockings inside out, and make them do a little more duty. Sometimes we used to search the clothes-bag to see “if one good turn deserved another.” These expedients, added to reefed stockings, made us appear sufficiently dandified to go and answer the signal. Borrowing those articles that had been washed on shore—if such a thing was left amongst one of us—was quite out of the question, for we knew the day of repayment was very far off.

The island of Sardinia affords several good anchorages for fleets and squadrons in particular winds: Orestana Bay, St. Peter, St. Antonio, Cagliari, from the south-west to the south side, and Terra Nova Bay on the north-east; besides many others for single or few ships. Porto Conti, for instance, on the north-west part of the island, is a very safe one. Our noble and gallant chief used to manage to get us fresh beef twice a week—that is to say, so many live bullocks were embarked on board each ship, and we killed them as we wanted them—by which means, with the assistance of oranges that were procured occasionally, few cases of scurvy occurred in the fleet, notwithstanding our long stay at sea. But as for articles of luxury—tea, potatoes, soap, and other sea stores for our messes—we had none.

The inhabitants of Sardinia were as wild as their country; the mountaineers and lowlanders generally were engaged in a kind of petty war with each other. Both parties always went armed, and murders frequently took place. At one of the anchorages in the straits, another mid and myself were attending a watering party—one of these fellows rode down with a bag of cheese, made of goat’s or sheep’s milk, for sale; he was armed with a long gun and pistols, and we had no firearms with us. Some dispute in the bargaining, for the want of understanding each other’s language, arose; the Sard, very coolly mounted his horse, and taking up his cheeses, rode off a short distance, and fired at us; the ball passed through the sleeve of the mate’s coat, and near my head; he then galloped off, reloaded his gun, rode up, and gave us another shot, but luckily without injury.

A midshipman of the Victory was killed by these fellows a short time afterwards in consequence of some dispute about the hiring of a horse that had been brought down by these wild folks to the beach. The poor mid, anxious for a ride, gave the rascal a dollar, mounted the horse, and rode backwards and forwards for an hour on or near the beach. The Sardinian wanted his horse, the other thought he had not had his dollar’s worth of riding, and a warm dispute ensuing, the Sard most deliberately shot at him with his gun, and broke his arm, so close up that it was necessary to take it out of the socket. He bore the operation well, poor fellow, but a fever afterwards came on, which carried him off. Lord Nelson tried to get satisfaction, but in a wild country like this, without law or justice, it was found impossible. The offender made his escape to the mountains, and nothing further was heard of him.

Shooting parties occasionally took place, but, not having dogs, the sportsmen were seldom rewarded. Although some kinds of game were numerous, and flocks of blue pigeons, to the amount of thousands together, were seen, few were brought on board, for no person dared follow them far for fear of the wind changing, when we knew the fleet would sail immediately to regain our station. Previous to the Spanish war we were sent by his lordship, in the Renown, to the Bay of Rosas, in Catalonia, to procure bullocks and oranges for the fleet, where we remained long enough to have our clothes washed—a luxury we stood much in need of.

Our long cruise of near fourteen months off Toulon, amidst nothing but gales of wind, and heavy storms of most terrific thunder and lightning, met with no reward in the shape of prize-money.

One man-of-war schooner, of 12 guns, called the Renard, and half-a-dozen small French vessels, were the only captures made by the fleet during the above period; these, with the exception of the schooner, not being worth sending into port, were destroyed. A lieutenant of the Renown, and myself, went to Malta in the Renard, and shortly after rejoined our ship off Toulon, in the Narcissus frigate.

One of the marine officers had a monkey on board, who used to amuse us with his gambols; but was rather fond of biting, for which he received occasionally a beating from us youngsters. This brought on a coolness between his master and us, and led at last to open war.

A cabal was formed to get Jacko a licking from his own master, by letting him loose from his chain in the marine officer’s cabin, that he might do some mischief; and the time chosen was when his best clothes were put out ready for him to dine with the captain.

We knew F. was invited that day, because we had seen the captain’s steward ask him, and his own servant go into the marine officer’s berth (he had one in the gun-room, on the lower-deck, where we messed), and lay out his best coat, epaulet, white trousers, etc.; and after making all other preparations necessary for the toilet, leave the cabin, lock the door, put the key in his pocket, and go away.

Now was the time for action. A mid of the name of O., the leader of all mischief, undertook to get into the cabin through the lower-deck port, by going on deck, then into the mizen chains, and from thence by a rope’s end made fast under his arms. We let him down through the port on the lower-deck into the cabin, and he untied the monkey. This being done, we returned into the gun-room, and peeped through the key-hole and cracks to see Jacko’s manœuvres.

After jumping about and chattering to himself for some little time, he commenced operations. Unfortunately for his owner, he found a bottle of ink, which he let fall, and it broke in pieces, splashing the ink on the deck. The monkey was now in his glory; he seized upon the new red coat and epaulet, and began mopping up the wet, then chattering to himself, jumping about and appearing to feel quite delighted with his performance, particularly when he saw the marks of his hands and feet, stained with black, upon the red uniform. Not contented with his exploits on the coat, he lugged down the pair of smart inexpressibles, that looked so temptingly white, hanging over the chair, and finished the housemaid’s work by wiping up the remainder of the ink with them. This feat having been done, we thought we had seen enough, and went most innocently to give information to the lieutenant of Marines, and his servant, that Jacko was loose in the cabin, and, we were afraid, was after some mischief, for we heard something break, and by peeping through the key-hole, saw he had his master’s coat on the deck, and dragging it about.

Down ran the poor marine officer, calling his servant to bring the key. The moment the door was opened, the first glance showed the havoc committed on the dinner dress. Jacko, perceiving his frolic was over, retreated into his cage, from whence he was dragged to get a good beating. The poor servant was scolded because the monkey had got loose, who very truly said it was tied up safe when he left the cabin. The officer swore, stamped, and raved like a madman. His dress was so completely messed for the day, he could not dine with the captain; and we innocent young rascals stood looking very demure, and condoling with him on his misfortune, all the time laughing in our sleeves at the trick we had played. We had paid off the master and monkey, who between the two had got us sent to the mast-head occasionally for being saucy to the marine officer, because we did not like being bitten, without licking Jacko for it.

A reward was offered to find out who let it loose, that F. might make the person or persons pay the damage; but it was never found out, and on the earliest opportunity the monkey was sent out of the ship, on board a merchant vessel we fell in with, bound to Malta, his master having had quite enough of monkey tricks.

A ship of the line, the Kent (74), Captain Pulteney Malcolm, having been kept in the Bay of Naples to attend the royal family there, in case of their being obliged to go to Palermo, to avoid falling into the hands of the French, the Renown was sent to relieve her. The Kent was ordered home in consequence of being leaky, and very much out of repair. Captain J. C. White wishing to return home, exchanged into the Kent with Captain Pulteney Malcolm; he took several of the midshipmen with him, and myself amongst the number. We remained ten days at Naples, which were employed by the captain in seeing everything worth observation, and he was so kind as to take another youngster and myself with him.

After the above period, we left Naples for the Bay of Salerno, at which place we embarked a large supply of cattle and vegetables for our fleet off Toulon. On joining them, we found our ship very weak, and her timbers, from the looseness of several bolts, working very much, and causing her to make a good deal of water,—in fine weather from six to eight inches per hour, and in bad weather two feet, which kept increasing to nearly four,—until our arrival in England.

After having given the bullocks to the ships, we proceeded to Gibraltar, and from thence to Cadiz, where we took on board a million and sixty thousand dollars. We anchored near a handsome French seventy-four and frigate; the former, called L’Aigle, the name of the other I forget. Whenever we passed near them, some of their crew would abuse us; we told them to come outside, and see how soon we would take the change out of them; but they stood too much in awe of a British seventy-four, although we had such a tempting cargo to urge them to the risk.

At this period, four of our frigates, under Sir Graham Moore, were cruising off Cape St. Vincent to intercept the four Spanish frigates, loaded with treasure, expected home. We spoke our ships off there, and a few days afterwards they fell in with the Spaniards, took three, and the unfortunate fourth blew up in the action with all her crew.

I always did think, and my opinion has never changed, that it was a cruel thing to send only four frigates to detain four others, when by increasing the force by two or three line-of-battle ships, this might have been effected without loss of blood, or honour to the Spaniards. If it was necessary to detain these vessels and treasure from political motives, in order to make the king of Spain declare his equivocal conduct, it would have been humane to have sent such a force as would have put resistance out of the question; for what man, who was not a traitor, could yield without fighting (and with such a valuable cargo on board), to a force, in all appearance, not greater than his own. It was an untoward event. After a long passage, we at length arrived at Spithead, the ship in a very leaky, weak state. Having landed the money, we left Portsmouth the end of October for Chatham, at which place the ship was paid off.

Our old parson was a “rum” subject; after trying all other mess places, he got old Pipes, the boatswain, to take him into his. They agreed very well for a little time; but one unfortunate day, the evil genius of poor old Fritz prevailed, for Pipes coming down rather unexpectedly to his cabin in the fore cock-pit to get a glass of grog, having got wet when the hands were turned up reefing topsails, he found the parson helping himself rather too freely out of his liquor-case. This was a crime Mr. Boatswain could not put up with. A breach immediately ensued, and an instant dismissal from his berth took place, with the exclamation of, “The parson is such a black; I cannot allow him to mess with me any longer.” After this occurrence, the captain interfered, and he again messed in his proper place with the officers in the wardroom. And I recollect one Sunday morning before church-time, the old fellow came into our berth, and with his hand to his stomach, began: “Oh! my dear fellow, I feel so poorly, I do not know what to do, or how I shall get through the service.” “What is the matter, Mr. F.?” I enquired. “Oh! I feel such a pain.” I knew what he wanted, so I went to the locker, took out the rum bottle, and gave a good boatswain’s glass of grog (three parts spirits, and one water). He told me I had saved his life, and that now he could preach very well. “Come, sir,” said I, “take a north-wester to wash the other down,” which he did. The service commenced soon after, and he performed it admirably.

He was a clever, facetious, and kind-hearted person; and I believe it was money matters that drove him, poor man! to the bottle; he died sometime after on shore. He used to tell us boys: “My dear fellows, do as I say, and not as I do.”

Not having been in England for four years, and my brother being encamped on Coxheath, I got permission, previous to the ship being paid off, to go and see him. Nothing would serve me but a ride on horseback. I was dressed out very smart in white visibles—not invisibles, as the ladies call them—although it appears the fashion of the day to show they wear trousers, whose scientific, Oriental name, by-the-bye, is fatimas. To the young ladies I have a pretty little anecdote to relate. I knew a very gallant officer who fell deeply in love with a lady merely from handing her into a carriage. The moment she put her pretty feet upon the carriage steps he was pierced by Cupid’s arrows. He dreamed of them all night; thought of them when he awoke in the morning; he could not drive them from his imagination during the day. The pretty feet again appeared before his fancy when asleep the next night, and the third day found him prostrate before them, acknowledging their beauty, and supplicating that he might call them his own. He was accepted. Were this not an “olla”—which means in Spanish something of all sorts—I should not have ventured to have written the above.

To return to my ride. As I said before, I was in full dress, with cocked hat, long coat, and side-arms, that I might appear in camp in a becoming manner. The landlord at the inn told me he knew sailors liked to ride fast, and promised to give me a quiet blood mare he had in his stables, who would show me the way. She was shortly equipped, and brought out. Upon her back I mounted; but scarcely were we out of the town of Chatham when off she started at full speed, and ran away with me along the turnpike road, to the amusement of some of his Majesty’s liege subjects, and to the terror and dismay of others—up hill, down dale, splashing myself, and every person I met, with mud, for the roads were wet, and it began to pour with rain. The ladies and gentlemen in their carriages as I passed them stared at me with astonishment. Having got to a place, called Kit’s Cot Hill, I ran on board of a man riding upon a donkey, with two sacks of flour, knocking him, donkey and cargo, head over heels; but my steed being pretty nearly blown, I at length stopped her.

The miller was, fortunately, not hurt, but came up in a great passion to attack me. Luckily just at the moment some soldiers, who belonged to the same regiment as my brother, were passing by: they took my part, and, a parley ensuing, I explained how the untoward event had happened, and it ended in a laugh. Not far from this was a small inn, where I put up my flyaway, having had enough riding for one day, hired a gig, and at last got safe to the regiment without any broken bones.

Shortly after this the ship was paid off, and I joined the Barfleur (98), having had six weeks’ leave to see my friends and relate the wonders of my four years’ voyage in foreign parts.

Throughout the four months I passed in the Barfleur we were attached to the channel fleet.

In May, 1805, I removed to the Neptune (98 guns), Captain T. F. Fremantle, a clever, brave, and smart officer, who sent me home to pass my examination at Somerset House, in August, which I did, before old Captain Sir Alexander Snap Hammond, whose character for turning mids back frightened me not a little. The one examined before me not having been sent, as from Oxford or Cambridge, to rusticate in green fields and sylvan groves, but condemned to study six months longer in a mid’s berth on the briny element in order to finish his nautical education, and eat peas-pudding, burgoo and molasses, salt-junk, lobscouse, sea-pie, and study Hamilton Moore. However, the passing captains, seeing I was alarmed on first entering, civilly desired me to be seated a few minutes and take courage. Having waited a short time, and got rather better of some odd qualms and palpitations which the unfortunate candidate turned back before me had created, I was ordered to find the time of high-water at Plymouth, work an azimuth amplitude, double altitude, bearings and distances, &c., which being performed, I was desired to stand up, and consider myself on the quarter-deck of a man-of-war at Spithead—“unmoor”—“get underway”—“stand out to sea”—“make and shorten sail”—“reef”—“return into port”—“unrig the foremast and bowsprit, and rig them again.” I got into a scrape after reefing for not overhauling the reef tackles when hoisting the sails. However, they passed me, and desired me to come again the next day to receive my passing certificate. I made the captains the best bow I could, and, without staying to look behind me, bolted out of the room, and was surrounded in a moment by other poor fellows, who were anxiously waiting their turn to be called in for examination, who asked what questions had been put to me, and the answers I made, &c.

This important event over, I spent a few days of September with my friends; then repaired to Plymouth, and was ordered a passage to join the Neptune (98), off Cadiz, in the Belleisle (74), one of the very last ships that sailed to join the fleet of Lord Nelson.

We had a very quick run out, and ten days before the ever-memorable and glorious 21st of October, 1805, I rejoined my ship.

CHAPTER VI.

The Battle of Trafalgar, and extracts from the log of His Majesty’s Ship Neptune, on the 21st, 22nd, and 23rd October, 1805.

FEELINGS OF A CREW GOING INTO ACTION. BY LIEUT. H. GASCOIGNE, R.M.

Extracted from a Poem called “Fame.”

“The man who pants not for his country’s fame

Is lost to virtue and the sense of shame;

For here the common parent of us all,

Bears every claim of those whom dear we call—

Our father, mother, brother, sister, wife,

Religion, friendship—all that’s good in life,

The whole united in the single name

Of country! ever our support must claim.

Poor is the soul who could outlive the day

When honour called him, and he shunn’d the fray;

Poor is the man who yet could wish to live

When to his country death would glory give!

Pardon, O God! thou righteous Judge of all,

If willing we obey our country’s call,

Though ill-prepared; for Thou didst plant these laws,

And to Thy mercy we submit our cause!

Full expectation gives the mind to wait,

And moments lengthen in the hands of fate.”

I shall never forget the 18th, 19th, 20th, and 21st of October, 1805. Signs of a movement in the combined fleets of France and Spain in Cadiz were made by signal on the 18th by the inshore squadron, and on the 19th the enemy came out of port. The wind was light and the day rather hazy, so that the body of our fleet never perceived them. Sunday we had a fresh breeze, when some of the headmost ships saw the enemy in shore, but they were too close under the land to be attacked. All hearts towards evening beat with joyful anxiety for the next day, which we hoped would crown our anxious blockade labours with a successful battle. When night closed in, the rockets and blue lights, with signal guns, informed us the inshore squadron still kept sight of our foes, and, like good and watchful dogs, our ships continued to send forth occasionally a growling cannon to keep us on the alert, and to cheer us with the hope of a glorious day on the morrow.

And the morrow came; and with it the sun rose, which, as it ascended from its bed of ocean, looked hazy and watery, as if it smiled in tears on many brave hearts which fate had decreed should never see it set. It was my morning watch; I was midshipman of the forecastle, and at the first dawn of day a forest of strange masts was seen to leeward. I ran aft and informed the officer of the watch. The captain was on deck in a moment, and ere it was well light, the signals were flying through the fleet to bear up and form the order of sailing in two columns.

The wind had moderated considerably in the night, but still our fleet, which consisted of twenty-seven sail of the line, four frigates, a schooner, and cutter, was much scattered. Our ship had been previously prepared for battle, so that with the exception of stowing hammocks, slinging the lower yards, stoppering the topsail-sheets, and other minor matters, little remained to be done. All sail was set, and the different ships tried to form the line in two divisions, but the lightness of the wind, and the distance of the sternmost from the van, prevented anything like speed in the manœuvre; in short, the line never was properly formed, for the brave and gallant chiefs of each division were too eager to get into battle to wait for this. The old Neptune, which never was a good sailer, took it into her head to sail better that morning than I ever remember to have seen her do before. About ten o’clock we got close to the Victory, and Captain Fremantle had intended to pass her and break the enemy’s line, but poor Lord Nelson himself hailed us from the stern-walk of the Victory, and said, “Neptune, take in your studding-sails and drop astern; I shall break the line myself.” A signal was then made for the Téméraire (98) to take her station between us and the Victory, which consequently made us the third ship in the van of his lordship’s column.

At this period the enemy were forming their double line in the shape of a crescent. It was a beautiful sight when their line was completed: their broadsides turned towards us, showing their iron teeth, and now and then trying the range of a shot to ascertain the distance, that they might, the moment we came within point blank (about six hundred yards), open their fire upon our van ships—no doubt with the hope of dismasting some of our leading vessels before they could close and break their line. Some of them were painted like ourselves—with double yellow sides; some with a broad single red or yellow streak; others all black; and the noble Santissima Trinidada (138), with four distinct lines of red, with a white ribbon between them, made her seem to be a superb man-of-war, which indeed she was. Her appearance was imposing; her head splendidly ornamented with a colossal group of figures, painted white, representing the Holy Trinity, from which she took her name. This magnificent ship was destined to be our opponent. She was lying-to under topsails, top-gallant sails, royals, jib, and spanker; her courses were hauled up; and her lofty, towering sails looked beautiful, peering through the smoke, as she awaited the onset. The flags of France and Spain, both handsome, chequered the line, waving defiance to that of Britain.

Then, in our fleet, union-jacks and ensigns were made fast to the fore and fore-topmast-stays, as well as to the mizen-rigging, besides one at the peak, in order that we might not mistake each other in the smoke, and to show the enemy our determination to conquer. Towards eleven, our two lines were better formed, but still there existed long gaps in Vice-Admiral Collingwood’s division. Lord Nelson’s van was strong: three three-deckers (Victory, Téméraire, and Neptune), and four seventy-four’s, their jib-booms nearly over the others’ taffrails, the bands playing “God save the King,” “Rule Britannia,” and “Britons strike home;” the crews stationed on the forecastle of the different ships, cheering the ship ahead of them when the enemy began to fire, sent those feelings to our hearts that ensured us victory. About ten minutes before twelve, our antagonists opened their fire upon the Royal Sovereign (110), Vice-Admiral Collingwood, who most nobly, and unsupported for at least ten minutes, led his division into action, steering for the Santa Anna (112), which was painted all black, bearing the flag of Admiral Gravina, during which time all the enemy’s line that could possibly bring a gun to bear were firing at her. She was the admiration of the whole fleet.

To show the great and master mind of Nelson, who was thinking of everything even in the momentous hour of battle, when most minds would have been totally absorbed in other matters, it was remarked by him that the enemy had the iron hoops round their masts painted black; orders were issued by signal to whitewash those of his fleet, that in the event of all the ensigns being shot away, his ships might be distinguished by their white masts and hoops.

In order to convey a more accurate notion of the commencement and of the ensuing events of this glorious day, I shall introduce an extract from the log-book of His Majesty’s Ship Neptune (98 guns):—

“A.M., moderate and fine weather; at daylight discovered 39 strange ships to leeward. At 6, answered the signal from the Victory, Lord Nelson’s flag-ship, No. 76, to form the order of sailing in two lines; bore up and made all sail, the fleet consisting of twenty-seven ships of the line, four frigates, a cutter, and schooner, in company; cleared ship for action. At 11, answered the general telegraph signal, ‘England expects every man will do his duty’; Captain Fremantle inspected the different decks, and made known the above signal, which was received with cheers. At 11.30, the signal to break the enemy’s line, and engage to leeward.

“At 12, the Royal Sovereign (110), Vice-Admiral Collingwood, most nobly broke the enemy’s line, and engaged the Spanish Admiral Gravina, whose flag was flying in the Santa Anna (112), cutting off the 19th ship from their rear; the French and Spanish fleet, of 33 sail of the line, 4 frigates, and 2 brigs, lying-to for us to leeward, with their heads to the northward.

“At 12.15, the Victory (100), Vice-Admiral Lord Nelson, followed by the Téméraire (98), Captain Eliab Hervey, and Neptune (98), Captain Fremantle, broke the line of the enemy by the French Commander-in-Chief’s ship, Admiral Villeneuve, in the Bucentaure (84), and Santissima Trinidada (138), of four decks, bearing the flag of Rear-Admiral Don Cisneros Baltazar, the eleventh ship from the van.

“At 12.25, three of the enemy’s ships of the line opened their fire upon us, raking us fore and aft. At 12.35, we broke their line, passed between, and opened our broadside and raked them on both sides. At 12.47, we engaged a two-deck ship, with a flag at her mizen. At 1.30, entirely dismasted her, she struck her colours; but before that, the Leviathan (74), also opened her broadside upon her, we passed on (first giving her three hearty cheers), and bore down and attacked the Santissima Trinidada, a Spanish four-decker of 140 guns, with a flag at her mizen; raked her as we passed under her stern; and at 1.50 opened our fire on her starboard quarter. At 2.40, shot away her main and mizen masts; at 2.50, her foremast; at 3, she cried for quarter, and hailed us to say they had surrendered; she then stuck English colours to the stump of her mainmast; gave her three cheers. At this time the Leviathan and Conqueror (74’s), on our starboard quarter, firing on some of the enemy’s ships. Our standing and running rigging much cut; foretop-gallant and royal-yard shot away; the foremast and foretop-mast very badly wounded; three shot in the main-mast; one cheek of the mizen mast shot away, and wounded in other places; foreyard nearly shot in two, and ship pulled in several places; sent down men to get up more shot, having nearly fired away all that was on deck.

“When the smoke cleared away, observed the Victory, Royal Sovereign, and Téméraire warmly engaged, and the six van ships of the enemy who had not been engaged had tacked, and were bearing down to attack us. At 3.30, opened our fire on them, assisted by the Leviathan and Conqueror; observed one of them to have all her masts shot away by our united fire; the rest then hauled their wind (we learned afterwards it was Rear-Admiral Dumanoir), and making off to the southward, and we not in a condition to follow them, our sails being nearly shot from the yards, and, in addition to other defects, not a brace or bowline left. Turned the hands up to knot and splice, and bend new sails. At 5, observed 18 sail of the enemy making off, viz., 13 sail of the line, 3 frigates, and 2 brigs, leaving to us 20 ships of the line, 2 of which were first-rates, viz., Santissima Trinidada and Santa Anna. At 5.15, a French ship of the line, L’Achille, blew up with nearly all her crew. Observed the Victory with her mizen-mast and all her topmasts shot away; the Royal Sovereign with only her foremast standing; unable to see the condition of the rest of the fleet. At 6, we hailed the Ajax (74), and told her to go and take possession of a French ship of the line dismasted; saw the Prince (98) take the Santissima Trinidada (138) in tow, which had struck to us. Found we had 10 men killed, and 35 wounded, 4 of whom shortly after died of their wounds.

“At midnight, having repaired what damages we could, made sail. At 4 in the morning of the 22nd, we were spoke by the Pickle schooner, who told us it was Admiral Collingwood’s orders. We took some ship in tow. At daylight, observed Admiral C.’s flag in the Euryalus frigate, with the Royal Sovereign in tow, who made our signal to take her in tow, which we did.

“At daylight, it blew a fresh gale from the S.S.W.; the ships very much scattered; all the prizes dismasted and drifting about, most of them having been cast off from the ships that had them in tow; and the French 84-gun ship, Rédoutable, while in tow of the British Swiftsure, foundered with nearly all her unfortunate crew. At daylight of the 23rd, we picked up four of her people floating upon a piece of her wreck. Came on board of us, as prisoner from the Mars (74), Admiral Villeneuve, the French commander-in-chief.

“In this battle we lost the brave Vice-Admiral Viscount Nelson, who was killed on board the Victory by a musket-ball from the maintop of the French 84-gun ship, Rédoutable. The news of the death of this lamented hero threw a damp over our victory, which we were not prepared for. At noon on the 23rd, the signal was made that the remnant of the enemy’s fleet was coming out of Cadiz to try and pick up some of the dismasted ships and prizes; cast off the Royal Sovereign, and bore up with the rest of the ships that were able, and formed the line of battle to leeward of our dismasted ships and prizes for their protection; on seeing which, the enemy returned into port without accomplishing his object, but losing another ship, the El Rayo (100), for his pains!”

Thus ended this noble fight, the consequences of which were felt from one end of Europe to the other, indeed, I may say, in all parts of the world; and, surely, for such a day’s work, the country ought to have voted a medal, not only to the admirals and captains, but (as was the case at Waterloo) to every officer, seaman, and marine, in the fleet.

The loss of the Neptune in this action, considering what she did, was comparatively small; but the ship was admirably managed by her gallant captain, who was ably supported by a clever scientific first lieutenant (the present Captain George Acklom), who justly merited every praise for his coolness and abilities on that memorable day.

During the time we were going into action, and being raked by the enemy, the whole of the crew, with the exception of the officers, were made to lie flat on the deck, to secure them from the raking shots, some of which came in at the bows and went out at the stern. Had it not been for the above precaution, many lives must have been sacrificed. My quarters were the five midship-guns on each side of the main-deck. I was sent on board the Santissima Trinidada, a few days after the action, to assist in getting out the wounded men, previous to destroying her. She was a magnificent ship, and ought now to be in Portsmouth harbour. Her top-sides, it is true, were perfectly riddled by our beautiful firing, and she had, if I recollect right, 550 killed and wounded; but from the lower part of the sills of the lower-deck ports to the water’s edge, few shot of consequence had hurt her between wind and water, and those were all plugged up. She was built of cedar, and would have lasted for ages, a glorious trophy of the battle; but “sink, burn, and destroy,” was the order of the day, and after a great deal of trouble, scuttling her in many places, hauling up her lower-deck ports,—that when she rolled the heavy sea might fill her decks,—she did at last go unwillingly to the bottom.

I have now by me a gilt dirk that I brought away from her, it belonged to the Spanish admiral’s son, Don Baltazar Cisneros; I would not part with it for its weight in gold. Of all our hard-earned prizes, only four got safe to Gibraltar; viz., San Ildefonso (74), San Juan Nepomuceno (74), Bahama (74), and the old English Swiftsure (74), the rest were either sunk or burnt. Nothing being talked of now but horizontal firing, it is to be hoped we shall fire as well and with the same precision and effect next war, as the British fleet did on this memorable day.

The establishment of the school for naval gunnery on board the Excellent at Portsmouth, placed as it is under the superintendence of Sir Thomas Hastings, and other scientific officers, will, in my humble opinion however some persons may affect to despise teaching seamen the science of naval gunnery, be of general benefit to the service. One of the originators of it, the gallant Captain Sir John Pechell, Bart., C.B., K.C.B., deserves great credit, and the thanks of the service for the interest, zeal, and attention he has paid to it; as also does Captain George Smith, who invented the moveable target, now used on board our men-of-war, and several other ingenious and clever inventions of his have been before the public. He has lately invented paddle-box life boats for steam ships.

List of the English Fleet, under Lord Nelson, on the 21st October, 1805-27 sail of the line, 4 frigates, 1 cutter, 1 schooner.

FRIGATES.

List of the French and Spanish combined fleets in action, off Cape Trafalgar, near Cadiz, 21st October, 1805—33 sail of the line, 3 frigates, 3 brigs.

(The four ships marked thus (*) were taken a few days after the action by Sir Richard Strachan’s squadron.)

Names and Rank of French and Spanish Flag Officers in the battle.

• Admiral Villeneuve, Commander-in-Chief—taken. (French.)
• Rear-Admiral Magon—killed. (French.)
• Rear-Admiral Dumanoir—escaped; taken afterwards by Sir Richard Strachan. (French.)
• Admiral Gravina—escaped. (Spanish.)
• Vice-Admiral Alava—taken in Santa Anna (112). (Spanish.)
• Rear-Admiral Cisneros—taken in Santissima Trinidada(140). (Spanish.)

The loss of the combined fleet was twenty ships of the line, one admiral killed, and three taken; the total killed, wounded, and taken prisoners, was near 16,000 men and officers. In concluding the account of the Battle of Trafalgar, I think I shall be excused for copying into this olla two beautiful extracts from unknown authors. The first lines on the particular circumstance of each of the different powers having a ship of the line, called the Neptune, in the battle:—

“Three different powers to rule the main,

Assumed old Neptune’s name;

One from Gallia, one from Spain,

And one from England came.

“The British Neptune, as of yore,

Proved master of the day;

The Spanish Neptune is no more,[F]

The French one ran away.”

Lord Nelson’s Death and Triumph.

From the Sheffield Paper, 1805.

“Intelligence of a most glorious event, accompanied with tidings of an awful calamity (like the angels of mercy and affliction travelling together), has arrived on our shores, and awakened the public mind from the agony of despondence to a tumult of mingled emotions, sorrow and joy, mourning and triumph.

“On the 21st of October, 1805, while the cowardly and incapable Austrian, General Mack, was surrendering himself and army into the hands of Bonaparte, the noble and lamented Lord Nelson, once more, and for the last time, fought and conquered the united foes of his country; but he fell in the meridian of victory, and in one moment became immortal in both worlds.

“His career of services had been long; but it was only in the last war that he burst upon the eye of the public as a luminary of the first magnitude. At the battle of Aboukir, he rose like the sun in the east, and like the sun too, after a summer’s day of glory, he set in the west, at the battle of Trafalgar, leaving the ocean in a blaze as he went down,[G] and in darkness when he descended.

“In ages to come, when the stranger who visits our island shall enquire for the monument of Nelson, the answer will be, ‘Behold his country which he has saved.’”

CHAPTER VII.

Join the Melpomene (38)—Sent up the Mediterranean—Tremendous weather, with thunder, lightning, and water-spouts—Ship loses her rudder and main-topmast—Proceed to Malta.

Ten days after the action, I was appointed acting lieutenant of the Melpomene (38), Captain Peter Parker. The weather having moderated, we sailed in company with the Orion (74), Captain Codrington: Endymion (44), and Weazle brig, (18); to look into Toulon, and scour the Mediterranean, in search of a squadron of French frigates. We parted from the fleet on the 8th of November, 1805, with every prospect of a most delightful cruise, and the chance of picking up some prizes; but a few days after leaving Gibraltar, our golden hopes were dashed to nought, and we were sent a wreck, without a rudder, to Malta.

The weather continued moderate until the 11th, when we captured a small Spanish settee, laden with stores of little value, and took her in tow, for the purpose of conveying her to the commodore, but a heavy squall coming on, we destroyed her.

On the 12th, we saw the island of Majorca, and finding the main-yard sprung, we lowered it down, and fished it. On the 13th, owing to the violence of the gale and heavy sea, we bore up, with the Weazle brig in company, to take shelter under Majorca; at this time the ship was labouring very hard, in consequence of a heavy cross swell. On the 14th, none of the squadron were in sight; the morning of the 15th, about nine o’clock, a most tremendous squall came on, accompanied with thunder, lightning, rain, and sleet, which obliged us to clew up all our sails; shortly afterwards the main-mast was struck by lightning, the fluid exploded by the pumps, and knocked myself and a seaman down; the sensation I felt was that of a severe electric shock, shaking every bone in my body, but, thank God! it did me no further injury; the seaman, poor fellow! was a good deal burnt, but he afterwards recovered. On examining the mainmast, we found it splintered in many places, particularly about the hoops, and in the wake of the trusses, where copper had been nailed on.

The next day we stood towards Barcelona, in the hopes of rejoining the Orion, but between nine and ten in the morning of the 17th, the sea rose all round us, angry, black, threatening clouds, accompanied with water-spouts, and heavy flashes of lightning, gave us warning that a tempest of no common kind was approaching; several land birds of various descriptions, blown from land not in sight, settled on the deck and rigging, in hopes of shelter from the pitiless storm; a woodcock tried to rest upon the capstern on the quarter-deck; a hoopoe, linnets, greenfinches, and other small birds, also endeavoured, poor things! to find shelter, but when the first burst of the tempest came on, they were blown to leeward, and probably perished. In the midst of all this we had to fire guns at the water-spouts to break them, furl the sails, and prepare for another gale. At eleven a heavy sea pooped us, stove in the dead lights, and filled the captain’s cabin with water; the wind increased to a perfect hurricane, and at one, the lightning again struck the ship and hurt the main-topmast and the main-mast. At two the storm stay-sails were blown to atoms, and the ship became entirely unmanageable; whole seas, at times, rolled over her, one of which, breaking on the quarter, struck the rudder, and the rudder-head gave way, it was immediately chocked, and the ship was then steered by the rudder pennants. Between three and four, the main-topmast was blown over the side, the rudder-chains gave way, and we found the main-mast sprung a few feet above the quarter-deck. The whole of the night, the rudder, having nothing to confine it, thumped about a great deal, and made us fear it would shake the stern-post. In the morning of the 18th, the ship fortunately took a heavy plunge, and the rudder unshipped itself from the stern and sank. The sea at this period was most heavy and breaking; it stove the quarter boats, and caused the ship to strain so much that it was necessary to keep the pumps constantly going. Towards noon of the 18th we veered a cable astern with hawsers, etc., and struck the mizen-topmast to try and wear ship, but found it impossible, for the moment we got the ship four or five points from the wind, she flew to again. On the 19th, the weather began to moderate, but still there was a heavy sea; yet, notwithstanding the ship laboured a great deal, we commenced making a Pakenham’s jury rudder out of a spare maintopmast-jibboom, and other spars.

Towards evening we saw the Columbretes, small rocky uninhabited islands, near Ivica, on the lee bow, distant four or five leagues; finding ourselves drifting bodily down on them, we made all sail on the foremast, in the hopes of getting the ship on the other tack, veered away a cable astern, and with hawsers bowsed it over to windward; but the heavy swell,—the moment we got way upon the ship, and she was a few points from the wind, striking her abaft the beam,—made her fly to the wind again. We therefore furled our sails, and let go an anchor in 60 fathoms, with a spring on the cable, which for a time brought us up; but soon after midnight, during my watch, there came on a heavy squall with thunder, lightning and rain, the ship drove, when we cut the cable and set new storm stay-sails and fore-sail; she evidently would not weather the rocks, but when pretty near them, it pleased Providence to send us a shift of wind in another severe squall, which enabled us to clear them. On the morning of the 20th the weather became moderate, and towards evening, having completed our jury-rudder, we succeeded in shipping it, and found to our great joy it answered with a little care very well. The 21st we had a steady breeze from the S.W., which enabled us to shape our course for Malta. It was necessary to keep a sharp look out upon our rudder guys and braces, for the constant friction against the ship’s sides, soon chafed the woulding. On the 22nd, at night, it again blew very heavy, our starboard fore channel was very badly started, and we found the fore-yard sprung; however the ship steered very well, going before the gale at the rate of ten and eleven knots per hour. On the 26th we arrived at Malta, and moored safely from the gales in La Valette harbour. The defects of the ship were as follows: a rudder, main-mast, two top-masts, both lower yards, maintop-sail-yard, the starboard fore channel had to be secured, and general caulking was wanted. In short, the ship was strained all to pieces.

CHAPTER VIII.

Siege of Gaeta by the French—Boat affairs—My capture—Leghorn.

After the repairs were made good, which took nearly two months, we sailed for Messina, and found there some transports waiting for a convoy to take a reinforcement of troops, with General Sherbrooke, to Egypt.

The service being most pressing, we took them under convoy, and after a passage of three weeks, made the low sandy coast to the westward of Alexandria, on which were growing a few date or palm trees, planted in a cluster. We got off the port on the following day, where we no sooner discovered the British squadron, under Capt. Benjamin Hallowell, in the Tigre (80), all snug, than we hove to; and putting the general and his staff on board one of the transports, started back to Messina. The Tigre fired guns and made the signal of recall, which the captain, much to our satisfaction, would not notice, for we had no particular relish to exchange the chance of a good cruise, for the burning sands of Egypt, to fire at Turks behind sand banks and stone walls.

This, however, very nearly got Captain Peter Parker into a serious scrape; for the gallant old Ben. was most wroth, and nothing saved him from a court martial but his being a great friend of Lord Collingwood.

On our return to Sicily we went from Messina to Palermo, and from thence to succour the fortress of Gaeta, near Terracina, besieged by Marshal Massena, with 30,000 men. We ran in and engaged a battery and a French man-of-war brig near Mola. The battery was thrown up in Cicero’s Garden. Night, and a very heavy thunder storm coming on, which blew dead on shore, obliged us to haul off and get an offing; the brig taking advantage of the darkness, cut her cable, and got safe into Naples.

A few days afterwards, I went with some other officers on shore, to be introduced to the Prince of Hesse Philippsthal, who commanded the fortress, and to look round the works and observe the French lines. It appearing to our captain that we could flank the enemy’s works to the N.W. of the peninsula, with the ship, in the afternoon, we stood in and fired a few broadsides, which put them to confusion, however the wind failing obliged us to haul off. A day or two afterwards the wind changing and permitting us to do the same thing, again we stood in, but the French had got something prepared for us this time, in the shape of a good masked battery, which was so well directed that every shot hit us, and we were glad to get off with the loss of three men badly wounded; one poor fellow lost both his legs, another his right leg, and the third was severely wounded by a splinter. We took the hint and did not go there any more. Shortly after this, Rear-Admiral Sir Sidney Smith came and assumed the command of the squadron, he used to send the launches, armed with a carronade, every dark night to flank the French camp on the Terracina side, with orders the moment the gun was fired to pull either to starboard or port, in order to avoid the enemy’s shot. Our being low on the water prevented them seeing us, so that they could only fire at the flashes of our guns. Some shot occasionally passed over us, but the greater part went either to the right or left. One of the Sicilian gun-boats was sunk one night, and some of the oars knocked out of the men’s hands, but by attending to the orders of the gallant admiral we generally escaped. Our other orders from him were not to go within musket shot, and directly the moon began to appear, to disperse and return on board. One night we killed a French general named Vaubois, who had come down to the beach with some field pieces to return our fire.

We went hence to Palermo and landed our wounded men, when we proceeded off Naples with a spy, dispatches, and proclamations, from King Ferdinand the VII., to his beloved subjects, calling upon them to rise and make a diversion to raise the siege of Gaeta; but they were too wise to follow his advice, having neither leaders, spirit, nor enterprise for such dangerous work. To get the above gentleman with his dispatches, proclamations, &c., on shore, being a service of danger, with the prospect at least of a dungeon for the remainder of the war, should they even escape hanging, volunteers were necessary; myself and a fine gig’s crew and a sergeant of marines, offered our services, and engaged not to return without performing the service if it were possible.

We were all well armed and left the ship in the gig, with the spy, soon after dark, at the entrance of the Bay of Naples; the oars were well muffled and greased to prevent them from making a noise. We first rowed under the land towards Baia and Pansilippo; the night was favourable, being very dark, and rather inclined to be stormy, with an occasional flash of sheet lightning, which latter we could have dispensed with; however, on we pulled, taking care not to feather the oars, and to row as easy as possible, that we might make no splashing in the water. At last we got to what I thought a favourable place, and we pulled in, when just as the boat was touching the shore a whole host of fishermen bawled out and gave the alarm. The alarm fires were lit along the shore in a minute, and we were instantly challenged; off we shoved the boat and told the Italian to say we were fishermen looking for our companions. While he was talking the wind being off the land, soon blew us out of hearing and musket shot, when we again rowed along shore nearer Naples, and tried to land upon the rocks, not far from Castle del Ovo; here again, however, the fellows were upon the qui vive, and we again shoved off, when I determined to put a good face upon the matter, and after passing the castle to land right under the houses. They not expecting us there, we succeeded, and our friend the spy, with his dispatches and proclamations, went at once into the city, and I then shoved off and got safe back to the ship by a little after midnight; the captain was quite happy to see us safe returned, having so well accomplished our object. Having seen the alarm fires and signals from the ship, he was very anxious on our account.

The spy being a clever fellow, managed his business well, and in a fortnight after returned safe to Palermo with answers. Nothing was done, for King Joe and his police kept too sharp a look out, to allow his Sicilian Majesty’s corps of lazzaroni to make, or attempt to make, any disturbance.

On our way off Cività Vecchia, near Mount Circello, in company with the Juno (32), we fell in with two French settees, who were steering along shore towards Mola; one we sunk with our two guns, and the other we took; both were laden with charcoal for the forges of the French army before Gaeta; the Juno went thither with our prize, and we continued off the above place in the hope of falling in with a French squadron, but in this we were anticipated by the Sirius (36), who fell in with them, took a corvette, and dispersed the rest. From thence we proceeded off Leghorn, and on the 18th of May, 1806, at noon, I was sent, with seven men, armed with merely four cutlasses, two muskets, and having only eight ball cartridges, after a French row-boat, with orders also to attack a convoy close in shore under the town of Leghorn. This adventure having nearly cost me my life, I shall enter more fully into it. All hands were upon deck, ready to carry any orders given into execution; a French row-boat passed close to the ship, armed with musketoons and muskets, and having a crew of sixteen men. The ship had French colours flying at the time, trying to entice out the enemy’s convoy in shore, and therefore Captain Parker would not permit a musket to be fired to bring-to the small vessel passing near us. The wind was light, and the row-galley had no sooner got out of musket shot astern, than they out sweeps and began to pull away, suspecting, notwithstanding our French flag, that we were an English frigate. At this time our distance from Leghorn might be about seven or eight miles. A large polacre ship was seen to leeward, which was taken for an enemy; we bore up and made all sail after her, when I was called off the forecastle, and ordered to jump into the starboard cutter and go after the aforesaid galley; so much was I hurried that permission was not even allowed me to run below to my cabin, in the gun-room, to get my sword and pistols, but, obeying orders, let the consequences be what they might, having always been drilled into me, away I went, rather sulkily I confess, and when lowered down in the quarter-boat, I found that instead of the proper boat’s crew, any men that happened to be nearest, had been ordered into her; amongst others, an Italian, a native of Leghorn, who for some crime had been severely punished three days before. Just as we were shoving off I discovered there were neither muskets, pistols, nor swords in the boat; after some little delay, two muskets, and four cutlasses, with two cartouch boxes, were given us. With this equipment, I ordered the boat tackles to be unhooked, and away we pulled, but guess my astonishment, when upon opening the cartouch boxes, I found the gunner’s mate had given me the wrong ones, for one contained five, and the other only three ball cartridges. In about ten minutes after leaving the ship, the gig was sent to join me, with orders to attack the convoy, and take as many as possible. I therefore ordered the gig to go and attack a merchant vessel, which I pointed out, while I went after the row-galley. A short time brought us within musket shot; at this period the ship was four or five miles off to leeward, and we about the same distance from the shore. The few musket balls I had, were soon expended; observing, however, that whenever I took up the musket and pointed it the Frenchmen bobbed down, we pulled alongside and boarded her, and for a few minutes we had the vessel in possession, when a gun fired from the shore unfortunately drew my attention. The Italian whom I brought with me thinking it a good opportunity for revenge, joined the Frenchmen, and excited them to rise, and they being more than double our numbers, soon overpowered us—stabbed one of my men, threw two overboard, laid me sprawling by a blow on the head and a cut in my right hand. In half-an-hour I was safely landed in the lazaretto at Leghorn. I must do the enemy the justice to say, that the moment they had recaptured their vessel, they picked up the two men thrown overboard.

We remained in the lazaretto three weeks, a surgeon coming occasionally to see the wounded man and myself, and give us some plasters. We not being touchable on account of our quarantine, old Sangrado brought a long slender white stick, with which he used to feel the seaman’s wound,—a stab in the left side,—and my hand; however we did not trouble the old fellow long, for low diet and good constitutions soon healed flesh wounds.

At the expiration of three weeks, we were considered free from any possibility of our having the plague; a guard of French soldiers was therefore sent down to the door of the lazaretto, and we were committed to their charge and marched to the sound of an old brass drum to the fortress at Leghorn, where I had the option, either to sign a parole not to attempt to quit it, or be locked up in a prison. Of two evils always choose the least,—escape was impossible, for the castle or citadel was built upon a small islet joined to the town by a draw-bridge; a strong guard was constantly mounted there, and at sunset the bridge was hauled up, and the sea surrounded the place on all sides, while sentinels were posted at every angle. I therefore was glad to have permission from ten in the morning until six in the evening to walk round the fortress to breathe fresh air, with a young Russian mid who was taken with me. After that period we were locked up in the prison of the fortress until the next morning, when we were again let out to enjoy fresh air.

For prisoners, we were treated very well. I was allowed tenpence a day to live upon, which, with occasional presents received from kind, friendly people in the town, we managed very well. For the first few nights our beds were rather too full of light and heavy cavalry; but by adopting the plan of lying down in them a good half-hour before going to sleep, and then throwing off the clothes, and setting to work with a good will, in the course of a week most of the bugs and fleas were got rid of, and we enjoyed tolerable rest.

At this period Leghorn was placed in a happy state of suspense, between being in actual possession of the French and under the government of the Queen of Etruria. The former held all the fortifications, as an army of observation, while the latter was acknowledged for a short time longer, because it suited the views of the French emperor, and we were permitted to have a kind of acting consul there, who was a most worthy, excellent man—the Rev. J. Hall—whose kindness I shall never forget. He had a very delightful family. What became of them after the French took the entire possession of the country I never knew. Some American merchants also (particularly a Mr. Purviance) showed me every attention when I was let out of prison. I tried, through the Rev. J. Hall, to get myself and boat’s crew liberated, claiming the protection of the Etrurian Government, they not being actually at war with England, and professing neutrality, but I soon found it was useless, for they dare do nothing to displease the French. However, most luckily for me, a friend of Joseph Bonaparte’s, who was at that time King of Naples, had been captured in a French corvette, La Bergère, and he sent out a flag of truce to Admiral Sir Sidney Smith, offering me in exchange for his friend, who was at Malta, which our admiral agreed to. At the expiration of six weeks I was, to my great joy, liberated, and took up my quarters in the town, where I remained more than a fortnight, visited Pisa, and Monte Negro, and amused myself about the town, until an opportunity offered of my getting to Palermo.

Luckily, a Danish merchant brig was at this time ready for sailing, and I took my passage on board her, for, just when I was going to embark, an order came from King Joseph for me to be sent to him at Naples. My passport was signed and given me, and my bill of health from the quarantine office was likewise in my possession; the wind being fair, the brig was getting under. Had I been differently situated with regard to money and clothes, I would have risked placing myself in the hands of King Joseph, for the delight of travelling, even as a prisoner, by land to Naples, for the novelty of the thing; but my thread-bare coat, empty pockets, and tattered garments decided me to get on board the Dane as fast as possible, and run the risk of being taken out “vi et armis,” rather than go in such a shabby plight to Naples. Our acting consul hurried me off, telling me the police were after me. I was immediately put into a boat, and got safe on board, with two of my men, and the young Russian, who, by-the-bye, afterwards turned out to be a Frenchman, sent into our service by Bonaparte, through Russian influence, with some of their own youngsters, and passed off on our Government as a Russian. All that I can say is, that he was a clever, smart lad. I met him in Paris in 1818 (Lieutenant de Vaisseau), when he laughed at the trick that had been played, and told me several more Russian midshipmen in our service were young Frenchmen. This was done by some of the Emperor Alexander’s official servants, when it was the policy of Russia after the fatal battle of Austerlitz, in December, 1805, to endeavour to please Napoleon. Very probably the Russian agent received a douceur for the transaction, and as for humbugging John Bull, and taking advantage of his good-nature, this, added to a breach of faith and confidence, was of little consequence when compared with other matters.[H]

I must confess that, until the time we were safe under sail, which was more than an hour after we got on board, my eye watched every boat with anxiety, expecting to see some French soldiers sent to take me out; nor was I quite satisfied of my safety until we had sailed through the Piombino Passage, which we did before dark, when I began to think I might whistle with safety, being well “out of the wood,” and in the probable track of some of our cruisers.

After a pleasant passage of five days, we arrived safe at Palermo, and from thence I proceeded in a transport for Malta to look for the Melpomene.

CHAPTER IX.

Malta—Dreadful accident by the Explosion of a Magazine in the town, on the Bermola side—Nearly get into a scrape about breaking quarantine—Kind answer of the gallant Admiral Sir Sidney Smith to the complaint—Rejoin the Melpomene—Mutiny in Fribourg’s regiment—Cruise in the Adriatic.

On my arrival at Malta I learnt that the ship was on a cruise, and that she had lost, a short time after I was taken, our gallant first lieutenant, Andrew Thompson, who was killed, with most of his boat’s crew, in boarding,—in the middle of the day, with the barge alone,—a French armed settee, with six long nine-pounders, off Leghorn; but the few survivors—Lieutenant Gascoigne, R.M.; Mr. W. Butler, mid; and a noble fellow, a sergeant of marines, named Milligan, with eight seamen, all that remained out of twenty-five men—gallantly hooked on the boat, and carried the vessel, driving some of her crew overboard, and causing the rest to beg for quarter.

At the prize agent’s I found my chest of clothes, which had been left behind to be forwarded to England, it not being expected I should rejoin the ship. This was a great and unexpected comfort. The delight of a nice new coat, linen, &c., after my poor ragged dress was a treat, which, fully to enjoy, a person should be placed in a similar situation.

I was sent on board the Madras (guard-ship) to wait for a passage to join the Melpomene, when, in August, a dreadful accident happened. I was awakened out of sleep about six in the morning by a tremendous noise, and the bursting of shells. I jumped out of bed, and ran upon deck, thinking we were in action, when a shell fell upon the wharf to which the ship was secured, burst, and killed the gunner of the Madras. An immense cloud of black smoke and dust was hovering in the air, and cries, shrieks, and groans were heard in every direction: a magazine in the centre of the town of Bermola, nearly opposite the dockyard, in which many live shells had been placed by the French during the siege in 1800, had exploded. A party of artillerymen had been sent to take out the fuses, and by some unfortunate accident one shell had gone off, for one or two explosions were heard before the magazine blew up. How the event happened of course not a soul employed was left to tell, and, in addition to a sergeant’s party of artillerymen, nearly 300 of the inhabitants were killed or seriously injured; part of two streets were thrown down, and many more houses were severely shaken.

A short time after this shocking event, a transport was directed to sail for Palermo, and a passage thither was ordered for me to look for my ship. Outside of Malta harbour we were boarded by a boat, bringing a lieutenant and some men from a vessel in quarantine to join their ship also at Palermo. The wind, which had been fair, suddenly changed, and the weather appearing unsettled, the master prudently bore up, and returned into harbour. I thought it very hard to be placed in quarantine, because we had taken the above officer and men out from the lazaretto, therefore the moment the ship dropt anchor, without waiting for the pratique boat to come alongside, I got into a shore boat, and landed in the town of Valette.

Fortunately, as soon as I had landed, the captain of the Madras met me, and instantly sent me back to the transport, saying, if the quarantine officer found me out, I should be sent to prison. The next morning the wind came fair, and we put to sea. Just when we had got clear of the harbour—the pratique office having gained intelligence of my visit to the shore—a boat was sent after the ship to take me out, and place me in the lazaretto; but the wind freshening, we left her astern, and proceeded on our voyage to Palermo, where I expected that nothing more would have been thought of the matter.

From thence I went on board the Thunderer (74), for a passage to Naples, where I was taken very ill with a kind of cholera morbus, which in a few hours reduced me very much, but a good constitution enabled me soon to recover from its attack, although it left me very weak for some time.

On our arrival off Naples we found cruising at the entrance of the bay the gallant Admiral Sir Sidney Smith, who sent for me on board the Pompée (80), and said, “What is this you have been doing? You are a very pretty fellow! This morning a brig came from Malta, bringing a formal complaint against you from the governor for breaking quarantine, and requesting me to send you back there to be tried; but,” added he, in the kindest manner, “never mind, I have answered them, and told them they, not you, were to blame, for had they done their duty you could never have got on shore, and it was entirely owing to their neglect that you transgressed the quarantine laws.” That answer settled the matter, and I never heard anything more of the affair, although, after joining the Melpomene, which I did in the course of a few days, the ship was sent to Malta to refit.

I was quite delighted to get back to my old ship, and be under the command of her dashing gallant young captain, who, had he not been killed afterwards in America, would have now been one of the best officers in the service. Shortly after our arrival at Malta, in September, a most serious mutiny broke out in a foreign regiment in our service, quartered at Fort Recazzoli, called “Fribourg’s,” or the Greek Light Infantry. It was composed of Germans, Swiss, French, Greeks, Istrians, Dalmations, and Albanians. Most of the officers were Germans, and the discipline of the regiment did not suit the ideas of these mercenaries; added to which, some of the Albanians and Dalmatians had been most shamefully cajoled by emissaries, under false promises, into our service. In those countries a kind of clanship prevails, and some of the heads of those clans were told, that if they would enter, with their followers, into this regiment, they would receive the rank of captain. These wild chiefs, thinking it a great thing to be made captain at once in the British service, embarked with their followers, and came to Malta, where, instead of being placed in the situation they expected, they were put into the ranks, and one or two of them made a sergeant or corporal. This, with other causes, created a general disgust, and a secret plan was formed by these wild tribes to rush into the officers’ mess-room, while at dinner, and murder every one of them indiscriminately. Suspecting, however, that their plan had been discovered, they did not wait for dinner time, but about two or three o’clock in the afternoon, rose upon the few officers that were in the fort at the time, killed a captain, the adjutant, and quarter-master, wounded the colonel and major, whose lives were saved by the Germans, and hauling up the drawbridge, demanded terms, which were that the regiment should be disbanded, and themselves sent back to their own country.

In the fort at this time was a gallant young officer of artillery, Lieutenant Fead, with a few of his men, one or two of whom refusing, like good soldiers, to quit their post without orders from their own officer, the mutineers killed them, making Lieutenant Fead prisoner, obliging him to point the guns and mortars towards the town of La Valette.

Fort Recazzoli is a strong isolated fortress on the left hand side of Malta harbour as you come in from the sea, and in which was a large magazine of gunpowder. The mutineers held out several days, and threatened to fire upon the town of La Valette if their terms were not immediately agreed to. One day indeed they did fire a few shells, but Lieutenant Fead purposely gave the mortars so much elevation, that the shells dropped quite clear of the town. Things had remained in this state for two or three days, with all the garrison at Malta and the seamen and marines of the few ships in harbour on the alert, boats rowing guard, the batteries manned, and a cordon of troops drawn round the fort; when, on the afternoon of the second day a grand tiraillade was heard within it, the Germans and Swiss, with the few artillerymen who had taken no part in the mutiny, and had been disarmed by the others, watching an opportunity, made a rush, destroyed the guard at the drawbridge, let it down, and sallied forth out of the fortress, bringing with them one or two wounded officers and forty-five of the principal malcontents; the remainder hauled up the drawbridge and held out for several days, again demanding terms, and threatening to blow up the magazine if they were not complied with.

The mutineers being now reduced to a few, early in the morning, we stormed the place with scaling ladders, when part of the 44th Regiment and some sailors got possession of most of the fort; but the mutineers had not been idle, they had built up a kind of high breast-work of large loose stones before the magazine, within which they retreated, and kept up a brisk fire of musketry—a ball from which grazed my hat and stuck in the wall near me. They used occasionally, from behind this breast-work, to demand a parley and terms, always ending with the threat of blowing up the magazine, with themselves, in which were several hundred barrels of gunpowder. General Valette, who commanded the garrison, very properly refused to listen to any but an unconditional surrender—things having gone too far.

We stationed our men under the bomb proofs, it being the general opinion of the engineer officers that when the magazine did blow up the greatest explosion would be towards the sea, where the wall of the magazine was weakest, and that under the bomb proof the men would be comparatively safe; and as these desperate fellows had declared, that if when St. John’s clock should strike the hour of nine in the evening, their terms, free pardon and safe conduct back to their own country, were not complied with, they would set fire to the train and blow themselves and the fortress up, we awaited the event with much anxiety. A strong suspicion existing that they had undermined the garrison, and had made a passage out for themselves at the back of it, I was sent to row guard to intercept any attempt they might make to escape by water. At about nine, off went the train, and a most awful explosion took place; the whole sea wall was blown to atoms, and the shock like that of an earthquake was felt far and near, some fish in the harbour made a spring out of the water, which showed they also were sensible of the vibration. Three of the 44th Regiment who were posted sentinels were killed by the falling stones, and a few more were hurt. I immediately pulled on shore and had communication with the fort, and then went and made my report to the senior naval officer. These desperate wretches, at first, were considered to have perished, but, about a week afterwards they were brought in, nearly starved to death, having been unable to make their escape from the island. They were immediately tried by a court martial and hanged.

To return to those forty-five mutineers dragged out of the fortress by the sortie. They were also brought before a military tribunal; fifteen of them were condemned to be hanged, and most of the remainder to be shot. The execution was most terribly mismanaged: it presented, indeed, a shocking spectacle. But I will say no more upon the subject, further than to the last moment these poor wretches continued to vent their abuse on the English, and the men sentenced to be hanged endeavoured to keep up the spirits of those that were about to be shot—even when the ropes were round their necks they called to them, saying, “What are you crying for? It is we that ought to bewail our fate of being hanged like dogs instead of being shot like men.”

I recollect seeing a Catholic priest very busy on the scaffold, wishing to persuade the criminals to kiss the crucifix before they were launched into eternity, but they kicked him off, and spat in his face, telling him he was no better than themselves.

In November we sailed on a cruise off Corfu, and from thence up the Adriatic, where we spent a very stormy winter, blockading Venice, anchoring occasionally at Trieste, and under Cape Salvatore, the islands of Lissa, Sansego, and various other places. The N.E. winds in winter blow most furiously from the Istrian and Dalmatian mountains, and, if caught by these winds on the Italian coast, a ship is placed in a most critical situation; a heavy, short sea rises with the wind, and you are obliged to carry a press of canvas to prevent being driven on a lee shore.

A Russian squadron of seven sail of the line, besides frigates and transports, with troops on board, arrived from Naples early in the spring of 1807, and anchored off Trieste, the Emperor of Russia having withdrawn his alliance from us, professing neutrality, in consequence of the great success of the French army under Napoleon in Austria, &c. The Russian admiral, Greig, very politely sent to Captain Pat. Campbell, of the Unité, the senior officer in the Adriatic, to say that he intended to send a ship of the line with the transports to land the troops they had on board at Venice, we being off the port blockading it, in company with the Unité. Captain P. Campbell replied that two British frigates would never suffer one Russian seventy-four, with her convoy, to break the blockade, and therefore requested, if that was the admiral’s intention, he would take his whole force, which would prevent any collision between us.

Admiral Greig very properly did so, and saw his convoy enter safely the port of Venice.

During the nine months we cruised in this sea we took and destroyed a great many of the enemy’s small vessels; but our prize concerns were unfortunately entrusted to agents, who became insolvent, and our hard-earned money was in consequence lost. I shall in the sequel suggest a plan for the management of prize-money, in the event of our again being engaged in war, it having fallen to my lot to lose every penny by the breaking of four agents in different parts of the world, into whose hands we entrusted the management of our prize affairs.

These honest people have an easy way of getting rid of money committed to their charge. A ship brings captured vessels into harbour; on board comes Mr. A., B., C, or D., with a smirking face and soft tongue, making low bows, hoping he may have the honour,—being an accredited agent under a bond for £20,000,—to transact the affairs of H.M. ship! Officers generally being strangers in the port, and having orders frequently to proceed to sea again in forty-eight hours, after completing water and provisions, have no time to look after or make inquiries about stability of prize agents, and therefore trust the concerns to the first that comes. The moment a ship is fitted out she goes to sea on another cruise—probably for three or four months; the prizes in the meanwhile are sold by the agent. Now, what does he generally do with the money? Why! speculates with it on his own account. If the scheme answers, he puts the amount of his speculation into his own pocket—we, whose the money ought to be, never getting any part of it. If it fails, the prize agent breaks, and off he starts, paying perhaps not a shilling in the pound. Oh! but then you have got his bond for £20,000! What matters this amongst a whole fleet, when he runs away with perhaps more than £100,000 of their money!

I am not putting an extreme case—this did happen more than once—and it would astonish the public if the whole system of prize-plundering agents that was carried on last war could be laid open. They would, indeed, wonder men could be so easily led to trust persons with large sums of money without knowing more about them. My reply is, necessity obliges them.

Now, the remedy I propose is this. Let the Government, in the event of another war, take the prize agency into their own hands, and deduct an eighth or a quarter to cover all expenses, and, whenever ships leave a station, let the money be sent to England. Government would have the use of it; the officers and ships’ companies would be sure to receive the remainder; and it would be much better to give up an eighth or a quarter to Government to make sure of the rest than to lose, as has happened in many cases, every sixpence of our hard-earned reward.

But to return to our cruise. One morning watch, during the time we were washing decks, and when the after-skylight gratings were off, a strange sail was seen from the topmast-head. Without thinking of such things as hatchways, back I ran from the fore part of the quarter-deck to hail the maintop-masthead, and to ask the man looking out what she looked like, when, just as I had placed my speaking-trumpet to my mouth, head over heels down the after-hatchway I fell, bang into the gun-room. Fortunately, I came off with only a severe bruise, and the spraining of my right ankle, which laid me up for three weeks.

The vessel proved to be an enemy’s small coaster, called a “trabaculo,” the rig of which is merely two large lug-sails, with a boom at the foot of them, with a jib, and sometimes a stay-sail and top-sail, to be set flying when going before the wind. She was in ballast, from Chiozza, bound to Ancona for a cargo. On searching the prisoners for letters and papers, we found concealed in their waistbands and linings of their clothes seven hundred and sixty-eight gold Venetian zechins, besides some dollars, which we took the liberty of extracting. They belonged to a rich Venetian merchant, and he had sent the money on board, under the charge of the master of the vessel, to purchase her cargo. On our chasing him, seeing no means of escape, he distributed the money amongst the men to sew in their dresses.

When we first captured him, finding the vessel without anything in her, Captain Parker was on the eve of letting her go, when the prying eyes of a young mid made the discovery of the concealed money, which we took from them, and then allowed the vessel, with her crew, to return to her own port, she not being worth the trouble of sending to Malta.

Some prizes in a gale of wind having been driven on shore near Pesaro, on the coast of Italy, a flag of truce came off to offer an exchange of prisoners, to which we gladly acceded. I was sent thither, with two boats, to bring back our seamen and petty officers. The French, seeing us coming, got the men down on the pier, to have them ready. Several officers of that nation, who were standing there, came bowing and scraping to the stairs of the landing-place, making a great number of fine speeches, and offering me refreshments of all kinds, if I would do them the honour to walk up into the town, which I gladly accepted, hoping to rest my boats’ crews and stretch my legs for half-an-hour on shore, after blockading their ports for six months.

Just when I was stepping out of the boat I observed they held a consultation. Afterwards one of the officers came up to me, and said that he was very sorry, but orders had just arrived for them on no account to suffer me to come out of my boat. Now this was utterly false, no one having come near them, for I kept my eye upon them the whole time. “It was very unfortunate—they were quite in despair about it,” holding up their hands, shrugging up their shoulders, and making wry faces all the time; “they wished so much to show me civility—refreshments were already laid out at their lodgings—but what could they do?—they were so sorry—but orders must be obeyed.” So, taking off their cocked hats, they wished me adieu. I returned the salute, thanked them for the trouble they had taken in getting a repast ready for me, which the authorities would not permit me to enjoy; then off we shoved the boats, and, after a long pull, got back to the ship with our exchanged shipmates, much amused with the French offer of refreshments, which it was never intended I should partake of.

We continued in the Adriatic until the end of September, 1807, when we proceeded to Trieste to embark Lord Pembroke and suite, and carry them to England. They had come from Vienna. Amongst his lordship’s suite were Sir William A’Court, the present Lord Heytesbury, and a Mr. Hammond. They were all pleasant, gentlemanly men, and although bred in Courts, where little else than cold-heartedness and deceit are learned, they in a short time won the esteem of us unsophisticated sailors.

After a stormy passage of nearly six weeks, we anchored at Spithead, when I found myself appointed lieutenant of H.M. Ship Swiftsure (74), bearing the flag of my much-esteemed friend and admiral, Sir John Borlase Warren, who had been appointed commander-in-chief on the Halifax station.

After an absence from England of three years, the ship being on the point of sailing, I could only get one day’s sight of home, when I set off to join my new ship at Plymouth, and the end of November sailed for the North American station to relieve Admiral Berkeley, where we remained three years and a half.

CHAPTER X.

North American station, from 1808 to 1811—Bermuda—Anecdote—Death of Captain Conn.

We had a long passage out, running far to the southward, and crossing the tropic of Cancer before we hauled to the westward for the islands of Bermuda. In a squall we carried away the fore-yard, which, being a bad stick, went in three pieces. However, we soon made another, which answered our purposes remarkably well, and at the end of six weeks we arrived in Murray’s anchorage.

These islands consist of a group of three hundred and sixty-five, which the Bermudians tell you is the reason there are three hundred and sixty-five days in the year. They are very picturesque, and covered chiefly with sweet-smelling cedar trees, of whose timber several fine 18-gun sloops-of-war and small schooners have been built.

Had the Bermudians been permitted to follow their own plan, no doubt these would have been very safe vessels: but our Navy Board took out a patent for making coffins, and sent them out plans and dimensions, from which they were by no means to deviate. The consequence was, such a tribe of little tubs, in the shape of two and three-masted schooners, were built, that it was absolutely throwing money away to construct them. Several of them, indeed, did founder, with all their crews. The ship-sloops were certainly better—I may say, with truth, they were favourites—very good sea boats, and in every respect excellent vessels.

Besides cedar trees, these islands produce arrow-root of the best quality, tobacco, Indian corn, &c., but not in sufficient quantities for their own consumption: they, therefore, import flour and other articles of food from the United States, and other places. Abundance of fish is taken, such as grouper—which is a fine, firm fish of the rock species, frequently weighing several pounds—chub, porgay, and various other kinds; and in the spring of the year a spermaceti whale fishery is carried on, this species frequenting those seas at that period.

The scenery of these islands is very pretty. Everything here is in miniature—little hills, valleys, and lakes; whilst blue and red birds, flitting about under a brilliant sun, give the whole the appearance of fairy land. The heat in summer is very oppressive, and the heavy tempests of wind, or, to use the native expression, “the blow,” accompanied with frightful storms of thunder and lightning, are most terrific. In winter the gales generally commence from the S.S.W. to S.W., and then fly round to the N.W. at once in a most severe squall.

The approach to the Bermudas, amongst coral rocks and breakers, is attended with great danger, unless you are quite sure of your reckoning. Before the great improvements in navigation, many an unfortunate vessel was wrecked on them.

The whole chain of these islands is formed like the coral banks in the south seas; there are no real springs of fresh water, and most of the inhabitants get this necessary article from tanks attached to their houses to catch the rain, and when these are dry they go to wells dug in different parts of the sea coast, through which the salt water filters, and becomes tolerably sweet. From these the men-of-war, too, generally get their supply, which has the effect of Cheltenham water, and saves the trouble of applying to the doctor.

With regard to society, much depends upon the military and naval commanders-in-chief, the regiments, and king’s ships. Some of the Bermudian families are highly respectable.

Much merriment was afforded one evening at a party, to which a naval captain, who is now dead, was invited. He had come in from a long cruise, and had been paying his addresses to a certain young lady living on one of the islands; but the tongue of slander had been busy against him during his absence, and on his making a proposal she refused him. This came to the ears of the lady of the house, who, wishing to quiz the poor man, and to be very facetious, forgetting that her husband had but one eye, and was not very handsome otherwise, began her attack thus: “So, Captain ——, I hear Miss —— has refused you,” and went on very cruelly to torment the poor man, in his distress, as ladies can do sometimes when they wish to be mischievous. He bore it all for a long time with great patience and forbearance; being goaded at length beyond endurance, he rose from his chair and said, “Mrs. ——, when such an old, ugly fellow as your husband, with but one eye, can get a pretty young woman like yourself for a wife, I ought never to despair.” And out he walked, the tables fairly turned on the facetious dame. Having mentioned the word “slander” in the above anecdote, I am induced to add another story by way of advice to young ladies.

Whenever your friend—and many young ladies have a confidential one—abuses or throws out hints to the prejudice of your absent lover, listen to her with caution. The following little tale will point out the necessity of not relying entirely upon the recommendation of bosom friends in love affairs, for it is an old saying that all advantages in love, war, law, and elections are considered fair. Two young ladies from twenty-three to twenty-five years of age, who lived in a large town in the north, were first cousins, and dear confidential friends; the one, a widow, had soft, pretty, languishing, blue eyes, that said, “pray do love me;” the other, a spinster, had black, sparkling eyes, that said, “you shall love me.” The former had an offer of marriage from a widower, who had a son about fifteen years of age, whom he wished to put into a profession previous to his marriage, but wanted some ready money to do so. He, therefore, proposed that the fair widow should advance him the money necessary to enable him to do it. She, very properly, consulted her friends; some gave one opinion, some another. She hesitated between love and money—she called in her cousin, Miss Black-eyes, who strongly advised her by no means to part with her cash. She still hesitated, asked other advice—sent for her cousin again—went so far as to purchase her wedding dress and make preparations for furnishing a house. In the meanwhile Miss Black-eyes had had frequent communications with the gentleman, and also with her cousin. At last, she got some friends to back her opinion, and, finally, the match was broken off. But the same day the spinster gave the money to the gentleman, who had a license ready—off they went to the next parish and were married. Therefore, I say, be very cautious in adopting any opinion where the least chance of a clash of interest is likely to exist, particularly in love affairs.

Our cruises in winter, during the time we were on this station, were generally to the southward. Sometimes we ran down to the island of Porto Rico, the Mona passage, and off Anegada, with the hope of picking up some of the French vessels from Martinique or Guadaloupe; but the whole time we remained here, nearly four years, only one ship letter-of-marque, a schooner, and brig, fell into our hands.

In our summer cruises, we, on one occasion, went to Madeira; another time to Fayal, one of the western isles, and when there, paid our respects to the nuns in the convents, and bought some of their pretty wreaths for ladies’ hair, beautifully made of parrots’ feathers, in imitation of myrtle. When first we went to the bars of the convent, the abbess sent some of the elder sisters to offer flowers for sale, but these finding no market, she changed her set, and the next time some pretty, interesting young nuns offered their goods, which we immediately bought from such fair hands. If the old harpy of an abbess went away for a minute they used to smile, talk, and give us their hands to kiss through the grates; and their handsome dark eyes seemed to say, “Oh! that these bars were removed, that I might get out of this horrid prison, to which I am consigned by sordid parents to make way for some male branch of the family.” Several of these young ladies, we were informed, had been expatriated from Portugal, from that motive. A short time after we left Fayal, one young nun did make her escape with a captain in the navy, who very honourably married her; but her poor friend, who tried to accompany her, met with a serious accident, falling down and breaking her leg, when getting out of the convent window. She was taken back to her cell, where, it was said, she underwent purgatory upon earth.

When on the North American station I met with a severe hurt, while making sail in chase, which laid me up for a considerable period. A rope having got loose, struck me on the face, broke my jaw, and knocked out five of my teeth.

In winter, the ships used to rendezvous at Bermuda; during summer at Halifax, Nova Scotia. At the latter place we used to enjoy pleasant society, amongst very kind-hearted and friendly people, whose pretty daughters made sad havoc with the hearts of both the army and navy.