FORTUNATUS WRIGHT--_continued_
In 1755 it became apparent that a renewal of hostilities between France
and England could not be long delayed; and the staunch little _Fame_ not
being again available, Wright had a vessel built for him at
Leghorn--quite a small vessel, which he named the _St. George_.
The Tuscan authorities were, however, in spite of declared neutrality,
very strongly in sympathy with France, and they did not regard Captain
Wright's little ship-building venture with any favour; in fact, they
instituted a minute supervision over all English vessels in the port,
and naturally, knowing his reputation, they paid particular attention to
Wright's little craft; and thereby they stimulated that sense of humour
which he had previously exhibited at Malta.
Humbly begging for precise information as to the force he was permitted,
as a merchant vessel, to take on board, he was informed, after some
deliberation, that he must limit himself to four small guns and a crew
of five-and-twenty, and the authorities kept a very sharp eye upon him
to see that he complied. Not in the least disconcerted, Wright
displayed the greatest anxiety not to exceed the limit, and even
suggested that guard-boats should be kept rowing round his ship, as a
precautionary measure; one would imagine that these Tuscan magnates
could have had but little sense of humour! Finally, before sailing,
Wright obtained from the Governor a certificate to the effect that he
had complied with all requirements.
Armed with this, he put to sea on July 28th, 1756, in company with four
merchant vessels, with valuable cargoes, bound for England. In their
anxiety to prevent any irregularities on board the _St. George_, the
port authorities had overlooked the lading of these vessels, which
carried a proper armament and a large accession of men for the former!
In spite of his astuteness, Wright nearly got into a mess; for the
authorities had apparently given timely notice to the French that
Wright's little squadron would be worth attention, and that he could
offer but a feeble resistance, and a vessel had been fitted out with the
express purpose of waylaying the _St. George_: those little incidents at
Malta had not been forgotten, we may be sure. This vessel, a large
zebeque--that is to say, a vessel with three masts, each carrying a huge
three-cornered sail, probably a fast sailer, and very efficient at
beating to windward--carried, according to _The Gentleman's Magazine_ of
August 1756, sixteen guns of considerable size, besides swivels and a
full supply of small arms, with a crew of 280 men. She had been waiting
off the port for some time, and her captain had been heard to ask in
Leghorn, "When is Captain Wright coming out? He has kept me waiting a
long time already." No wonder he was impatient, for it is said that the
French king had promised knighthood and a handsome pension for life to
the man who should bring Wright into France, _alive or dead_; while the
merchants of Marseilles had posted up "on 'Change" the offer of double
the value of Wright's vessel to her captor. Here were nice pickings,
indeed! And these offers afford in themselves a pretty good indication
of the Englishman's personality; he was, indeed, a terror to the enemies
of his country.
Sailing out from Leghorn in the hot summer weather, Wright had to make
what seamen term an offing, before he could set about transhipping his
guns and men; and before he had got half-way through with it, the
zebeque, bristling with cannon and crowded with men, was sighted,
bearing down with the confidence assured by vast superiority of force.
Fortunatus Wright saw her coming, and measured the decreasing distance,
calculating the time which remained for him to prepare with a cool and
critical eye, while his men worked like giants; and, when all was done,
he could mount but twelve guns, including the four pop-guns which he had
been permitted to ship in port: while his crew--a medley of half a dozen
nationalities, who had never worked together--numbered seventy-five all
told.
Hastily telling off his men to their stations, and leaving his four
traders lying to in a cluster, Wright made sail for the Frenchman; the
wind, we may conclude, must have been light or the latter would have
been down upon him before. And now the royal favour and comfortable
pension, the handsome donation from the Marseillaise merchants, must
have loomed very large in the eyes of the French skipper. Even
supposing, as would seem probable, that he was not altogether unaware of
the operations of the Englishman, his vastly superior force, with his
practised crew, should have placed the betting at three to one in his
favour; but the layer of such odds would have failed to reckon with the
forceful personality of Fortunatus Wright, which inspired his men with
the conviction that, odds or no, they must win. When men go into action
with that sort of spirit they invariably do win; nothing will stand
against them.
Handling his ship with his customary skill, Wright manoeuvred
repeatedly to the disadvantage of his antagonist, while his
rag-tag-and-bob-tail crew, standing to their guns with the utmost
intrepidity, poured in such a hot fire that the French captain speedily
realised that his only chance was to board and overwhelm the English by
superior numbers; but when he got alongside he found them quite as handy
with pikes and cutlasses as with guns, and a desperate minority, which
is not going to acknowledge itself beaten, soon daunts the hearts of a
superior force. The French were repulsed with great slaughter, and,
after some further attention from the guns of the gallant little _St.
George_, the enemy hauled off, and ran, having suffered such serious
damage as rendered their vessel almost unseaworthy. Wright followed,
but, seeing another Frenchman threatening his convoy, he returned to
their protection, sent them back into Leghorn, and anchored there
himself on the following day. According to the account in _The
Gentleman's Magazine_, the French ship lost her captain, lieutenant,
lieutenant of Marines, and 88 men killed and 70 men wounded.
No sooner had the gallant Wright cast anchor in Leghorn, than he
realised that he had landed in a nest of hornets. The authorities were
furious at the failure of their schemes, and the clever fashion in which
Wright had hoodwinked them. He was ordered to bring his vessel to the
inner harbour, or she would be brought in by force. He refused, and two
vessels of vastly superior force were placed alongside his. He appealed
to Sir Horace Mann, and there was a fine battle of words between him and
the Tuscans, the latter alleging that Wright had deceived them as to his
force, and had fought in their waters; and they were very angry also
that he should have dared to refuse to take his vessel inside the mole.
To all of which Sir Horace very properly replied that--well, that it was
a parcel of lies, though he put it in the language of diplomacy; and he
flourished the Governor's certificate in their faces, which made them
feel very sick indeed--having no sense of humour.
A couple of months elapsed without either side giving way; and then the
problem was solved by the appearance of two powerful English
men-of-war; to wit, the _Jersey_, of 60 guns, commanded by Sir William
Burnaby, and the _Isis_, of 50 guns. Sir William explained politely to
the authorities that he was under orders from the Admiral (Sir Edward
Hawke) to convoy any English vessels which might be there, and also to
release the _St. George_. To the Governor's protest the English captain
replied that he had his orders, and intended to carry them out, if
necessary, by force; and so the little fleet of English vessels took
their departure in a few days, and Wright was free to resume his
operations.
In a little while, having taken some more prizes, he put into Malta,
only to find that French influence was there as potent as at Leghorn. He
was not permitted to buy necessary stores for his crew, and when he took
on board a number of English seamen, who had been landed there from
ships taken by French privateers, he was compelled to send them on shore
again; and so he went to sea again, on October 22nd, 1756.
Twenty-four hours later a big French privateer, of 38 guns, sailed with
the intention of eating him up; but, according to the account of one
Captain Miller, of the English vessel _Lark_, "When the great beast of a
French privateer came out Wright played with him, by sailing round him
and viewing him, just to aggravate him, as Wright sailed twice as fast
as him."
Of the further exploits of Fortunatus Wright there is but little
definite account. Early in 1757 the Italian authorities, realising that
they had, by their duplicity and anti-English rancour, done their trade
an infinity of harm, undertook, on the representation of Sir Horace
Mann, to observe a strict neutrality in future; and thereupon Sir Horace
wrote to Wright that he might bring his prizes into Leghorn. But he was
compelled to rescind this permission; whatever else they might be
prepared to yield, they could not stomach Wright!
In July 1757, after lamenting the injury to trade caused by French
privateers, etc., Sir Horace Mann continues: "A few stout privateers, as
in the last war, would totally prevent this ... Captain Wright, of the
_St. George_ privateer, did great service of this kind in the beginning
of the war; but it is feared by some circumstances, and by his not
having been heard of for some months, that he foundered at sea. Several
prizes made by him have lain some months at Cagliari in Sardinia,
waiting for an opportunity to get with safety to Leghorn."
And so this great man disappears; his father's tombstone holds the
sentence already recorded, inscribed, no doubt, at the instigation of
his children; but neither filial piety nor national esteem could avail
to place the legend, "Here lies Fortunatus Wright." His place of rest
remains, "unmarked but holy." Mr. Smithers, in his "History of the
Commerce of Liverpool," says: "Tradition tells that he became a victim
to political interests." This is possible, for he was well hated, as is
usual, by those who had injured him; but it appears more probable that
he was lost at sea.
In connection with the career of this fine Englishman, it is impossible
to omit some reference to a romantic tale which appears in _The
Gentleman's Magazine_ for August 1757. The story is told, without
preface or explanation, as it is alleged to have been narrated by the
hero of the adventure, and evidently refers to a period ten or eleven
years previously to its publication, when the _Fame_ was afloat. It is,
as has been stated, a most romantic tale, but by no means an incredible
one: and the specific allusion to Fortunatus Wright, which renders it of
interest in this volume, also constitutes a certain guarantee of
genuineness.
Selim, the son of a Turkish grandee, on a voyage to Genoa, was captured
by a Spanish corsair, and eventually sold as a slave to a young Moor at
Oran, in Barbary. Here he suffered many cruel hardships, but after a
time there appeared upon the scene a beautiful girl, cousin to Selim's
master, and destined, according to family arrangements, to be his wife.
The lovely Zaida had, however, like other young women of all ages, her
own ideas about the sort of man she favoured. Being kind and pitiful by
nature, she exerted herself to mitigate the sorrows of her cousin's
slaves, discovered that Selim was of superior birth, and fell in love
with him. All this is told at great length; the upshot was that the
lovers escaped together, and got on board a French privateer, together
with a Swede, also a captive. Then they were informed that the privateer
"had orders to cruise near Malta, in order to take a bold Englishman
called Fortunatus Wright, and, if the winds would permit, we should be
landed in that island.... Ten days were passed before we obtained a
sight of Malta, ... when a signal was made for standing out to sea in
pursuit of a ship which, upon a nearer view, was found to be the very
privateer which the French captain had orders to take."
Then ensued a hot engagement, during which Selim remained below for some
time, consoling and encouraging his lady-love until the issue became
doubtful, when he felt impelled to take the Frenchman's part.
"Pretending to Zaida we were victorious, I sprang upon the deck, and,
observing that the English endeavoured to board us ahead, I slew the
first who attempted our deck, and, beckoning to the French to follow me,
leapt on board the enemy's ship, unseconded by any excepting my Swedish
fellow-captive, who, seeing me overpowered, leapt back and regained his
ship. Thus was I made a prisoner, and my fair Moor left a prey to all
the wretchedness of despair. After several vain attempts to board each
other, the two ships parted; the French steered towards France, and I
was carried into Malta. The good captain, whose prisoner I was,
observing my despondence, ordered me to be set free, though I had killed
one of his men; and when I informed him of my unhappy story, and my
resolutions to go in quest of Zaida, he gave me 100 guineas, and advised
me to sail for England; 'where, though I am unhappily exiled from it,
said he, 'you will be generously treated, and will hear the fate of the
French privateer.'"
Selim took this sound advice, backed by such a generous donation, and,
after a two months' voyage, arrived in England, where the first thing he
saw was the identical vessel in which his Zaida had been borne away from
him: she had been captured and sent home.
The officer in charge lent a sympathetic ear to Selim's tale of woe,
and, after some fruitless inquiries, "We landed at a fair town, on the
banks of a small river called Avon; and the captain, who had not drowned
his humanity in the rough element on which he traded, conveyed me to the
prison, where, after searching various apartments, at last I found my
fair, afflicted Zaida lying on the ground, with her head on the lap of
her women, and the Swede sitting near to guard her. As soon as she saw
me her voice failed her; I had almost lost her by an agony of
astonishment and joy as soon as I had recovered her. Hours were counted
ere she would believe her senses, and even days passed over us in which
she sat with a silent admiration, and even still doubts whether all is
real."
The reader is, of course, at liberty to share the doubts of the fair
Zaida; but it appears probable that the story is true with regard to the
main incidents.
The remark attributed to Wright--which it is scarcely possible to
imagine could have been invented by the narrator--that he was "unhappily
exiled" from England appears to point to some complications at home to
which there is no clue.
And so we must bid farewell to Fortunatus Wright, who, had he been an
officer in the Royal Navy, might certainly have rivalled some of our
most illustrious seamen in his exploits, and, in place of an unknown and
nameless grave, have found his last resting-place in Westminster Abbey.
William Hutchinson, already alluded to as Wright's subordinate and
subsequent partner, is justly entitled to some further notice. He was
born at Newcastle-on-Tyne, in 1715, and commenced his sea-career at an
early age as "cook, cabin-boy, and beer-drawer for the men" on board a
collier. From this humble beginning he worked his way up, with varied
fortune and a full share of the hardships which were so frequently the
lot of seamen in those days. He was always apparently a strenuous,
conscientious, and courageous man, and attained immense skill as a
seaman. His first privateering experience was, as far as can be
gathered, under Wright in the _Fame_, when he conceived that profound
respect and admiration of his captain which is exhibited in his remarks,
already quoted. It was probably during this time that an incident
occurred which called for ready wit and pluck in order to avert
disaster, not to say disgrace. Hutchinson may have been in command of a
privateer at the time--1747--but it is more likely that he was with
Wright, and in charge of the deck; and there were a number of French
prisoners on board, the crews of three prizes, who were, perhaps
somewhat rashly, permitted to be on deck, with full liberty, all at one
time. Hutchinson had occasion--no doubt in connection with the scheme of
cruising already described--to take all the canvas off the ship, and,
having clewed up everything, he sent all his men aloft to furl sails.
While they were so employed he detected a movement among the prisoners
which appeared suspicious: one of the French captains was going about
among them, evidently inciting them to some concerted action; which,
with all the English crew aloft, might well have been entirely
successful. But they had not reckoned with the officer in charge. With
his hand in his pocket, clutching his pistol, but not exhibiting it so
as to precipitate violence, he approached the French captain, and
quietly told him that instant death was his portion on the smallest
evidence of any attempt to capture the ship; then, hailing his own men,
he bade them look sharp down from aloft, and the danger was averted in a
few minutes. Nothing save undaunted courage, combined with absolute
outward calm, could have saved the situation; had Hutchinson appeared
alarmed or flustered he would have been lost; and this incident, briefly
and modestly related by himself, affords a sure indication of his
character.
In 1757, after the war with France was renewed, Hutchinson was in
command of a fine privateer, the _Liverpool_, named after the port from
which she hailed, in which he made several successful cruises. We are
told that "he would not permit the least article to be taken from any of
the French prisoners," from which we may conclude that, as we should
expect of a man of his stamp, he was an honourable and strict privateer
commander, who was emphatically captain of his ship, and insisted upon a
high standard of duty.
One night he made a lamentable mistake. Continuing, after dark, the
chase of a vessel which had been previously sighted, and was believed to
be a French privateer, he came up with her and hailed her in _French_.
The only reply was a tremendous and well-directed broadside, which did
serious damage aloft, pierced the hull close to the water-line, and
wounded no fewer than twenty-eight of the crew. Captain Hutchinson
devoutly wished that he had stuck to his native tongue, instead of
airing his French, for the vessel turned out to be his Majesty's ship
_Antelope_!
Hutchinson did no more in the way of privateering after the year 1758.
In the following year he was appointed principal water-bailiff and
dockmaster of Liverpool, and held this post for nearly forty years. In
1777 he published a book entitled "A Practical Treatise on Seamanship,"
and justified--if it needed justification--this act by a verse under the
frontispiece (a vessel under full sail), whether original or a quotation
does not appear:
Britannia's glory first from ships arose;
To shipping still her power and wealth she owes.
Let each experienced Briton then impart
His naval skill to perfect naval art.
He was certainly well qualified for the task, and the work is very full
and complete, containing incidentally some yarns concerning his own
experiences, and practical hints upon sundry subjects, as, for instance,
the brewing of tea when at sea, without the common adjuncts of teapot,
cups and saucers, etc.: put the tea-leaves into a quart bottle, filled
with fresh water, and well corked up, and boil it in the ship's copper,
along with the salt beef! Whether the salt beef added to the virtue of
the "brew" we do not know; probably the gallant and hardy skipper was
"tannin-proof" inside!
Hutchinson was a religious man apparently, in a true sense, always
seeking to discharge his duties in accordance with the high standard
thus derived. It is related of him that, when his ship had
foundered--the date is not mentioned--upon one occasion, and he and some
of his shipmates were in danger of perishing through hunger and thirst,
they adopted the terrible device of drawing lots as to which of them
should die and furnish the remainder with this ghastly means of
prolonging life. The lot fell upon Hutchinson; but, before the horrible
act could be consummated, a sail appeared, and they were rescued.
Hutchinson, it is said, observed the anniversary of this day with strict
devotions of thanksgiving for the remainder of his life. Such
recognition was certainly due; but how many sailors would so faithfully
have rendered it?