RETURNS TO ENGLAND.—RECOLLECTIONS OF THE CÆSAR AND THE
CHAPLAIN.—MARRIED TO MISS STEWART.—REFLECTIONS ON THIS EVENT,
MADE AFTER HER DEATH.—HOSTILITIES RECOMMENCED IN 1801, AND
APPOINTED TO THE COMMAND OF THE MINERVE.—DANGEROUS ACCIDENT AND
INJURY DURING THE FITTING OUT THE FRIGATE.—SAILS FOR THE COAST
OF FRANCE.—THE SHIP STRIKES OFF CHERBOURG, AND AFTER A GALLANT
DEFENCE IS SURRENDERED, JULY 3.
Early in February Captain Brenton received an account of his father’s
death; and as peace had now taken place, he was urged to return to
England at the earliest opportunity. This, however, was a measure which
he could not reconcile himself to, until the definitive treaty had
been signed, or a general recall of the squadron had taken place. In
the beginning of March, orders arrived from England that a part of the
squadron, left under the command of Sir James Saumarez, should be sent
immediately to the West Indies, to watch the motions of a detachment of
French ships of the line, about to proceed to that part of the world,
with the expressed intention of recovering the island of St. Domingo
from the empire of the blacks. But under such a ruler as Buonaparte, the
French were not to be trusted with a very large force, in the immediate
vicinity of some of our richest possessions.
On the first arrival of the news of the preliminary treaty being signed,
the crews of the squadron off Cadiz testified the most extraordinary
manifestations of joy and delight. They flew to the rigging and cheered
loudly; many of them actually throwing their hats up in the air, to the
almost certainty of losing them, and even kicking their shoes overboard:
this was particularly the case in the St. George.
But when the order was given out for the detachment to proceed from
Gibraltar to the West Indies, a general murmur of disappointment and
discontent was heard throughout the ships selected; and the crews of
some actually refused to weigh the anchor. The Admiral with his Captain
went on board these ships; and it was only by his authority, backed by
the steadiness of the faithful marines, that the men could be induced
to return to their duty. Captain Brenton says, “This ill humour shewed
itself in other ships, and the cables were hove in with a very snail-like
movement, until all at once a French squadron of several sail of the
line appeared off Europa point under a crowd of sail, on their way from
Toulon to St. Domingo. No arguments were then needed. The capstans flew
round like lightning; all was alacrity and energy, and the British sailor
was himself again. Every ship was under weigh, and every sail spread,
before the French could get far off; and they proceeded in company to the
West Indies. There are fine traits in the character of the true British
seamen. They never fail in the time of need. Give them your confidence,
and depend upon them. Steadiness and consistency of discipline will
always control them. Irritated as they had been by the severity of their
disappointment, they now saw that there was a reason sufficient for it,
and obeyed with alacrity; and I have no doubt they secretly regretted the
pain they had given the Admiral, for want of knowing what, he could not,
consistently with his duty, communicate to them.”
In the middle of March, definitive arrangements having been made for the
reduction of the squadron, Captain Brenton, anxious to return to England,
requested Sir James Saumarez to permit him to exchange with Captain
Downman into the Santa Dorothea frigate, then under orders for England.
The Admiral having consented, the Captain quitted the Cæsar, but not
without great regret, from having enjoyed so much happiness in her, and
seen so much brilliant service under his warm friend, his kind-hearted
and gallant Admiral.
“Perhaps no ship in the British navy had ever enjoyed more comfort and
harmony than the Cæsar; and much of this was undoubtedly owing to the
conduct of the Chaplain, the Reverend Evan Holiday, who was indefatigable
in every part of his duty. And as it is important to shew, how far
benefit may arise to a ship’s company from the Chaplain’s influence,
independent of the weekly instruction, to which he is bound by the
articles of war on the Sabbath, it may not be amiss to describe Mr. H.’s
system. In the first place his conduct was so correct, and so accordant
with his sacred functions, in his intercourse with his messmates, that
the same guarded and decorous manners, were preserved by them, whilst
he was present in the ward-room, as though a lady had been present;
and that alone was a great point where so many young and high-spirited
men were collected together, in all the thoughtlessness and buoyancy
of early life; whilst at the same time he never assumed authority, or
discouraged innocent mirth; and on the contrary, was upon the kindest
and most intimate terms with all. His public duties were most carefully
and religiously performed. It was thought, and perhaps correctly, that
his preaching was too exclusively moral; but it was according to the
light he had acquired; and was most conscienciously given, as the best
instruction he had to impart. His sermons were generally, it might
almost be said always, applicable to existing circumstances, and had
reference to some event, or some person, which it seemed expedient to
advert to. He was most successful also in preventing the infliction of
punishment, as well as in preventing the crimes which called for it. No
sooner was a man put into the master at arms list as a culprit, than Mr.
H. was in communication with him; got at his character, his motives, and
the circumstances which had led him to commit the fault. It thus often
happened, that he found out such favourable points, as enabled him to
recommend the culprit to mercy, and to induce the Captain to pardon him,
on such recommendation coming from such a quarter; when otherwise he
could not have done it without wounding the feelings of the officer, who
had made the complaint; and doing injury to the discipline of the ship.
One very remarkable instance of the success of this benevolent exercise
of his duty may be named as an exhibition of his general practice.
One of the seamen of the Cæsar, who had been on shore on liberty at
Gibraltar, was brought off under a military guard, charged with robbing
his messmate in the guard house, whilst lying asleep there in the course
of the preceding night. Captain Brenton knowing the man accused, to be
one of the most correct characters in the ship, as well as one of the
best seamen, was greatly surprised at the charge; and expressed his
astonishment to the man himself, that he, of all others, should be so
inculpated. The man strenuously denied being guilty, but the evidence
against him was so clear and so consistent that it was not possible to
disregard it. Addressing the prisoner therefore he said, “Lewis, I cannot
think you guilty, nor will I take it upon my own responsibility to act
upon so awful an occasion: think well upon what has passed, for if you
adhere to the protestation of your innocence, I must write for a court
martial to be held upon you.” The accused replied, in the most respectful
manner, “Sir, I never can acknowledge being guilty of a crime, of which
you may well suppose me incapable; but as I have no witness to bring
forward in my own behalf, and that of the soldiers is so strong, and so
positive against me, I fear I must be condemned by a court martial; and
therefore I request you will cause me to be punished on board my own
ship; as I feel convinced my punishment will then be less severe, than
what would be awarded by a court martial.” The Captain replied, that he
would never take upon himself the risk of punishing an innocent man, and
again urged his confession of guilt; and then consigning him to an arrest
wrote the letter; and before presenting it to the Admiral, shewed it to
the accused, who however persisted in maintaining the charge to be false.
The chaplain who had attended this examination, requested to speak to
the captain in private; when he said, “Sir, there is something so very
extraordinary in this affair, particularly as it involves such a man as
Lewis, that I take the liberty of requesting that you will withhold the
letter for the court martial, until I can investigate the affair; and
if you will allow me, I will immediately go on shore for the purpose.”
He accordingly went, and came off the following day in triumph, having
detected a most abominable combination, amongst some of the soldiers
of the guard, by whom the charge had been fabricated, and who had
themselves robbed the sleeping sailor. This was clearly proved to the
entire satisfaction of the officers of the regiment. The real culprits
were punished, and poor Lewis resumed the high character he had formerly
borne, to the great joy of every one in the ship, and to none more than
to Mr. Holiday. Much has a really religious active minded chaplain in his
power.”
The Editor cannot but be reminded at this period in the memoir, of
frequent conversations which passed on the subject; and of the manner
in which the effects of Mr. Holiday’s ministrations were appreciated
by the captain of the Cæsar. It appeared as if the Chaplain in that
ship exercised a kind of moral influence, which formed by itself no
inefficient system of discipline; and certainly gave to the real and
proper discipline a correctness and precision which can be seldom
attained. The moral character of each delinquent was known, the degree
in which it might be safe to remit punishment was understood beforehand;
and it was seldom allowed to fall where any nobler principles existed,
on which it might be possible to work through other means. The benefit
of the system pursued was still more distinctly seen when the state of
things was altered. Mr. Holiday was succeeded by a man of a different
character, by one, who satisfied himself with the performance of duties
which were absolutely required, and aimed at nothing more. The change was
soon perceptible in the way in which discipline was maintained; and both
officers and crew felt the difference arising from the new chaplain’s
conduct. Hints were given, advice was tendered, but nothing produced
any effect; and the Chaplain contented with the formal discharge of his
Sunday’s duties, took no interest in the moral condition of the men, and
as he knew nothing about their state, was never able to advocate their
cause effectually or to befriend them.
On his leaving the ship, Captain Brenton entered into a long and faithful
exposition of the deficiencies in his conduct, and pointed out the
consequences which had ensued from the negligent mode in which he had
fulfilled his office. He stated to him again the course that had been
pursued by Mr. Holiday; and added his conviction, that three-fourths of
the punishments inflicted during the term of his chaplainship might have
been avoided, had the same paternal practice been maintained.
In the month of March Captain Brenton exchanged with Captain Downman
into the Santa Dorothea, and proceeded in that ship to England. The
definitive treaty having been signed, she was paid off upon her arrival,
and Captain Brenton was soon after married to the object of his early and
constant affections, Miss Isabella Stewart, daughter of Anthony Stewart,
Esq. of Maryland in Virginia, and sister to the Solicitor-General of
Nova Scotia, who, with his family was at this time in England. Of the
happiness of this union, the pen of the bereaved husband has left the
most affectionate testimony in the records which have been before
mentioned, and which he began to arrange after the death of his wife,
which took place in the year 1817.
It may perhaps be permitted to the Editor to mention here the occasion
which led to the commencement of these records, as it is from them the
principal materials of the present memoir has been drawn. Sir Jahleel
Brenton had found amongst the papers of his departed wife, notes and
memoranda written on particular occasions, which he felt a melancholy
pleasure in transcribing for the benefit of his surviving children. Death
had deprived him, by a most sudden and unexpected stroke of his eldest
son, within a very short time of the death of his wife. Neither mother
nor son were permitted to mourn for each other; and the sorrowing widower
and father was comforted by this thought, as will appear from many of his
reflections at the time. In alluding to the memoranda and papers he had
been copying, he says, “The employment of transcribing and collecting
them into one series, is to me, not only a source of comfort and
consolation, but of happiness. It appears to prolong to me the blessing
of her dear society; and I humbly trust it will excite me to follow her
delightful example; and to offer up my most sincere and fervent gratitude
for all the blessings which have been so bountifully bestowed upon me
in this world; above all, for that greatest of earthly blessings, a
virtuous and affectionate wife, who was not only a source of happiness
to me, whilst I was permitted to possess her; but whose bright example,
and endearing counsels, have been, by the mercy of God, instrumental in
enabling me to elevate my soul to that blessed hope of eternal life,
which He has given us in our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ; the sum of
all blessings and of all mercies. It is now a source of indescribable
comfort to me, that I have never been insensible of her value; nor have
I neglected for many years, night and morning, to offer up my sincere
thanks to Almighty God, for having blessed me with such a companion.
“When I first began to arrange these dear affecting notes, my intention
was only to copy them, according to their dates, and without comment,
leaving intervals between them, for such further fragments as I might
have the happiness of finding. This I accordingly did; but after
searching every place for papers, very few were to be found, so few
indeed as to occupy a very small portion of the space which had been
reserved for them. I then thought of filling up these spaces from
recollection, with a relation of such circumstances in our eventful
lives, as must be inexpressibly dear to our beloved children, when both
their parents shall have long quitted this stage; and how many a proof
of recorded love instantly suggests itself to my remembrance. I only
regret that this idea did not sooner occur to me, that I might have
begun at the very earliest period of our acquaintance. This I may yet
be enabled to do, should I be spared long enough. I shall, however, in
the first place, endeavour to fulfil my original intention of merely
connecting the dear journals; and of thus shewing you, my dear children,
how sincere, how tender, how increasing was the affection, which united
your parents; how earnestly they had devoted themselves to the happiness
and welfare of those, for whom all their solicitude was excited, both as
to their temporal and eternal welfare.
“I know that it had been, for many years previous to our marriage,
the practice of my beloved Isabella, to commit from time to time her
reflections to writing; but I have not been able to discover any of an
earlier date than that which begins this collection. You will, I am
certain, my darling children, be deeply impressed with the strain of
fervent gratitude, and humble trust in a continuance of the goodness
of God, which pervades it. It will I hope elevate your hearts to those
principles also, from which your inestimable mother derived her comfort
and support in all her trials.”
Towards the conclusion of these records we find the original intention
carried out. In the sketch of his first acquaintance with Miss Stewart,
he says, “In reviewing the events of my past life, I have long felt
a deep sense, and I hope a sincere gratitude, for the innumerable
blessings, which a most kind, bounteous, and merciful Creator has so
constantly showered down upon me; but there is none in this countless
catalogue, which appears to call so loudly for every effort by which
I can shew the sense of them, as the inestimable treasure which he
graciously vouchsafed to me in my beloved wife.
“The parents of your inestimable mother had long been settled in America,
and she was born at Annapolis in Maryland, the 22nd of February, 1771,
(on which day I was exactly six months old, being born the 22nd of
August, 1770). There was a considerable analogy in the fortunes of our
early days; her father as well as mine having lost the greater part of
his property in the American war, in consequence of his attachment and
loyalty to his sovereign, and being obliged to take refuge under the
protection of the British arms. Mr. Stewart went with a part of his
family to Nova Scotia. He had then recently lost a most amiable and
affectionate wife; one, whom your angelic mother was thought greatly to
resemble in person and mind. She accompanied her father, and was indeed
the solace of his sufferings (he had for some time been deprived of
the use of one side by a paralytic stroke). At the same time she was
the delight of all who knew her, from the peculiar sweetness of her
disposition, and the animated expression of her countenance; which though
by no means composed of what the world considers fine features, had in it
‘something than beauty dearer,’ indeed it was indescribably so.
“In the year 1787 I embarked on board the Dido as a midshipman; and early
in the following year went out in her to Halifax; an event that I shall
ever consider the most providential in my life, as it has had so strong
and so material an influence upon every succeeding part of it. I then
became acquainted with your inestimable mother. She had just completed
her seventeenth year, and I was still in my eighteenth. I felt from the
first day of our meeting a delight in her society, and a wish to be in
the constant enjoyment of it, to a degree which was quite unusual with
me. Our situations in life were too distant from each other for me to
form any hope of gaining her affections. Young women take their place
in society, so early in life, in comparison with what is customary with
the other sex, that I saw her placed in a situation far above mine.
She was already in the best society the place could afford; whilst I
was beginning the world, in the humble though honourable station of
a midshipman. She might have been justified in looking forward to an
alliance with the highest individual in the colony; whilst I had still
a long servitude to perform, and a very remote prospect of ever being
able to gain that rank in my profession, which could authorize me to
look up to the possession of her; even were it possible for me to gain
an interest in her heart. That I did love her is most certain; but (I
thought) it was a love arising from gratitude. I was naturally shy and
diffident in society. She seemed to pity me, and to endeavour by every
act of kind attention to give me comfort, and to promote my happiness.
That I did frequently indulge visionary schemes of future felicity,
in which she always occupied the front ground, is very true; but they
were views which I thought it impossible ever to be realized. She was
however, even at that early period, constantly associated with every
prospect that presented itself, as I looked forward to success in my
profession; and so powerful was the attraction which her sweetness of
disposition, and engaging kindness had over me, that although in the
midst of kind relations, I sought her house in preference to all others,
and passed every hour I could get on shore, either there, or where I knew
she was to be found. In the course of the next year, we were separated
by my going to Quebec with my ship; and on my return to Halifax in the
autumn I found, to my great disappointment, that Mr. Stewart had taken
his family back to Maryland. This prevented my feeling any regret from
my father’s recalling me from the station; which he did shortly after,
in order to have me in a ship where I could be rated midshipman; no
vacancy having occurred in the Dido. I carried home with me a sincere,
a tender, and an indelible recollection of the happiness I had enjoyed
in the society of my inestimable friend; an impression that no future
event, changes, or circumstances could ever efface or weaken; although
for many years I dared not indulge a hope of her ever becoming mine.
Indeed I considered it almost impossible, that with such a mind as she
possessed—so cherished as she was by all, who had the happiness of
knowing her, that she could long remain single; and when I had attained
to manhood, and had established in my mind the firm conviction, that
this beloved and amiable creature was of all others the most likely to
ensure my happiness; I did not allow myself to make an effort to obtain
her affections, lest I might never have it in my power to place her in
such a situation as might be worthy of her; and lest it might prevent her
acceptance of the offer of some person more capable of making her happy,
than myself.
“During the course of eleven years from this period of our separation,
in all the varieties of service, situation, and society, in which I was
placed, these sentiments never quitted me. It was not until I rose to the
rank of Commander, that I thought myself justified in looking to her, as
the object of my ambition. I had, during the course of this time, in a
correspondence with my dear cousin, made our mutual friend the subject of
the greater part of our letters; but with little hope or prospect that
my wishes could ever be realized. My beloved Isabella however became
acquainted, by means of these, with the steadiness of my attachment to
her; and it produced, as may be imagined, a reciprocal affection.
“After having been more than a year in the command of the Speedy, and
during that period having had the happiness to obtain, in several
instances, the approbation of my Commander in chief, my prospects in the
navy seemed so flattering, that although I had not been successful in
a pecuniary point of view, I felt myself justified in endeavouring to
excite an interest in the affections of her, who had so long possessed
mine; and wrote to her accordingly. But after writing the letter, in
order firmly to establish in my own mind, that I was acting from the
deliberate conviction that I was in search of real happiness; that I was
not carried away by such visionary schemes of felicity, as too often
haunt the imagination of those, who from the nature of their profession,
are debarred from general society; I kept the letter by me. I had given
my father a promise that I would never marry until I had attained the
rank of Post Captain, when I knew I should have his perfect consent and
approbation with regard to the object I had in view. I was therefore
resolved not to take so important a step, until I should feel perfectly
justified in doing so. I frequently read over the letter, and found
that my sentiments, instead of experiencing the slightest or the most
momentary change, were daily strengthened; that no alteration was made
either by increase of rank, which I soon after met with; by professional
success, which was the cause of it; or by my more intimate acquaintance
with the higher classes of society, to which, through the friendship
and kindness of my excellent friend and patron, Lord St. Vincent, I was
soon after introduced. On the contrary, the rank and honours acquired
an additional value from the hope that they would be acceptable to my
beloved Isabella; whilst her sweetness of disposition, and consistency
of character, constantly rose in my estimation, by contrasting them with
what I met with; however superior many of her sex might have been in
beauty of person, and in the advantages of rank and fortune.
“Upon my arrival in England, in September, 1800, having been made Post in
the preceding month of February; I dispatched the letter; and remained in
anxious expectation of the result for some weeks. At length the answer
arrived; and delightful as the contents were to me, in assuring me that I
had long been the object of her affections, the ideas of happiness which
it excited in my mind, were not to be compared to the real felicity which
I subsequently enjoyed, during the whole course of our union. At length,
after a separation of fourteen years, I met your beloved mother, and
found her all that my most sanguine imagination had painted.”
It is hardly necessary for the Editor to dwell on the exquisite delicacy
and self command exhibited in this touching and simple narrative of an
affection as romantic as it is reasonable. He would merely say, that
if ever the intrusion on private memorials is justifiable, it is when
features of character such as these, so peculiar and yet so beautiful,
are to be brought to light. In other cases, where the gratification of
curiosity is the chief end to be answered, doubts may be felt whether
the advantage gained is any compensation for the breach of confidence
that has been committed. But in this, it seems due to the subject of
the memoir to shew to the world what was not seen by the world; and to
exhibit the real value of his services by stating the sacrifices they
cost him. It is also due to those who may be benefited by his example, to
let them see the power which may be given to principle, when principle is
founded on religion; and the degree in which the tenderness of affection
may be combined with firmness, when the whole mind is brought under the
influence of the gospel.
The following extract from the pen of Mrs. Brenton, seems important as
illustrative of the domestic character of the husband, as well as the
wife. It is dated, Greenwich, January 1st, 1801. “To Thee, Almighty God,
I return my most hearty and humble thanks, for the blessings I have,
through Thy divine mercy, been permitted to enjoy during the past year,
and also for the prospect of happiness on my entrance into the coming
one. Grant, I beseech Thee, that I may so conduct myself as to merit a
continuance of Thy goodness; and that as a wife and mother I may render
myself worthy of Thy protection; and in the performance of my duty as
a Christian, become more deserving of Thy divine favour, through the
mediation of our blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ.”
The above prayer is inserted, not as being a model of what prayer should
be, for in that respect the discernment of a religious mind will see its
deficiency; but rather because it is considered valuable as exhibiting
the mild, gentle, and affectionate spirit from which it proceeded, and
as filling up the portraiture of her character. At the same time, and
to reply at once to similar remarks, the Editor would beg leave to say,
that if this prayer seems incorrect in expression, or in any sense to ask
amiss; it must not be forgotten that there are seasons and cases when the
heart anticipates the head, and when the warmth of feeling and simple
piety supply what is wanting in theological knowledge. At this period of
their lives, neither the subject of this memoir, nor his partner, saw
things as they saw them afterwards; but they were faithful to the light
they had, and they walked according to it; and though that light was as
yet but dim, it was sufficient to guide those into the way of truth who
were willing to be led. Thus proceeding, they saw more, they knew more,
as they went forward. Truth was revealed, in proportion as they advanced;
and in them both we may believe that the promise was verified which
says, “The path of the righteous is as the shining light, which shineth
more and more until the perfect day.”
To the wife’s memoranda the husband subsequently added; “This first year,
or rather part of it, had indeed been a period of happiness to us. In the
early part of April I returned from the Mediterranean. On the 14th I saw
my inestimable Isabella, after a separation of thirteen years. And on the
19th our union took place; in which I received the utmost reward to which
I had ever allowed myself to look forward—one that amply recompensed
me for all my exertions, or rather which appeared a blessing bestowed
upon me by my bountiful Creator, far beyond what I could have dared to
hope for. We enjoyed at Bath a few months of such happiness as seldom
falls to the lot of human nature; but I felt it my duty to follow up my
profession, and in the pursuance of that object we quitted our happy
home.”
In the autumn of 1800 the political horizon beginning to wear a lowering
aspect, Captain Brenton had solicited employment, and had obtained the
command of the Minerve, of thirty-eight guns; which at the date of the
previous extracts, he was fitting out at Greenwich. On the 19th of
January, 1801, he became a father, and gave to his first born son, whose
subsequent death has already been mentioned, the name he so justly loved
and respected of the Earl of St. Vincent, John Jervis.
In the month of March he sailed for Spithead, where he arrived on the
very day that orders were given to prepare for war; and on that same day
he met with a serious accident, by a block falling on his head, which
occasioned a severe wound, and a concussion of the brain. Of this event,
the following record has been found from the pen of Captain Brenton,
written a few days after this period; when his wife had mentioned the
christening of his son. “The ship being ready for sea, I was obliged to
leave my beloved Isabella and her darling infant, in order to proceed
to Portsmouth, to fit for foreign service. She was to join me there as
soon as she should be able to travel. The weather was extremely severe; a
succession of gales rendered our passage a very long one. It was the 12th
of March before I reached Spithead; and on that day a severe trial befel
my inestimable wife, by a wound which I received on the head, by a block
falling on me. The accident was considered so serious as to be reported
to the Admiralty by telegraph; and a Captain was immediately appointed
to act for me; the ship being required on the coast of Holland, in
consequence of an armament taking place in that quarter. To prevent any
alarming reports reaching my beloved Isabella, I sent off a midshipman to
give her an account of what had happened. Her feelings received a severe
shock, but her resolution was soon formed, and in a few hours she was
with me at Portsmouth,—my tender nurse—my inestimable companion—and this
she continued to be during the whole course of her invaluable life; the
soother of all my cares and sufferings; making adversity itself a period
marked by bright gleams of happiness. With her dear society, and that
of her sweet infant, my mind was soon at rest. The wound though severe,
and apparently dangerous, was soon in a favourable state; and every
serious symptom vanished, through the kind and protecting care of divine
providence.
“When I saw the Minerve get under weigh, it occurred to me that I should
derive great benefit, as well as happiness, by proceeding by easy stages
to Bath, and remaining quietly in my own house, until sufficiently
recovered to rejoin my ship. I had no sooner suggested the idea than my
darling Bella’s eyes sparkled with delight. That home had indeed been an
abode of real felicity to us; but which she had consented to quit from
the noblest principles, that of accompanying me to any part of the world,
to which my professional duties should lead me. She now enjoyed the
pleasing prospect of our remaining there for some time. All the comforts
of our home were doubly appreciated in her estimation, as they would so
materially contribute to my welfare; and immediate preparations were made
for our journey. Our sweet infant was by no means well, and his beloved
mother seriously ill, before we reached Southampton; but a great and
merciful God spared and protected us. We reached Bath on the third day,
all in a state of convalescence. The tranquility I enjoyed in my happy
home soon restored me to apparent health; my wound healed, and I thought
myself perfectly recovered.
“My ship was on the coast of Holland, one of a squadron under Admiral
Thornborough, watching an armament fitting out in the Texel and Scheldt.
War was considered to be inevitable, and I became restless, and impatient
to rejoin the Minerve. My inestimable friend saw the state of my mind;
and though deeply suffering from anxiety on account of my health,
added to the painful idea of separation, she piously acquiesced in the
necessity, and resigned herself and all dear to her to the will of heaven.
“I joined my ship on the coast of Holland, but I was soon convinced
that I was not fit for active service. I told the Admiral of my wish
to go on shore again. He kindly sent my ship in with me, and another
captain was appointed to act for me. I proceeded to London to consult Sir
Walter Farquhar; who, considering the wound to have occasioned a severe
concussion of the brain, recommended the utmost tranquility of body and
mind. Could I have remained undisturbed with the idea of approaching
hostilities, I had at Bath every requisite for the most perfect happiness.
“I reached Bath on the 13th of May: and on the 18th hostilities began
with France, my own ship having on that day made many captures in
the channel. It is needless to describe the state of my mind. It was
by no means such as to promise much benefit from remaining on shore.
Applications were also making for my ship, under the impression I should
not be able to join her. I immediately formed my resolution to return to
her; the exhilarating prospects of my profession bore me up.”
Captain Brenton preferred the certainty of suffering to the anxiety
attached to retirement, and again resumed the command of the Minerve,
employed in the blockade of Cherbourg; where several of the French
flotilla had been collected, and were watching an opportunity to proceed
to Boulogne. On the first of July a detachment succeeded in getting into
Barfleur, at an early hour in the morning, although chased by the Topaze
and Minerve. In order to prevent the escape of any more, Captain Brenton
determined to keep as near Cherbourg as possible. During the afternoon
of the second a thick fog obscured the harbour, but by standing in under
little sail, he succeeded in getting sight of what both the pilot and
himself supposed to be the Isle Pelée, at the eastern extremity of the
harbour, distant about a mile. The ship was then wore to stand off under
easy sail for a short time. She had scarcely come to the wind, when a
number of small vessels were discovered under the land, supposed to be
the flotilla; and the Minerve again wore immediately to pursue them. A
cast of the lead having been obtained, the pilot declared that the ship
might run into the centre of the flotilla without danger, which was
instantly done; and when in the moment of bringing the guns to bear upon
them, she grounded upon a shoal, and the tide ebbing fast, left no hopes
of her being extricated until its return. In less than half an hour the
fog dispersed, and the moon shewed them the perilous situation in which
they were placed. What they had imagined to be Isle Pelée was Fort de la
Liberté, at the western side of the harbour. The shoal upon which the
Minerve had grounded was no other than one of the cones by which the port
was formed; and the supposed flotilla, the small vessels employed in
carrying stones to those works. At the same time a heavy fire was opened
from Fort de la Liberté, and Isle Pelée, as well as from two intermediate
small batteries, and two gun brigs lying in the harbour.
Such a situation demanded the utmost energy from every one, and certainly
more could not have been shewn than was exhibited. The boats were
immediately hoisted out, and Mr. Walpole,[2] the third lieutenant, was
directed to proceed in the first that reached the water, to endeavour
to cut out from the interior of the harbour some vessel large enough
to carry out a bower anchor. As Captain Brenton foresaw that he should
require the launch, with her carronade to operate a diversion upon
the gun brigs; the barge was to have been sent to the assistance of
Lieutenant Walpole; but this gallant young officer pushed forward,
without waiting for reinforcements, and boarding a lugger under the
batteries, towed her out with his single boat, under a tremendous fire of
great guns, and musketry, alongside the ship. She was laden with stores
to the water’s edge, consequently was incapable of bearing any addition
to her burden. A new difficulty here occurred; to discharge her alongside
was to increase the shoal; it was therefore necessary to veer her astern
to the extent of a hawser, and to throw her cargo overboard, before she
could be of any service. The fire from the batteries was very galling,
and the ship began to suffer severely under it, both in her crew, and
her rigging, and hull. The launch was sent with the second lieutenant,
Mr. Fitzgerald, to call off the attention of the gun brigs, and had
the desired effect of slackening their fire upon the ship. At midnight
the lugger was hauled under the bows to receive the anchor, but was
repeatedly hulled by shot, so as to render it necessary for carpenters to
be continually repairing her. Whilst this tedious and laborious operation
was being performed the anchor was at last placed in her, but the hawser
from the kedge, which had been laid out for the purpose of warping the
lugger, being shot away, it became necessary to employ the boats in
towing her, a circumstance Captain Brenton would gladly have avoided,
as it exposed the boats’ crews, and took too many people from the ship.
The line of boats soon attracted the notice, and consequently the fire
of the batteries, and gun brigs, which now became tremendous; but every
discharge was answered by the most animated cheers from the boats’ crews,
who gallantly succeeded in placing the anchor in its destined direction.
Every exertion was in the mean time made on board to lighten the ship
abaft; as her stern hung upon a broken part of the cone, and there were
six fathoms under her bows. The guns, useless under such circumstances,
were all got under the forecastle, and every other weight from abaft;
the two forecastle guns alone being employed against the gun brigs. At
two o’clock the situation of the Minerve was so hopeless, from the wind
having died away entirely, and some rise having taken place in the tide,
that Captain Brenton had it in contemplation to burn the ship, taking
the crew away with the assistance of the lugger and the boats. For this
purpose the lugger was brought alongside; the wounded ordered to be
placed in her, and every preparation made to set fire to the ship, when
all other resources should fail. The capstan was however manned, and they
continued heaving as the tide rose.
The day broke at three o’clock, and the batteries increased their fire
with surer aim, whilst the gun brigs, finding themselves within range
of grape shot, annoyed the ship exceedingly. Many of the people at
the capstan were killed or wounded, but their places were immediately
supplied; and the men encouraged by their officers continued the most
persevering efforts. At half past four the ship floated; the cable was
cut, and such sail as could be made, trimmed amidst the cheers of the
ship’s company, who now considered their danger and labours at an end.
The wind however again failed them, and the ship was set by the last
drain of the tide upon another part of a broken cone, where she lay with
only two fathoms and a quarter under her main chains. The lugger, upon
which the crew depended for their escape was dismasted, and in a sinking
state; (the wounded had been returned to the cockpit, as the hopes of
getting the ship off had increased); she was also cut adrift, as was the
launch by the enemy’s shot; no boat remained, capable of carrying out an
anchor; and deprived of every hope of saving the ship; Captain Brenton to
prevent the further effusion of blood, at half-past five A.M. surrendered
her to the enemy, after a most anxious struggle of nine hours.
The Minerve had eleven killed and sixteen wounded. The prisoners were
landed at Cherbourg, to await orders from the First Consul, relative to
their future disposal. These arrived in a few days, and directed them
to be marched to Epinal, the capital of the department of the Vosges, a
distance of nearly five hundred miles: intelligence not very welcome to
the unfortunate captives, as they had flattered themselves with the hope
of being soon exchanged, and kept near the coast for that purpose. Of
this event Captain Brenton speaks thus, “This was one of the most trying
periods of my life, but one, in which I felt, in a peculiar degree, the
benefit of a reliance on Divine Providence. When fully aware of the
situation in which the ship was placed shortly after her taking the
ground, by the fog clearing away, and the batteries opening their fire
upon us, I remember walking aft, and leaning over the taffrail, I offered
a short and humble prayer to the Almighty for my beloved wife and child.
The effect appeared to be instantaneous. In no period of my life do I
remember to have ever been more composed than at that moment, nor did my
tranquility ever forsake me during the whole of that trying night.”
The concluding particulars of the loss of the Minerve, may be here
inserted as given by Captain Brenton. “At length I put the question to
my officers, whether any hope remained: all answered in the negative,
and recommended surrender. The painful alternative was adopted; and the
colours being hauled down, shouts of triumph resounded from the shore.
I then went into my cabin, and having destroyed my private signals,
proceeded to collect such things as might be most immediately necessary,
threw them into my cot, which, though unoccupied through the dreadful
night, was hanging up in my cabin. In this I had my plate, and such of
my clothes as I could the more easily get at, lashed up and given to my
servant. Whilst thus occupied, the master of the French vessel, which had
been taken in the preceding evening, and who had been kept below during
the night, hearing that the ship had surrendered, made the best of his
way to my cabin, and began to console me, ‘Songez mon brave Capitaine,
que vous êtes distingué; que vous vous êtes défendu en brave homme; que
vous avez seulement subis le sort de la guerre; que les Français sont
de braves gens.’ At this moment the batteries renewed their fire, and
the panegyrist immediately took to his heels for his place of security,
crying out, ‘O les coquins, les marauds,’ and such other terms as seemed
at the moment most appropriate for this attack upon a fallen enemy. I
then went on deck, and standing up upon the taffrail, waved a white flag,
calling out at the same time, ‘Nous, nous sommes rendus.’ The gun brigs
also repeated this information, ‘Ils se sont rendus.’
“It was some time before the firing ceased, but providentially no one
was hurt by it. The reason subsequently alleged for the continuance of
hostilities was, that the Minerve had not lowered her sails; but had
the Commandant known of how little importance this circumstance was
in our situation, he would not have incurred the risk of an useless
effusion of blood. Under existing circumstances, he only added to the
injury already done to a ship in his possession. A boat from the senior
officer of the gun brigs soon after came alongside; and after making
himself very certain that the ship had indeed surrendered, received my
sword, which he imagined he had gained by his own valour; and retained
it, notwithstanding the less doubtful claim of the military commander.
But the same idea, which this Commander of the gun brig had taken up,
was adopted by Buonaparte himself; who, having received the dispatch
announcing the capture of the Minerve, whilst in the theatre at Brussels,
immediately arose, and said, ‘Messieurs et Dames, la guerre navale a
commencée sous les plus heureuses auspices. Une superbe frégate de
l’ennemi, vient de se rendre à deux de nos bâtimens cannoniers,’ not
saying a word of the batteries, or the shoal.”