VOYAGE TO BARBADOS
Portsmouth—Guernsey—Sail for Barbados—Honest Henry—Frightful
storm—Adventure at Funchal
I HAD the good fortune to see at Portsmouth the Prince Regent of
England, the Emperor of Russia, the Emperor of Austria, the King of
Prussia, the Duke of Wellington, Marshal Blücher, Marshal Beresford,
Lord Hill, Lord Combermere, Prince Esterhazy, Contezoff, and many more
distinguished English and foreign officers, all in uniform, and covered
with their brilliant stars and orders. This was immediately after the
first occupation of Paris and the declaration of peace. It was a
glorious day, and all the world was there to see them. A few months
afterwards we embarked for Guernsey, and remained there till October of
the same year, when we embarked for Barbados.
Our residence in Guernsey was more than usually gay. There were several
other regiments of the line stationed there at the same time, and the
people of the town and neighbourhood were more than hospitable, for we
had constant dinner-parties and public and private balls. The young
ladies were more than usually numerous, and very many of them very
beautiful. In such a society, and with such luring temptations, it
cannot appear a matter of wonder that most of our young men were, or
fancied they were, desperately in love; and to encourage our pretensions
our kind and ambitious colonel (who was himself a married man) at every
ball slyly hinted to the elderly ladies and mothers, as his officers
passed near, “That is the nephew or cousin of Lord So-and-so,” and “That
is a young man of considerable property in the West Indies,” and so on,
in the most seductive manner, until he made us all out to be men of
substance and wealth. How far this marvellous information was believed I
know not, but it did not in any way lessen the continued friendship and
hospitality which we invariably received. Every evening after dinner
carriages from our friends assembled in front of our messroom, and as
the constant use of these caused many of us to be absent from parades on
the following mornings, with the consequent displeasure and reprimand
from our colonel, we used to allow them to remain stationary for some
time after the appointed hour for our departure, knowing well that our
colonel (who lived opposite our messroom) was watching us all the time,
and that, although he did pitch into us for being absent from his
parades, he was nevertheless as anxious for our enjoyment and fun as we
were ourselves; therefore we pretended to show no desire to be off,
until this mock indifference brought our kind commander over and in
amongst us, saying, “Gentlemen, gentlemen, you are late: why are you not
off?” On this one of our captains (Parker), who was for many years
private secretary to his Royal Highness the Duke of Kent and a man of
courteous address, used to get up and say, “Really, colonel, you are
very good, but we have determined not to go to any more parties for fear
of being late for parades in the morning.” Then he would answer, “Pooh,
pooh! d—n the parades; you must all go—you must all go.” And so we
started for our rooms and dressed and were off as usual. So long were
our dancing and parties continued that most of us were again absent from
parade the following morning. Our colonel still continued to send
sergeants to town to look for us, and to say he wished to see us
immediately. Soon after that, Captain Parker followed alone to smooth
the way and to prepare for our reception. This he effectually did by his
well-timed excuses and his courteous manner, so that when we arrived in
barracks the colonel was so perfectly satisfied that he only said he was
glad to hear that we enjoyed ourselves so much. This was latterly almost
an everyday occurrence, and I mention it here to show how happy young
men may be under a good and kind colonel.
But all things must have an end, and so had our fun in Guernsey; for, as
I have already said, we all embarked in October for Barbados, leaving
our sweethearts and friends without coming to any positive understanding
as to the future. On our voyage we called at the Cove of Cork, where we
remained for some days, and were then joined by the 40th Regiment in
transports, bound for the West Indies and finally for New Orleans, and
here our good and much respected friend Colonel Coghlan left us and
retired on half-pay.
I was at this time in command of one of our transports, and here must
notice an instance of true honesty that occurred. Being tired of
visiting the Cove, I agreed with some officers to take a run up to Cork
for a day or two; but, before leaving my ship, I gave orders to the
senior officer not to allow any of the men to go on shore. On my return
to the Cove I met some of the officers, who told me that my servant had
deserted, having got leave to land on the pretence of taking my clothes
to be washed. This alarmed me not a little, for I had then between three
and four hundred pounds belonging to the troops and to myself in one of
my trunks, in dollars and doubloons, and as I entrusted my servant, whom
I had long known, with my keys, I now made sure all was gone; I hurried
on board and found the door of my cabin locked, and, inquiring for the
key, an officer handed it to me, saying my man Henry gave it to him with
a request to let no one have it except his master, should I return
before he did. I instantly opened my cabin, and the first thing I
observed was my bunch of keys hanging by a piece of twine from the top
of the berth; I seized them with a trembling hand and heart, and
instantly opened the money trunk, and on counting my bags and treasure,
to the honour of poor Henry be it told, not one dollar was missing.
Poor, honest Henry was never afterwards heard of by me, and I was glad
he had secured his escape, for had he been captured and brought back he
must have been severely punished.
We finally sailed from the Cove of Cork escorted by a line-of-battle
ship and two small men-of-war, and for a day or two made good progress;
but we were then caught in a severe gale, right against us, and after
struggling for a day or two the sign was made by our commodore to return
to “port in view,” namely Bantry Bay, on which all the fleet put about,
and, led by the line-of-battle ship, steered direct for that safe and
splendid anchorage, which is very extensive within, but narrow and
dangerous at its entrance, so that not more than one ship can enter with
safety at a time. As we were passing in, one of our fleet, the _Baring_
transport, with the 40th Regiment on board, got so near the rocks that
she struck, and immediately after went broadside on, and finally became
a total wreck. My ship followed in her wake and passed within fifty
yards of the stranded vessel, and it being then early in the day, it was
most distressing and heart-rending to see the sufferers all in confusion
crying for help, which from our position it was quite impossible to
render, for we were obliged to run in, in order to save ourselves. So
was every other ship as she reached and entered the same narrow passage.
But the men-of-war and other vessels which had got safely into the bay
soon sent their boats to the rescue, and all the soldiers and crew,
excepting about fifteen wretched men, women, and children who were
drowned in their hurry to jump on the rocks, were saved, but the ship
and nearly all the baggage and cargo were lost. I remember as we passed
the ill-fated ship seeing an officer’s wife standing and screaming on
the poop, her infant in her arms, and with no covering beyond her
nightdress; I heard afterwards that the child fell out of her arms and
was drowned, but she herself was saved. The survivors were encamped on
the beach for some days, and then were divided for a time amongst the
other transports, on which the whole fleet again returned to the Cove of
Cork to charter another vessel for the sufferers.
About a week after that we sailed once more for our destination. The
weather was fair and beautiful until we arrived off Funchal, in Madeira,
and thence we had a dead calm. Some of my brother-officers from another
ship came on board, and being, as we supposed, close in to the town, we
proposed after dinner to go on shore. We had a lieutenant of the navy as
agent of transport in charge of us. As he made no objection to our
landing (believing the calm would continue until the following morning)
our captain consented, and ordered two boats to be manned, so eight of
us started on the clear understanding that we should return by daylight
next morning. Our sailors, who were promised all sorts of drinks and
rewards, pulled most heartily, but the distance to the shore proved much
further than we expected, and a dark night overtook us; but still we
pushed on, and the brilliant lights in the town cheered us. At last we
reached the beach and found a heavy surf running in, and none of us knew
the proper place for landing; but the sailors, undaunted, assured us
there could be no danger, so one of the boats (not mine) took the lead,
and was no sooner in the surf than she was instantly upset and all her
passengers were seen struggling in the sea; but after a good ducking
they all got safe on shore, and also managed to secure their boat.
My sailors wanted to try the same risk, but I would not allow them.
Seeing a shore battery near us, we approached, and were challenged by a
Portuguese sentry, and answered, “English officers, who request to be
allowed to land.” This the sentry refused, and said his orders were to
allow no one to land. My knowledge of the language was now of some use
to me, and after talking to the sentry quietly and kindly and promising
him a dollar, the brave man suffered us at once to step on shore, and
showed us the way to the town. There we found our friends, still
dripping wet, but with some good wine before them. After refreshing
ourselves a little, we went to look after our boats and sailors, and
found all safe. We then gave them sufficient money to make them
comfortable, and urged them to leave one man at least as sentry over the
boats. This they promised to do, so we returned to our hotel, determined
to have our fun also. Soon after this the weather from a calm suddenly
changed to a strong wind and heavy rain, which continued to pour without
any change during the whole night. This damped our follies, but we were
up and at our boats before daylight next morning. These we found all
safe, but not a sailor to be seen anywhere; and when daylight appeared
not one of our ships was in sight. This was truly distressing and
alarming, but we had still hopes of seeing and overtaking our fleet, for
beyond the town, and in our course, a long promontory of land projected,
sufficient to conceal our ships from us, even if they were close behind
that obstruction.
Without further delay we searched for our sailors and eventually found
them, but in such a state and humour from drink that they positively
refused to go to their boats, or any farther with us, saying that we all
had been dry and enjoying ourselves, while they were left hungry and wet
watching the boats. All our coaxing and entreaties had no effect, and
they got worse and worse and even insolent. At last large promises of
grog and money when we should reach our ships made some impression on
the best of them, and after many more oaths and much grumbling, the
others at last consented to go with us, still believing our ships could
not be far beyond the distant point. Our next care was (having had no
breakfast) to get some cold meat and bread and a couple of kegs of good
wine. Our boats were then launched, and off we started with three
cheers. It took us two good hours to pull round the point; then came our
great fear and alarm, for although the wide ocean was then clear as far
as the eye could reach, only one solitary ship was to be seen, and that
nearly hull down, in our direct course. Here the sailors again declared
they would not go one yard farther. Much conversation and many arguments
followed, and for a time we did not know what to do. To go back to
Funchal would be our ruin, and risk perhaps our commissions; moreover,
all our money was gone, and as we were strangers we did not know where
to get more. At last great promises were renewed, and after another and
another tumbler of wine our mutinous crew consented to try to make the
ship in sight. Fortunately the weather was moderate, and we had a light
breeze in our favour; by good luck, also, we had a few empty bags in our
boats, which were intended to carry off some vegetables to our ships;
with these the sailors managed to rig out some sails fixed upon oars;
this assisted them very much in their pulling, yet with all their
struggling and endless swearing it was not till four in the afternoon
that we managed to reach the ship, which we hoped to be our own, but,
alas! we were again disappointed, for she proved to be an American
whaler; but we were received most kindly, and provided at once with a
good dinner.
From her deck another ship was in sight, about ten miles distant, which
the American captain assured us was one of our own convoy, and that he
had observed her all day, as our fleet went by, trying to remain as much
as possible behind, on the pretence of making repairs. This was
cheering, if we could but get our men to take again to their boats. At
last we prevailed, and off we started, the American captain giving us a
small cask of water and some rum to cheer us; and at seven o’clock that
evening, after a trying exposure and fatigue of eleven hours, we reached
the sail in sight (which proved to be our ship) in safety, thankful
indeed for our escape from the tremendous danger to which we had so
foolishly exposed ourselves. Had it come on to blow hard at such a
distance from the land, the chances were that we must have perished or
been starved to death from want of provisions. When we got on board our
fleet was just visible ahead from our decks, and it took us two days
under all sail to make up with them.
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