AT SEA IN THE EAST INDIAMEN
The first decade of the nineteenth century had been very unfortunate
for the East India Company. There had been the losses of those ships
already mentioned, owing to disasters at sea. This meant not only the
loss to the Company of the rich cargoes, but of the advances to the
owners amounting to thousands of pounds. The French war had also not
merely interfered with the coming and going of the merchant ships, but
it had thrown the whole of Europe into such a state of bewilderment
that commerce generally was paralysed, and therefore the trade in
Indian goods to the different parts of the Continent was exceedingly
curtailed. Notwithstanding all that had been done by the Act of 1796,
and the superintendence which was exercised over the Company, the
latter was anything but prosperous. It had been engaged in hostilities
with the Mahrattas and other Eastern powers. The result had been the
acquisition of vast territory which was shortly to be for the good of
the British Empire. But the immediate result of all this was that the
Company’s finances were in a crippled condition. Later on we shall
see what a wholesale effect the abolition of the monopoly had on the
Eastern trade, dating from the year 1813: but before we come to that
I desire to give the reader a fair account of the conditions of life
in the East Indiamen of the first part of the nineteenth century. We
shall presently proceed to examine these in greater detail, but it will
greatly assist the imagination if we look into contemporary accounts
left behind by officers who put to sea in these craft.
And first of all let us take the account of that Captain Eastwick
whom we introduced to the reader on an earlier page. This time he was
proceeding to India, not in his capacity of mercantile officer, but
as a passenger. Nevertheless his ripe knowledge and experience were
of the greatest value to these East Indiamen, as will be seen. It was
a tedious business in those days to get down to Portsmouth, where the
wealthier passengers used to join the East Indiamen. Eastwick was
taking out to India his sister-in-law on a visit to her brother-in-law,
Colonel Gordon. The journey was made to Portsmouth by road, of course,
and those who have motored along this Portsmouth road scarcely realise
how tedious and risky the journey was in those days. In the month of
January 1809 Eastwick and his sister-in-law set out on their journey
with a good deal of luggage and jewellery, as well as a hundred pounds
in money. They had to cross Hounslow Heath, which was then infested
with robbers, and there was every probability of the post-boys
being held up, the horses shot and the passengers relieved of their
possessions. However, in the present case the journey to Portsmouth was
made without adventure, where it was learnt that the _Neptune_ East
Indiaman would not sail for another ten days.
This was a vessel of 1200 charter tons, and one of the largest of the
East India Company’s fleet, being employed for the voyage to Bombay and
China, this being her sixth trip thereto. She was owned by Sir William
Fraser, Bart., and commanded by Captain William Donaldson, under whom
were a chief officer and three mates, a surgeon and a purser. After
the _Neptune_ and her fellow-ships of the Company’s fleet had at last
got under way a storm came up—the reader will remember that this year,
1809, was notorious for its virulent weather—and as a result the _Henry
Addington_, another East Indiaman of about the same size, got driven
to the eastward round Selsey Bill and struck the Bognor Rocks to the
north-eastward of the Bill, and it was only with difficulty that she
got off and reached Portsmouth again. This storm had dispersed the
whole of the Company’s fleet outward-bound, and the _Neptune_ had
found herself in the vicinity of the Channel Islands, where she was in
extreme danger. Captain Donaldson ordered the second mate to go aloft
and help to take in the foretopsail, but this the officer refused to
do, and he was instantly “broke.”
Eastwick thereupon volunteered to fill his place, and this offer was
gladly accepted temporarily, the _Neptune_ eventually sailing across
the English Channel once more and let go anchor on the Mother Bank
(to the west of Ryde, Isle of Wight). Here the ship was refitted for
a second attempt, and the second mate had his place now taken by a Mr
Richard Alsager, who had lately been M.P. for Surrey. At length the
_Neptune_ was ready for sea once more, the heavy weather had given way
to beautiful summer, and the wind was fair for making a quick passage
down the English Channel: so on 21st June the East India fleet weighed
anchor and proceeded, consisting of the _Neptune_, _Henry Addington_,
_Scaleby Castle_ and the _True Briton_. These ships were all pretty
much of the same size, though the _True Briton_ was of 1198 charter
tons. So fine did the weather continue that when the fleet was two days
out from England the captain of the _Neptune_ gave a dance on board to
the passengers of _all_ the ships, and the following evening another
dance was given by the captain of the _Henry Addington_. Fortunately
the passengers were safely rowed across the ocean to the entertaining
vessel, and back. But most people will agree with Eastwick’s criticism
of this foolish proceeding. “I did not consider it prudent at such a
season of the year to do these things at sea.”
So the voyage continued as far as Table Bay with everything in their
favour. After rounding the Cape, the _Neptune_, the _Scaleby Castle_
and the _True Briton_ shaped a course for Bombay, but the _Henry
Addington_ was compelled to stay behind in order to repair a bad leak
that had broken out afresh. This was doubtless a relic of the incident
on Bognor Rocks. Whilst approaching Madagascar Captain Donaldson
invited the other two captains to come on board and dine with him, and
during the conversation the subject came up of the disagreeable weather
met with during the south-west monsoon on going into Bombay. Eastwick
offered that if no pilot were available he would take the squadron in,
and this the three captains accepted. The next day they encountered
just that experience which the reader will remember occurred to some
of the first English sailors when bound to India. For a heavy clap of
thunder—“so loud it sounded as though a hundred great guns were going
off”—broke over the _Neptune_ and an extraordinary flash of lightning
took place, and so close that Eastwick declares he saw many electric
balls darting into the water. The chief officer was on watch at the
time, and came running aft. He announced that the ship had been struck
in the foremast and that the lightning had knocked down four of the
men. It took the crew afterwards sixteen hours to repair the damage,
get up the new foretopmast, foretopgallant mast and yard, for the
original ones had been rendered useless.
As the squadron approached Bombay they got into the south-west monsoon,
with very thick, dirty weather and a tremendous sea running. It was
when they were just a day’s sail off Bombay that the captain of the
_True Briton_, who was acting as commodore of the squadron, made the
signal: “Will Eastwick stand by his promise?” This was immediately
answered by the affirmative signal, and then the commodore ran up
another: “_Neptune_, go ahead, and lead the way.” So, although a
passenger, Eastwick had the honour of taking the squadron into Bombay
harbour and never picked up a pilot until ready to let go anchor.
But even more illuminating than Eastwick is a man named Thomas Addison,
who was born on 18th December 1785, and made a dozen voyages in the old
East Indiamen, entering the service as a midshipman of the _Marquis
Wellesley_ in February 1802, and eventually rising to fifth mate, and
so to first mate by May 1817. There are of course plenty of log-books
and journals still existing, but one has to wade through many pages
before one finds anything of real interest. In the case of Addison,
however, there is so much in his journals that reveals to us the life
and the incidents on board these old ships of the Company’s service
that we cannot feel other than grateful that the MS. still exists.
After his death these journals eventually passed into the hands of a
Norfolk rector, who was good enough to place them in the hands of the
Navy Records Society, and a few years ago they were edited by Sir John
Laughton and published under the auspices of that Society. It is to
this source that I am indebted for the information which is afforded by
Addison, though space will not allow of more than a brief outline of
his experiences.
He was able to obtain a berth in the Honourable Company’s “Maritime
Service” (as it was called, in contradistinction to the Company’s
Marine) owing to the influence of a Mr Edmund Antrobus, a teaman and
banker in the Strand. The latter took the sixteen-year-old youth and
introduced him to a Mr Matthew White, who was the managing owner of the
ship _Marquis of Wellesley_, by whom the midshipman’s appointment had
been granted. She was a vessel of 818 charter tons and was now about to
start on her second voyage to India, her commander being Captain Bruce
Mitchell. Mr White gave Addison a letter of introduction to the chief
officer, named Le Blanc, and after the boy had completed his sea-going
kit he was taken down to the ship at Gravesend by Mr Antrobus. Addison
was now handed over to his future messmates, and then began his
initiation. As so many of these old-time ceremonies have long since
passed away, it may not be out of place to say Addison was sent up
into the mizen top, outside the futtocks, where according to custom he
should have been seized up to the rigging by a couple of seamen, had he
not received the tip to promise them beforehand a gallon of beer. “In
lieu of which, by the by, five gallons was afterwards demanded of me by
my messmates, stating that the mizen top was their sole prerogative.
This is a very old usage practised on board all ships, considered a
fair claim from all strangers on first going aloft.”
In addition to the captain, there were the chief officer, three mates
and a large crew. In all there were thirty officers and petty officers,
the whole complement amounting to 151, which nowadays would be thought
enormous for a ship of her size. The men received two months’ wages
in advance before sailing, and in February 1802 made sail down the
Thames from Gravesend under the charge of one of the Company’s pilots,
who brought her safely into the Downs, where the wind was blowing
hard from the south-west, sending in a high sea. Addison was destined
at once to have excitement, for about sundown, whilst his Majesty’s
frigate _Egyptienne_ was coming to anchor in the Downs, she had
shortened sail and left herself too little way to shoot ahead of the
Indiaman, with the result that she fell broadside on to the _Marquis
Wellesley’s_ bows, tearing away the latter’s cutwater and bowsprit,
bringing down the foretopmast also, making in fact a clean sweep of
the ship forward. The merchantman was lying to a single anchor at the
time, but although it blew most of a gale during the night the ship
rode it out all right, and next morning, the weather having moderated,
the frigate’s commander sent some hands on board to give the ship
a temporary refit. After this the Indiaman proceeded to Portsmouth,
where she was fully repaired alongside a man-of-war hulk. On the 4th
of March she went out of harbour and anchored at Spithead, where she
took on board a number of his Majesty’s dragoons, as well as forty-nine
of the East India Company’s troops and their wives for India. The next
day, having received the Company’s packet from the India House and the
despatches for Bengal and Madras, she weighed anchor in the afternoon
and proceeded down Channel.
The last of old England was sighted the following day, and then anchors
were unbent and all harbour gear stowed away for the long voyage.
Madeira was sighted on the 14th of that month—not a bad passage for a
sailing ship—and on the 4th of April the Equator was passed, where the
usual ceremonies of crossing the line were undergone. “It being my own
and Newton’s [a young messmate’s] first trip into Neptune’s dominions,
we underwent the accustomed and awful ordeal of shaving by the hands
of his Majesty’s barber, thereby rendering us free mariners of the
ocean.” On 24th April they were off the Cape of Good Hope, and on 21st
June sighted Ceylon, and three days later arriving at Madras, “Found
Admiral Rainier’s squadron riding here, consisting of eight sail.
Shortly afterwards a sham fight took place with the fleet and shore,
followed by a grand illumination displayed from ships as well as the
shore, likewise fireworks and rockets, in commemoration of the Peace of
Amiens.”
The _Marquis Wellesley_ left Madras again in February 1803, after
visiting ports on the coast, and in July fell in with an American
bound from Gibraltar to Boston, and learned from her that war had
been declared between England and France, so cartridges were filled
and every preparation made on board the East Indiaman for defending
herself. On the nineteenth of that month a strange sail appeared. The
Indiaman made her private signal, but the stranger did not answer
and sailed away. But at midnight she returned and was coming up
fast, so the Indiaman at once prepared for action, Addison acting
as powder-monkey. But presently she was found to be H.M. frigate
_Endymion_, and sent a boat to the Indiaman in charge of a lieutenant
and pressed eight of the merchant ship’s men, for the frigate had
captured so many prizes that he had more prisoners on board than
all his ship’s company. But before the mouth of the English Channel
was reached the _Marquis Wellesley_ was to have further exciting
experiences. A few days after the previously mentioned incident, two
ships were descried one morning while the people were at breakfast. At
first Captain Mitchell bore up to assist one which was flying English
colours, but one of the passengers (apparently of the sea-lawyer type
which still survives) protested “against the legal propriety of such
proceeding on the part of an Indiaman volunteering her services in
such an affair,” so Mitchell put his ship again on her course, much to
the indignation of a choleric colonel, for the ship with the English
colours was subsequently captured.
Later on a large ship hove in sight on the weather bow and stood down
towards the _Marquis Wellesley_. It was now night and the latter at
once cleared for action and showed two tiers of lights. The stranger
was hailed seven times before it could be ascertained that she was
H.M.S. _Plantagenet_ with a sloop-of-war as tender in company. Her
captain came on board and complimented Captain Mitchell on the good
arrangements made for the defence of the ship, and as he walked round
the decks the men remained at quarters. He was good enough also to
compliment Mitchell on the clever manner in which he had manœuvred his
ship to prevent a raking broadside, but before leaving he “impressed a
few hands from us.”
On the 1st of August the Indiaman anchored in the Downs, and one of the
Company’s pilots came aboard and took charge of her, bringing with him
a number of “ticket-men” to work the ship up the Thames. These were men
who were sent from a man-of-war in place of such as had been impressed.
On the third of the month the ship had reached her moorings off the Gun
Wharf, Deptford, and four days later discharged the ship’s company and
hired gangs to deliver the cargo. And then came the final, dramatic
touch to this voyage: “Shortly afterwards found that Mr White, managing
owner of the _Marquis Wellesley_, had become bankrupt and was unable to
pay the ship’s company.”
Addison’s first voyage had thus begun and ended with adventures. He
had got back in the summer of 1803 and soon began to prepare for a
second voyage. Through the good offices of his friend Mr Antrobus he
once more obtained a berth as midshipman, this time in the _Brunswick_.
The latter was a ship of 1200 charter tons, and was about to make her
sixth voyage out to Ceylon and China. On being introduced to Captain
James Ludovic Grant, the latter made him senior midshipman and his
coxswain, as none of the other youngsters had yet been to sea. The
midshipmen were allowed a cabin, servant and every comfort, and though
Captain Grant was regarded as a martinet and disciplinarian, yet he was
by no means unpopular among Addison’s messmates, “supporting his mids
as officers and gentlemen.” “There were five of us; two were stationed
as signal midshipmen, as he was commodore; the other three in three
watches, one in each. I was in the latter; never allowed to quit the
lee side of the quarter-deck, except on duty or on general occasions
of reefing or furling. Two of us dined with him every day, and nothing
could exceed his politeness and kindness at table.”
Captain Grant had served as midshipman in the Royal Navy in the _Prince
George_ with the Duke of Clarence, who at the time we are speaking of
was now George III. Grant had reached the rank of lieutenant in the
navy, and was serving aboard a frigate in the West Indies in the year
1786. The captain died and then it was decided to continue the cruise,
Grant as first lieutenant, and a brother officer named Hugh Lindsay as
captain. However, when at length they reached England their conduct was
so badly criticised that they had to resign their commissions. Both
officers therefore did the next best thing and joined the East India
Company’s service, Grant being now commander of the _Brunswick_, whilst
Lindsay had the _Lady Jane Dundas_, a vessel of 820 tons.
During the month of February, then, the _Brunswick_, having taken
on board her cargo and stores, dropped down the Thames to the Lower
Hope, where she received on board passengers and the remainder of
her crew, who received their usual advance. Colonel Hatton and staff
of the King’s 66th Regiment came on board, together with about 350
privates: and a little later the ship sailed to Portsmouth. Here she
remained till the 20th of March, when she came out of harbour and ran
across to the Motherbank, where she anchored. Here the whole fleet
of East Indiamen, together with their naval convoy, were assembled.
This consisted of nine ships—his Majesty’s frigate _Lapwing_, and the
Company’s ships _Brunswick_, _Marquis of Ely_, Addison’s former ship
the _Marquis of Wellesley_, the _Lady Jane Dundas_ (Captain Hon. Hugh
Lindsay, Grant’s old shipmate), the _Marchioness of Exeter_, the _Lord
Nelson_, the _Princess Charlotte_ and the _Canton_. The captain of the
_Marquis Wellesley_ was now Charles Le Blanc, who had been “chief” when
Addison first went to sea.
It must have been a magnificent sight to have witnessed this fine fleet
getting under way and setting their canvas that afternoon at a signal
from the frigate. Under close-reefed topsails they ran down the Solent
and past the Needles with a fresh breeze from north by east. Four and a
half hours after leaving the Motherbank they had dropped their pilot in
the English Channel, and by eleven that night they were nine miles off
the Portland lights, with a gale working up and thick, hazy weather.
This caused the fleet to be scattered and topsails were taken in, but
towards morning the weather moderated. Getting into the north-east
trade-wind the _Brunswick_ soon reeled off the miles, though the units
of the fleet were still much dispersed, thus making it much easier for
the enemy to inflict injury if met with.
On the 7th of April Addison has this entry in his journal:—
“Trimmed ship by the head with 200 pigs of lead. The missing ships
rejoined the convoy with two whalers. On a Saturday (weather
permitting) constantly exercised great guns, and small arms frequently,
with powder blank cartridges. My station at quarters was aide-de-camp
to the captain.”
And then there are several instances of the way discipline was
maintained on board in those days of flogging:—
“9th. John McDonald, seaman, was punished with a dozen for insolence to
the boatswain....
“12th. Punished T. Botler, seaman, with a dozen for neglect, etc.”
[Illustration: A VIEW OF THE EAST INDIA DOCKS AS THEY APPEARED IN THE
EARLY NINETEENTH CENTURY.
(By courtesy of Messrs. T. H. Parker Brothers)]
On the following day the frigate parted company with the fleet
to return to England, so the _Brunswick_ became commodore ship.
On the 23rd of June the squadron was in the Mozambique Passage,
and at daylight espied a strange brig to the south-east. Sail was
therefore made, the _Lord Nelson_ having been signalled to chase
with the _Brunswick_, and the _Dundas_ to lead the fleet on a
north-east-by-north course. At 7 A.M. the brig tacked, and
half-an-hour later the _Brunswick_ also tacked. At eight o’clock
Grant ordered his squadron to heave-to, and at noon was coming up
fast with the brig. Half-an-hour later he had reached her and found
her to be the French _La Charlotte_ of four guns and twenty-nine men.
She had left the Isle de France twenty-eight days previously and
was bound for the Mozambique. She was now a prisoner, and Commodore
Grant accordingly sent on board the _Brunswick’s_ second officer, Mr
Benjamin Bunn, Addison, five seamen and twenty soldiers in the cutter
to take possession of her. Her captain, a lieutenant, a midshipman and
ten seamen were brought off to the _Brunswick_, and at three in the
afternoon the brig was taken in tow, but two hours later she was cast
off. Eventually, after the captains of the other English ships had come
aboard and joined in a consultation, Grant decided that the prize was
not worth keeping. So all her cargo of muskets were thrown into the
sea, and afterwards she was handed over again to her French captain,
who went aboard her with his men, very thankful to be allowed to take
possession once more.
About the middle of June the East Indiamen reached Trincomalee and
saluted H.M.S. _Centurion_ with eleven guns, which respect was
returned. But it is typical of the time that the following day a
lieutenant came off from the _Centurion_ and pressed ten of the
Indiamen’s men, and a little later three more seamen deserted and
joined H.M.S. _Sheerness_. Having disembarked the troops and baggage,
assisted by the boats of his Majesty’s ships, the _Brunswick_ once
more put to sea, and two days later brought up in Madras Roads, where
she saluted the fort with nine guns, and received a similar salute in
return. Here also a lieutenant from H.M.S. _Wilhelmina_ came aboard
and pressed four more men. Here the _Brunswick_ remained some weeks,
landing the Company’s cargo, taking on board cotton and other goods for
Captain Grant’s own account—on a later page the reader will learn how
much cargo a captain was allowed to ship for himself—and after the
vessel’s rigging had been refitted, and her hull painted, she prepared
for sea.
Meanwhile the Company’s ships which had come out with her bound for
Bengal had sailed to the north, but on the 13th of August H.M. frigate
_Caroline_, which was now to convoy the East Indiamen bound for China,
made the signal for the fleet to unmoor, and then proceeded on the
voyage. The fleet went through the Singapore Straits, the convoy being
kept in close order of sailing as Admiral Linois was known to be
cruising in the China Sea. It was now September, and the reader will
recollect that in February of that year his squadron had been put to
flight by Commodore Dance. The East India squadron now consisted of the
Company’s ships _Brunswick_, _Glatton_, _Cirencester_, _Walmer Castle_,
_Marquis of Ely_, _Thames_, _Canton_, _Winchelsea_, ten country ships,
and convoyed by five of his Majesty’s ships—the _Caroline_, _Grampus_,
_La Dédaigneuse_, _Russell_ and _Dasher_, the first-mentioned being the
commodore’s ship.
Arrived at the mouth of the Tiger, permission was obtained from two
mandarins to pass, as was the custom in those days when China was
still so little open to the European. And the way the fleet was able
to navigate the river by night at the last quarter of the flood is
most interesting. Two Chinese pilots had been taken on board the
_Brunswick_, and in order to denote the channel across the bar by
night a row of fifty boats with lights was placed on one side, and
another fifty on the other, the ship of course to sail between. When
the _Brunswick_ was about in mid-channel one of the pilots sang out
“port littee,” while the other contradicted him by shouting “starboard
littee.” Captain Grant was not the man to be humbugged in this manner,
so he kicked one of these men overboard, and the other immediately
jumped after. The lights were at once put out and the _Brunswick_
grounded on the bar. The tide soon began to fall, and in spite of
carrying out a kedge she refused to budge. So the top-gallant yards
and masts were sent down, the guns were put into the launches which
were sent by the other ships of the fleet, and eventually next day the
_Brunswick_ was floated at high water, but at once swung round and took
the ground again, and the tide ebbed out.
In order to lighten her forward, the bower anchors were made fast
between boats, and the stream anchor was taken out in the launch
ready for the next flood, and with the last quarter of that tide she
came off; the hawsers were slipped, and while the anchors were being
recovered Captain Grant backed and filled across the channel and
finally came to anchor again.
Addison tells us of an interesting custom in the Company’s service at
that time. For each season the senior captain was allowed £500 “table
money,” as we should call it, for public dinners and various expenses,
the second captain in seniority being allowed £300 for the same
purposes. The ships took their turn to act as guardship, naval fashion,
and whichever ship’s turn it was so to act on a Sunday, the captain
was to attend on board together with his surgeon. And during the whole
day, up till eight o’clock in the evening, one of his sworn officers
was to row guard up and down the fleet, after which he was to make his
report to the senior ship. But when the viceroy and the leading Chinese
authorities made their visits to these English ships in state they
were received with great ceremony, which is curiously absent from the
modern merchant ship.
Many hundred local craft would put off to the East Indiamen. The
English captains were on board to receive them, the yards were manned
and every possible display was made. An officer was first sent in full
uniform to compliment the great man—John Tuck, as the English sailor
nicknamed him, owing to the fact that in the fore end of his boat he
kept gallows to tuck up any unfortunate who displeased him. Having come
alongside the East Indiaman, the great man always refused to trust his
valuable life to the ropes and accommodations supplied for entering the
ship, but used his own long ladders. Business was duly contracted, and
then he would make a present to the ship’s company of bullocks, flour,
fruit and a vile, maddening spirit of a most intoxicating nature, which
the men were made to exchange for something better. After this the
captains all dined together on board a large chop boat.
The fleet remained here from October till the first day of 1805, and
then got under way with fine cargoes of teas for England. But the
_Brunswick_ never reached England. Doubtless owing to the damage
sustained when she got aground on the bar she developed a serious leak,
and made for Ceylon and Bombay, where she was docked and repaired, her
tea being sent to England in another ship. The _Brunswick_ was now sent
back to China again with a cargo of cotton, which would have been a
very lucrative affair. But there was a good deal of trouble with the
crew, many of the men deserting to the warships, until at last Captain
Grant sent every man he had in the launch on board a British frigate.
The latter’s captain selected from these all that were worth having and
then sent the rest back to the _Brunswick_.
When the latter set sail from Bombay for China on 1st July 1805 she was
very ill-manned, consequent on nearly the whole of the ship’s company
having been pressed by the navy. There were not twenty European seamen
on board to work this big ship. The guns had to be manned by Chinamen,
with only one European seaman at each. For the rest lascars had to be
relied upon. In such a weak condition she put to sea, together with
a couple of country ships, keeping as near each other as possible.
But a few days later at break of day two strange sail were discovered
to the eastward. The _Sarah_ made a signal that the strangers looked
suspicious. Later on the _Brunswick_ perceived that one was a
line-of-battle ship and the other a frigate. But the _Sarah_ signalled
that she thought they were friends. However, the _Brunswick_ was much
less credulous and had already cleared for action, hoisting her private
signal (which was not answered) and hoisting her British colours.
The stranger presently answered by showing St George’s colours. The
line-of-battle ship then tacked in order to get into such a position
as to rake the _Brunswick_ from aft. The frigate passed to leeward
and exchanged St George’s colours for the French national colours,
giving the _Brunswick_ a broadside as she passed. This was immediately
returned, but as the ship was heeling over at a great angle, the lee
guns could not be elevated sufficiently to do any damage to the enemy.
But the _Brunswick_ was clearly to be out-manœuvred. The frigate went
about just astern of the Indiaman, and as she was then observed to
be coming on fast, Captain Grant kept his ship as full as possible,
hoping to be able to run her ashore. The frigate, however, approached
at such a pace, and the line-of-battle ship was also so close that
the _Brunswick_ would assuredly have been sunk by the line-of-battle
ship’s broadside before taking the ground. After consultation with his
officers Grant was reluctantly compelled to strike his colours and
surrender to the enemy off the coast of Ceylon. A boat came off—and
then, well the line-of-battle ship was none other than Admiral Linois’
_Marengo_, and the big frigate was the _Belle Poule_, which had fought
and run away the previous year from Commodore Dance. Linois was
stationed in those Eastern waters for the express purpose of harassing
and cutting up our trade, avoiding the British ships-of-war. Any modern
strategist would tell you that whilst this kind of hostility is very
annoying to the power attacked, it cannot afford any lasting good. The
same kind of folly was attempted, you will remember, by the Russians
interfering with Japanese merchantmen in the East during the late war,
and the practical value of this measure was nil.
However, Linois may have remembered that he who fights and runs away
will live to fight another day. He had been compelled to fly before
Dance, but this time he got his revenge. You may ask what England was
doing to leave those seas unpoliced. The answer is that as a matter
of fact Indiamen had to rely on naval convoys when they could be got,
and Rear-Admiral Sir Thomas Troubridge, who had been one of Nelson’s
captains at the Battle of the Nile, was actually escorting, in H.M.S.
_Blenheim_, eleven more Indiamen. The two courses were converging and
presently we shall see them meet.
Needless to say, it was with great grief that Captain Grant, all his
officers and midshipmen (excepting the chief officer and surgeon) were
put on board the _Marengo_, whilst the frigate went in pursuit of the
_Sarah_. The latter, however, ran herself ashore with all sail set,
but the crew were saved. Admiral Linois received Captain Grant with
every courtesy, and the _Brunswick_ was ordered to a rendezvous nearer
the Cape of Good Hope. Before the month was out, when a fog which had
settled down lifted for a while, the _Marengo_ suddenly found herself
close to a large convoy of Indiamen. The former instantly cleared for
action and firing began. It was Troubridge with his convoy! But nothing
much came of this, and the contending forces separated during the
night. To cut the story short, Addison and his shipmates were landed
in South Africa, whence they were taken to St Helena by an American
brig. From there they reached England in a British frigate, landing
at Spithead, and so making their way to London. As for the poor old
_Brunswick_, she drove ashore on the South African coast, and so ended
her days.
[Illustration: THE “THAMES,” EAST INDIAMAN, 1,424 TONS.
This was one of the finest vessels employed in the East Indian trade.]
If Addison had been unfortunate in the ending of his first voyage, so
in this he was again unlucky. “According to the Company’s law,” he
writes in his journal, “having been captured by an enemy, or the ship
in any way wrecked or destroyed, the captain, officers and crew forfeit
their pay and wages, consequently we have no claim upon the owners of
the late _Brunswick_ for at least twenty months’ hard duty on board of
her.” However, he was now wedded to the sea, and the next time he went
in his first ship, the _Marquis Wellesley_, as fifth mate, with Charles
Le Blanc as captain, and in her he served during the following years
till he went as second mate in another of the Company’s ships. I make
no apology to the reader for giving so much detail in this connection,
for Addison’s and Eastwick’s accounts tell us just those intimate
details which show the risks of many sorts which had to be encountered
in the old days when the sailing ship was still far from perfect, and
those handsome, fast China tea-clippers had not yet come into being
to startle the world with their record runs. No doubt the captains of
these East Indiamen of which we are speaking were often hated by their
men for their severity: but those were no kid-glove days, and a voyage
was not a thing of certainty as with the modern liner, which maintains
a punctuality almost equal to that of a passenger train. If a captain
retired after a few voyages with a nice little fortune, he certainly
deserved it. For he was a long time before he reached a command, and
there was scarcely a day during the whole of those long voyages when he
was not plunged into some sort of anxiety. Anything might happen; from
having his sails blown out of his ship and carrying away his best spars
to losing the ship herself, her cargo, her men. Every force seemed to
be up against him—gales of wind, uncharted seas, coasts and rivers,
privateers, warships of the enemy: even the warships of his own country
snatched out of his vessel his best men. And then, to add insult to
injury, he came home to find either his managing owners gone bankrupt
or a by-law which prevented him from receiving his hard-earned pay.
Yes, taking it by and large, he deserved his good luck when it came
his way; but when it was absent, he did his best and more for the
British capitalist and merchant princes than the latter ever cared to
acknowledge. In the history of Eastern development and civilisation
the shipmaster of these old Indiamen ought to occupy a high place of
respect and admiration. He has left behind a magnificent example for
his successors to follow.
When a passenger in the olden days joined an East Indiaman as she
lay in the Downs he had to be rowed off by one of the Deal boatmen.
These “sharks” often made a fine thing out of such passengers, for the
latter were completely at the mercy of the former. In calm weather
the boatman was willing to row the passenger aboard for the sum of
five shillings (or more if he could get it). But in the case of dirty
weather and the nasty lop which gets up here with onshore winds the
passenger had to pay as much as three guineas and sometimes even five:
it was all a question of bargaining between himself and the boatman.
Inasmuch as the passenger had to get aboard the big ship at all costs,
and since the only method possible was to employ one of these Deal
boatmen, the competition was solely between the boatmen themselves.
But these fellows were so closely bound together, owing to the ties of
relationship and their co-operation in extensive smuggling, that the
passenger could scarcely help being fleeced.
Having at last arrived on board, weary of his coach drive from
London, drenched with the sea-spray scooped up by the Deal galley,
the passenger bound for India in those days set forth with not the
light heart and eagerness with which the modern traveller embarks on
an East-bound liner. If contemporary accounts are to be trusted, the
mere anticipation was a kind of terrible nightmare. The passenger
often enough would retire at once to his cot, and remain there for
days prostrate with sea-sickness. The cuddy would not see him at meals
until the Bay of Biscay had been passed and finer, warmer weather
encountered. Some of the Company’s cadets bound out to enter this
corporation’s Indian army were utter scamps, and the only way to get
them out of their cots was to cut the lanyards which kept the latter
up. Before they had reached the Equator they had begun to find their
sea-legs, and they were compelled to take part in the usual ceremonies
of crossing the line. In the accompanying illustration will be found
one of these young gentlemen undergoing this initiation in one of the
East Indiamen ships.
These ships, because of their bad lines and clumsy proportions, could
scarcely rely on keeping up an average of more than three or four
knots an hour, and their performances when compared with the voyages
of the celebrated clippers in the mid-nineteenth century show the
essential difference in the capabilities of the old and the new types
respectively. Let the following table show how slow the old-time craft
were. The reference is to an East Indiaman which left the Thames in
1746, and after voyaging to the East arrived off Scotland in 1748:—
Left England, September 20, 1746.
Arrived at St Helena, December 25, 1746.
Left St Helena, January 14, 1747.
Arrived at Batavia, April 19, 1747.
Left Batavia, June 9, 1747.
Arrived in China, July 8, 1747.
Left China, January 12, 1748.
Arrived at St Helena, April 4, 1748.
Left St Helena, April 25, 1748.
Arrived off Scotland, July 9, 1748.
Even one of the Company’s own ships—the _Thames_—which was not as
fast as the China clippers presently to be started by private firms,
performed the voyage between Canton and England in 115 days a little
time before the East India Company lost their China monopoly. This
vessel left Canton on 18th November 1831, arrived at St Helena on 28th
January 1832, and was in the English Channel on the following 13th
March.
An anonymous writer who flourished about the middle of the eighteenth
century, on whose authority the details of the length of voyages have
been given above, has left us a detailed account of a voyage to the
East Indies about this time. I need not try the patience of the reader
by following the entire journey, but it will suffice if we, so to
speak, voyage with this traveller from England as far as St Helena. The
account, which is written with great restraint, leaves the reader every
opportunity to imagine the discomforts and trepidations which were the
essential conditions of the long journey to the Orient in those days.
“On Thursday the 30th of July 1746, I set out from London for
Gravesend, where I was agreeably entertained to see a great number of
people on board the vessel, in which I was appointed to go to the East
Indies, and the vast preparations, and quantities of provisions, on
board, to supply the necessities of so long a voyage.
“Next day several young people came on board, inlisted to go in the
service of the East India Company, where they were to remain for the
space of five years at least....
“On the 2d of August we weighed anchor, passed the Nore, saluted the
_Royal Sovereign_ with nine guns, and came to an anchor in the Downs
on the 3d. As the wind was variable, we were obliged to come to an
anchor every now and then. On the 5th, at night, we passed Dungeness
lighthouse, and, on the 8th, anchored in St Helen’s road [Isle of
Wight].
“On the 10th we received on board our treasure from Portsmouth, and,
among the rest, a fine large stone-horse, designed as a present from
the Company to the Sultan of Benjar, an Indian Prince on the island of
Borneo. After taking in more fresh provisions, we weighed anchor, and
made the best of our way towards Plymouth. On the 29th we came to an
anchor in Cawson [Cawsand] Bay, where, not caring to break upon our
store, we sent our long-boat ashore for fresh water. Here we were to
wait for a convoy. We were supplied at this place with plenty of bread,
fish, etc., in small boats, rowed by a parcel of the stoutest and most
masculine women I ever saw.
“On the 5th of September we had very thick weather, with hard gales
of wind from S.W. so that we were obliged to lower our fore and main
yards, and give great scope of cable, and even to strike our topmasts.
“On the 6th in the morning the weather abated; but, in the evening of
that day, it blowed very hard. We heard the _Norfolk_ fire several guns
as signals of distress. She had parted her cable, and had run adrift
before it was discovered: and she was obliged to anchor within the
beacon, on the east side of the Sound, in foul and rocky ground. But,
by the assistance of some of the men of war, she was again brought to
an anchor in Cawson Bay.
“From the 7th to the 16th we were employed in putting everything in
order aboard, and, on the 17th, the _Mermaid_ man of war was appointed
our convoy, and gave a signal for unmooring the same night.
“On Sunday the 20th of September we got under sail, the wind at NNE.
When at sea, we cleared our ship fore and aft, and exercised our great
guns and small arms....
“On the 27th we parted with our convoy, and made the best of our way
for the island of St Helena, for which we had several stores on board.”
And so they proceeded on their journey to the south. On 9th October,
when in lat. 37° 32´ N., and long. 22° 16´, “we were now beginning to
feel the hot climate, so that the allowance of water, with the greatest
economy, was little enough to quench thirst. We put an awning on the
quarter-deck, to keep off the scorching heat of the sun.”
As to the kind of shipmates this traveller had, the following statement
is sufficiently illustrative:—
“We could hardly put a stop to the frequent thefts that were committed
by the soldiers, though every day one or two of them were tied to the
shrouds, and severely whipt. It is indeed the less to be wondered at,
as these wretches, who go as soldiers in the company’s service, are
for the most part the scum of the three kingdoms, and generally go to
India to screen themselves from justice at home. By their laziness and
inactivity, they were over-run with vermine, and began to complain of
swellings in their legs, soreness in their bones, and other symptoms
of the scurvy. To prevent their infecting the ship’s company, they
were brought up on deck, put into a large vessel of hot water, brushed
with scrubbing brushes, and all their clothes and bedding thrown
over-board....
“On the 2d of December, we had a large swelling sea, with easterly
winds. At five in the morning we were surprised with a large
waterspout, within three ships-length of our starboard-side. It had
no sooner passed our ship, than a sudden puff of wind laid us gunwale
to, which was over before we could lower our sails. We had frequent
dewfalls in the night, which are very dangerous, and often mortal, if
they happen to rest on the naked breast or body of a man, while asleep
on the deck. A great deal of our salted pork was so rotten, that we
threw several casks of it over-board.
“On the 17th, had cloudy weather, employed our cooper to set up all the
water-casks, which we had knocked down as soon as they were empty, for
the sake of room.
[Illustration: THE “WINDHAM,” EAST INDIAMAN, WITH THE FLEET SAILING
FROM ST. HELENA UNDER CONVOY OF HIS MAJESTY’S SHIP “MONMOUTH.”
(By courtesy of Messrs. T. H. Parker Brothers)]
“The 22d, we kept a good look-out for St Helena, and found ourselves to
be in Lat. 16° 6´, and, on the 23d, we observed several pigeons flying
about the ship, a sure indication that we were near land.” This island
they eventually sighted the following morning, and arriving off the
fort saluted the Governor with nine guns, everyone in the ship being
heartily relieved to see land once more. It should be recollected
of course that St Helena had long been in the possession of the East
India Company, and its geographical position was of great convenience
to the ships bound to or from the Orient, giving opportunities for
obtaining fresh supplies and drinking water. The illustration which is
here reproduced shows the appearance of St Helena at the time of which
we are speaking, together with a contemporary East Indiaman lying at
anchor.
Such, then, is the kind of life which had to be endured on board
these vessels, depicted as we have shown by men of entirely different
interests and tastes—the captain, the midshipman and the passenger.
But if these voyages were unpleasant and even risky, it is to them and
the determination of those on board that the wealth of the East India
Company was due, and the fortunes of so many private individuals as
well. Ocean travel in those days was not pleasure, but a long-drawn-out
martyrdom, except for a very few and in exceptional weather. To-day,
even the worst-appointed liner would seem luxurious to the voyager
of the eighteenth century, although more comfortable deep-sea ships
were not to be found than those which flew the naval pennant of the
Honourable East India Company.