RETURN TO ENGLAND.
Sail for England with despatches—A lunar rainbow—A two-tailed
fish—Reach Falmouth after passage of fifteen days—To Plymouth to
refit—All leave refused—Sailors’ frolics ashore—To sea
again—Cruise off French coast and Channel Islands—Run aground off
Guernsey—Return to Plymouth to repair damages—Rejoin fleet—French
fleet escapes into Brest—Return to Plymouth to refit for foreign
service—Transhipped to H.M.S. _Hannibal_—Description of the ship’s
officers—Tricks played on the Irish chaplain.
On the 14th of April, 1794, we were ordered to receive on board a superior
officer of the Navy and Army with the despatches for England, also several
wounded officers and the colours taken from the forts and churches. In the
evening we saluted the admiral and left the bay for England.
On our passage, during a middle watch, I beheld a splendid and most
perfect lunar rainbow. It extended from the stern of the frigate to some
considerable distance. These bows are generally more distinct than the
solar, owing to the glare of light not being so great.
We were followed for some days by a fish with two regular tails. It was
about three feet long, of a bluish colour, and shaped like a salmon. We
endeavoured by every possible stratagem to take it, but it was either too
shy or too cunning to be caught. Fifteen days after quitting Martinique we
anchored at Falmouth. The officers in charge of the despatches left the
ship to proceed to London.
After having taken on board water and refreshments we repaired to
Plymouth, ran into Hamoaze, lashed alongside a receiving hulk, unrigged
and got the guns and stores out, and were afterwards taken into dock to
have the copper cleaned and repaired.
Now, reader, I hope you will not think me unreasonable when I make known
to you that I wished to see my mother, but I might as well have asked for
a captain’s commission. The time was too precious, and we were of too much
use to be spared to see our mammas, so the second lieutenant said, and
that was a sufficient damper. He had his wife in snug lodgings at Dock; he
neither felt for us nor our mammas, so one of the youngsters remarked.
Whilst the frigate is refitting, I will describe some of our sailors’
frolics on shore. Returning one afternoon from Plymouth, I met two hackney
coaches driving very rapidly. The first of them contained one of our
boatswain’s mates and the coxswain of the launch with their delicate
ladies. On the roof was another of our men playing the fiddle. I expected
to see him fall off every moment, but, like a true sailor, he had learnt
to hold fast. The second coach contained the men’s hats and their ladies’
bonnets. As they were not allowed to go farther than Plymouth, they had
been driving from Dock to that place and back again for the last two
hours. On their coming on board they brought with them the sign of
Whittington’s cat, which belonged to the public-house in North Corner
Street, where they had dined. They gave the landlord fourteen shillings
for it, and two days after gave it to him back for nothing. On another
occasion twelve of them took six coaches, into which they stowed with
their ladies, to drive backwards and forwards from Plymouth to Dock six
times. The sternmost to pay for a dinner, of which the whole were to
partake, each kept bribing the coachman to go faster; the consequence was
that the money they gave for this task amounted to more than the hire of
the vehicles. When they made their appearance on board they were decorated
with shawls tied round them like scarfs, and three of them had portraits
of their females as large as an ordinary picture fastened round their
necks with a piece of a bell rope.
I prithee, reader, censure them not too harshly. Sailors possess shades
like other men; but when you reflect that they are on board their ships
for months in an open sea, exposed to all weather, privation, and
hardship, which they bear with philosophic patience, you will agree with
most people and admit that they deserve indulgence when they get on shore;
but you may wish for their sakes that they knew the value of money better.
You cannot change the Ethiopian’s skin without boiling him in pitch, which
you know is a dangerous experiment. Sailors seldom arrive at the age of
reflection until they are past the meridian of life, and when it is almost
too late to lay by anything considerable to make them comfortable in their
old age.
I have known a boatswain’s mate who a few months after he had joined the
ship received about twenty pounds. One of his messmates asked him to lend
him a few shillings. “That I will, my hearty,” was his generous reply;
“here’s a fist full for you. Pay me a fist full when you are able.” The
master at arms who observed the action desired the borrower to count it;
it amounted to twenty-nine shillings.
The frigate now came out of dock and warped alongside the hulk, and in
five days she was ready for sea. On the seventh day we sailed to cruise
off Cherbourg, and to join a squadron of frigates under Captain Saumerez.
The enemy had three large class frigates fitting out at Havre de Grace and
two others at Cherbourg. Our squadron consisted of five frigates and a
lugger.
At this period, 1794, Cherbourg, although a strong place, was nearly an
open roadstead, and we frequently stood in so close as to oblige the outer
vessels at anchor to run farther in.
Having cruised along the French coast for five weeks watching the progress
of the enemy’s frigates, which appeared very slow, we, in carrying sail
after a small vessel, sprung our fore and mizzen top-masts, and were
ordered to Guernsey, where we shortly after anchored in Castle Cornet
roads. Whilst we remained here some of the mids and myself had permission
to go on shore. After rambling about the town without meeting with any
object worth attention, we crossed over to some small, rocky islands, and
having two fowling-pieces with us we shot four large rabbits; their hair
was very soft and long. The inhabitants, who are neither English nor
French, but speak both languages in a corrupt manner, fabricate gloves and
socks from the fur of these animals. I bought two pairs of the former, but
they did not last long; the hair constantly came out on my clothes, and
when once they are wet they become useless.
On the fifth day after quitting the squadron we rejoined them in Cancale
Bay. At daylight next morning our signal was made to chase an enemy’s
lugger in shore. We were gaining rapidly on her when she ran in between
some rocks; we then prepared the boats to attack and bring her out, but as
we stood in for that purpose we found the water suddenly shoal, and a
battery we had not perceived opened its fire on us. We were obliged to
haul off, but not before we had fired several shot at both lugger and
battery. The latter again fired and knocked away our mizzen top-gallant
mast. We bore up and gave it a broadside, and could see pieces of rock
near it fly in all directions. The signal was made to recall us, and soon
after we rejoined the squadron. For more than two months had we been
tantalized by cruising in this monotonous manner, with little hope of the
sailing of the frigates we were blockading, when the commodore ordered
another frigate, ourselves, and the lugger to Guernsey to refit and
procure live bullocks. Having got on board what we wanted, we made sail
out of the harbour through the Little Vessel passage; the pilot, thinking
the tide higher than it was, bumped the frigate on shore on the rock of
that name. She struck violently, but soon floated off as the tide was
flooding. On sounding the well we found she was making water rapidly. The
pumps were soon at work, but as the leak gained on us, we made the signal
of distress and want of assistance. It was soon answered by the frigate
and lugger, who came within hail. We requested them to see us as far as
Plymouth, as we could not keep the sea in consequence of our mishap.
Fortunately the wind was in our favour, and we reached Plymouth Sound in
the afternoon, ran into Hamoaze the same evening, lashed alongside a
receiving ship and had a party of men to assist at the pumps.
At daylight we got out the guns and the heavy stores, and the ship into
dock. On examining her, it was found that part of the main keel and bottom
were so much injured that it would be a fortnight before the repairs could
be finished. In three weeks we were ready for sea, and were ordered to
join a squadron of nine sail of the line, under the command of
Rear-Admiral Montague. We sailed with the intention of joining the Channel
fleet under Lord Howe, but were much mortified on receiving intelligence
from a frigate we spoke that the action between the English and French
fleets had taken place on the 1st of June, and that the latter were
defeated with considerable loss. In the sanguine hope of meeting with some
of the enemy’s lame ducks, we made all sail for Brest water. The next
morning we saw the Island of Ushant, and soon after eight sail of the
enemy’s line of battle ships and five large frigates. They were about
three leagues on our weather beam. We made all sail in chase of them, but
they being so near Brest, and in the wind’s eye of us, we only neared them
sufficiently to exchange a few shots. In the evening they anchored in
Brest roads. On this mortifying occasion there was a grand cockpit
meeting, when the middies declared the French were a set of cowardly,
sneaking rascals. “Let me,” said one of the youngest amongst them,
“command a squadron of eight sail of the line against ten of the enemy, I
would soon take the gloss off their sides, and show them the way into
Portsmouth harbour.”
On the afternoon of the following day we fell in with the defeated enemy’s
fleet which had escaped Lord Howe. They, unfortunately, were to windward
of us standing for Brest, but the nearest of them was not more than two
leagues distant. We made all possible sail to get between them and the
land. Fourteen sail of their effective ships of the line perceiving our
intention took their stations between us and their disabled vessels.
Towards sunset we exchanged some shot with the nearest without effect.
The night was now setting in with dark, squally weather from the W.S.W.,
when we reluctantly gave up the chase. I will not shock my reader’s ears
with what the mids said on this occasion. Suffice it to say, that they
offered up their prayers most heartily: in this, they, like obedient young
officers, only followed the example of their gallant captain and most of
the lieutenants.
Six weeks after remaining with this squadron we were ordered to Plymouth
to fit for foreign service. The captain went on shore, and we did not see
him until his return from London with a commission in his pocket to
command a seventy-four-gun ship, into which, shortly after, we were all
turned over. We regretted leaving the frigate, for although she was one of
the small class, we were much attached to her. Not one of us mids had ever
served in a larger vessel than a frigate. On board this large ship we were
for some days puzzled to find out each other, and for the first time in
our lives we messed and slept by candle-light. In a few days we received
on board four additional lieutenants, six mids, a captain of marines, a
chaplain, schoolmaster, and two hundred more men, besides forty marines.
As my former messmate, the gunner of the frigate, did not join this ship,
I had to find another mess. One of the master’s mates asked me if I would
join him and six other midshipmen, which I did. Our berth, or the place
where we messed, was on the orlop deck, designated by the name of cockpit,
where open daylight is almost as unknown as in one of the mines of
Cornwall. The mids’ farthing candles and the sentinel’s dark, dismal, not
very clean lanthorn just made a little more than darkness visible. When
the biscuits are manned, that is, infested by “bargemen,” they may be
swallowed in this dark hole by wholesale, as it is next to an
impossibility to detect them, except they quit their stow-holes and crawl
out, and when they do, which is but seldom, they are made to run a race
for a trifling wager. On the home station bargemen are scarcely known; it
is only in warm climates where they abound. Another most destructive
insect to the biscuit is the weevil, called by the mids purser’s l——e.
While walking down Fore Street one morning with one of my messmates we
came up with two well-dressed females, when he exclaimed, “By Job! what a
well-built little frigate she is to the left! How well she carries her
maintop-gallant sail! What a neat counter, and how well formed between the
yardarms! I’ll heave ahead and have a look at her bow chasers, head rails,
and cut heads, for I think I have seen her before somewhere. You,” said he
to me, “can take the one on the starboard hand.” He then let go my arm and
shot ahead. He had no sooner done so than the youngest of them exclaimed,
“Why, my dear George, is that you?” “Yes,” he replied, “my dear Emily, and
my dear mother, too; this is, indeed, taking me aback by an agreeable
surprise. How long have you been here?” They were his mother and only
sister, who had arrived that morning and were going to the Admiral’s
office to gain information respecting the ship to which he belonged. His
mother was a genteel woman, to whom he introduced me; but what shall I say
of his sister! She won my heart at first sight. She was a beautiful,
delicate girl of about nineteen. Her figure haunted me for months
afterwards. They were at the “Fountain,” and intended staying there until
we sailed. “You will go on with us,” said his mother. “Yes,” said he,
“that I will, my dear mother, but after I have conveyed yourself and my
sister to your anchorage I must make all sail I possibly can on board, and
ask the first lieutenant for fresh leave. I hope to be with you in about
an hour.” Having seen them both to the inn, we made our bows and repaired
on board. On explaining to the lieutenant his reason for wishing to go
again on shore he obtained further leave, put on a fresh set of rigging,
jumped into the boat that had brought us off, and was soon in the fond
arms of his mother and sister. Shall I say I envied him? No, I did not; I
only wished my mother and sister—for I had, like him, only one—were at the
“Fountain” and I alongside of them.
In less than a month we were ready for sea, and when we were all a
_taunto_ I was proud to belong to such a commanding and majestic-looking
vessel. Before sailing, I will indulge my reader with a little sketch of
the officers of our noble man-of-war.
The most noble captain I have before described, except that they had given
him in the cockpit (he being a very dark-complexioned man) the name of
“Black Jack”; his praying propensities seldom quitted him, but,
notwithstanding this fault, he had many good qualities. The first
lieutenant of the frigate we left had gone to his family. The second, in
consequence, had become first. He was a thorough seaman, and carried on
the duty with a tight hand. Woe betide the unfortunate mid who was remiss
in his duties: the masthead or double watches were sure to be his portion.
When the former, he hung out to dry two and sometimes four hours. The mids
designated him “The Martinet.” The second lieutenant was an elderly man,
something of the old school, and not very polished, fond of spinning a
tough yarn in the middle watch if the weather was fine, a fidgetty,
practical sailor with a kind heart. He informed us he was born on board
the _Quebec_, that his father was gunner of her when she blew up in the
action with the French frigate _Surveillante_, when all on board except
fourteen of the crew perished. Among the number saved were his father and
himself. The former jumped overboard from the fore-channels with the
latter, who was only seven years of age at the time, on his back, and swam
to the Frenchman’s foremast, which was floating at a short distance,
having been shot away by the English frigate. He added that had not this
unfortunate accident occurred, the French frigate must have struck her
colours in less than ten minutes. He spoke most indignantly of the conduct
of an English cutter that was in sight at the time. His nickname was “Old
Proser.” The third was a gentlemanly person, but more the officer than
practical sailor, fond of reading and drawing, and he frequently gave some
of us instruction in the latter. He had been in the East India Service,
and was a good navigator. We named him “Gentleman Jack.” The fourth had
been third in the frigate we left. I have already handed him up. His right
leg was rather shorter than the left; he was called “Robin Grey.” The
fifth was a delicate-looking man, fond of dress and the ladies, almost
always unwell; he was something of a sailor, but thought it a horrid bore
to keep watch. Strange as it may appear, this officer left the ship a few
months afterwards, and was made commander, post captain, and retired
admiral without serving afloat! We named him “The Adonis.”
The sixth was a stout-built regular man-of-war’s man, an officer and a
sailor, fond of conviviality, of gaming and a stiff glass of grog, but
never off his guard. He went by the name of “Tom Bowline.” The seventh was
as broad as he was long; the cockpitonians dubbed him “Toby Philpot.” He
was an oddity, and fond of coining new words. He knew the ship had three
masts and a sheet anchor. He was a strict disciple of Hamilton Moore, fond
of arguing about dip and refraction, particularly the former, as he put it
in practice on himself, being sometimes found with his head and heels at
an angle of 30 degrees in consequence of dipping his head to too many
north-westers. He was, however, good-natured, knew by rule how to put the
ship in stays, and sometimes, by misrule, how to put her in irons, which
generally brought the captain on deck, who both boxhauled the ship and him
by praying most heartily, although indirectly, for blessings on all
lubberly actions, and would then turn to the quarter-master and threaten
him with a flogging for letting the ship get in irons, poor Toby looking
the whole time very sheepish, knowing the harangue was intended for him.
The master was a middle-aged, innocent west-countryman, a good sailor,
knew all the harbours from Plymouth to the Land’s End, and perhaps several
others, but he was more of a pilot than a master, and usually conversed
about landmarks, church steeples, and crayfish. The surgeon was a clever
little dapper man, well-read, shockingly irritable, fond of controversy on
ethics, etymology, and giving the blue pill. I need not acquaint my reader
he was from York. The purser was the shadow of a man, very regular in his
accounts, fond of peach-water, playing the flute, of going on shore,
receiving his necessary money and taking all imaginable care of number
one. The captain of marines was a soldierly-looking, little, strong-built
man, very upright, fond of his bottle of wine, of holding warm arguments
with the surgeon, which always ended without either’s conviction—sometimes
to the annoyance, but more frequently to the amusement of the wardroom,
and he always appeared an inch taller when inspecting his corps. In his
manner he was always on parade, and he thought it a condescension to
notice a mid. The first lieutenant of marines was a tall, slight man, knew
the manual by heart, was fond of reading novels, presumed he was a great
man among the ladies (question, what sort of ladies?). He was a great
puppy, and when he passed the mids he regarded them with an air of
patronage, which they returned by a look of sovereign contempt. The second
lieutenant of marines was quite a different character. He was as playful
as a kitten, and never happier than when skylarking with the mids in the
cockpit. He was not a bad soldier, and a promising officer. When at sea he
always worked the ship’s reckoning for his amusement. The mids, with the
exception of three, were fine-looking lads from the ages of fifteen to
eighteen, fond of fun and mischief and of their half-pint of rum; were
frequently at watch and watch, mast-headed, pooped, and confined to their
half-farthing candle-lighted mess-holes. But, notwithstanding all these
complicated miseries, they were wicked enough to thrive and grow, and when
on shore forgot all their troubles and enjoyed themselves like princes.
The first surgeon’s assistant was a tall, slight young man, with his head
filled with the Pharmacopoeia, bleeding, blistering and gallipots. We
dubbed him “The Village Apothecary,” and sometimes “Snipes.”
The second assistant was a coarse Scotsman, full of pretension and
conceit, who assured us that if any of us should have occasion to have our
legs or arms amputated he could do it without any pain. He used to feel
our pulses after dinner with ridiculous gravity, and after examining our
tongues tell us we should take great care and not eat salt junk too
quickly, for it seldom digested well on young stomachs, and, added he with
great consequence, “I have a specific for sair heeds if ye ha’ any.” As he
was much pitted with the small-pox, we called him “Doctor Pithead.”
With every feeling of reverence to the revered chaplain, I will tread as
lightly over him as a middy’s clumsy foot encased with boots is capable.
Dear man, he came all the way from the Emerald Isle to join our ship, and
brought with him an ample supply of pure brogue, which he spoke most
beautifully. He was very inoffensive, perfectly innocent, and never
ruffled in temper, except when the wicked youngsters played tricks with
him while he was composing his sermon. One day he was much alarmed by the
following adventure, got up expressly by the mids. Some of these
incorrigible fellows, among whom I blush to acknowledge I was one, had
laid a train of gunpowder to a devil close to his cabin, whilst they
presumed he was very busy writing for their edification. The train was
fired from the cockpit hatchway, and soon caught the devil. As soon as the
dear, good man saw the sparks, he rushed out of his cabin, crying out,
“Oh, shure, byes, the ship’s on fire! Och! what shall I do now the ship’s
on fire? Och! what will I do?” On seeing that he was really alarmed, one
of the master’s mates went up to him with a comically-serious face, and
informed him that the first lieutenant finding, when looking round after
breakfast, that there was something which smelt unpleasant in his cabin,
had ordered it to be fumigated with a devil, but as he knew it was about
the time he composed his sermon, he was unwilling to disturb him, and the
devil had in consequence been placed as near his cabin as possible to
effect the purpose intended. His reverence was quite bewildered—an
unpleasant smell in his cabin, and a devil to drive it away was to him
incomprehensible; until the mate requested him to calm himself, and
assured him there was no danger, that the devil was perfectly harmless
except to unwholesome smells. “There,” added he, “is his infernal
majesty,” for he was ashamed to say devil so often before the chaplain,
“nearly exhausted,” pointing to the shovel which contained the lump of
gunpowder mixed with vinegar. “Now, sir, I hope your alarm has subsided,
and that you will not be more disturbed.” During this ridiculous scene,
worthy of the pencil of Hogarth, the youngsters with their laughing,
wicked heads up the hatchway, were enjoying themselves most heartily. The
following day was Sunday; prayers were read, but no sermon, as the poor
man was too much agitated afterwards to make one, and whenever his
messmates thought his sermon too long, they threatened him by a visit from
another devil.
The captain, on being informed of this trick, sent for the whole of the
mids and admonished them as to their future conduct.