A HOLIDAY ASHORE.
On shore—Tired of inactivity—Apply for a ship—Appointed to H.M.S.
_Minotaur_ (74)—Prisoners sent on board as part of crew—Go to
Plymouth—Scarcity of seamen—Ruse to impress an Irish farm
labourer—Ordered to join the Channel fleet off Ushant—Capture
French thirty-six-gun ship—In danger off Ushant—Capture two small
French ships and one Dutch one: author sent to Plymouth in charge
of the latter—Placed in quarantine.
After I had remained in noisy, bustling, crowded and disagreeable London a
month, my mother wishing to go into Surrey, I was glad of the opportunity
to accompany her and to breathe purer air, and left town without regret.
I was now under my own orders, and was much puzzled to find out how I was
to obey myself. For the last ten years I had been under the control of
superiors. Now I had the whole of my crew within myself, and discipline I
found was necessary. I knew no more of England than it knew of me. Men and
manners were equally strange to me, except those on board the different
men-of-war I had served in, and they were not the most polished. In the
society of the fair sex I was exceedingly shy, and my feelings were
sometimes painful when I had to run the gauntlet through rows of
well-dressed women, some looking as demure as a noddy at the masthead. I
was now in my twenty-third year, and an agreeable—nay, an old lady, whose
word was considered sacred—declared I was a charming young man. My life
passed as monotonously as that of a clock in an old maid’s sitting-room.
My habits were too active to remain long in this state of listlessness. I
was almost idle enough to make love, and nearly lost my heart seven times.
Caring little for the society of the men, I generally strolled over two or
three fields to read my books, or to scribble sonnets on a plough, for I
began to be sentimental and plaintive. Whilst meditating one morning in
bed, I started up with a determination to have an interview with Sir J.
Colpoys, who was one of the Lords of the Admiralty, and ask him in person
for employment, for I began to be apprehensive if I remained longer on
shore I should think a ship was something to eat, and the bobstay the
top-sail haulyards. Three weeks after my application I was appointed to
the _Minotaur_ of seventy-four guns lying at Blackstakes, and I found it
black enough, for she not having her masts stepped, we were all
obliged—that is the officers—to live at the “Tap” at Shurnasty, commonly
called Sheerness, where we spent thirteen out of six shillings a day, and
until the ship was ready to receive us, which was nearly a fortnight, we
drank elevation to the noble Secretary of the Admiralty, for, owing to his
ignorance, we had been obliged to spend seven shillings daily more than
our pay.
Two days after the ship was commissioned, and I had been carrying on the
war, for I was the senior lieutenant, the gallant captain made his
appearance. After touching his hat in return to my grand salaam, he said,
“Hulloa, how is this? I expected to find the ship masted. I will thank you
to desire the boatswain to turn the hands up to hear my commission read,
and quartermaster,” addressing a dockyard matey, “go down and tell all the
officers I am on board.”
“That is not a quartermaster,” said I to him, “he is one of the dockyard
men.” “Then where are the quartermasters?” “We have none,” replied I, “nor
have we a seaman on board except some one-legged and one-armed old
Greenwich pensioners that were sent on board yesterday.” At this
satisfactory intelligence he turned his eyes up like a crow in a
thunderstorm, and muttered, I fear, something in the shape of a prayer for
the whole Board of Admiralty. Whilst we were looking at each other not
knowing what to say next, a man came up the hatchway to report that one of
the Greenwich men had broken his leg. “Where is the surgeon?” said the
captain. “He has not yet joined,” replied I. “We must send him to the
dockyard for surgical aid. Man the boat, and you, Mr. Brown, take him on
shore,” said I. Mr. Brown made one of his best bows, and acquainted me
that it was the carpenter who was wanted and not the surgeon, as the man
had snapped his wooden leg in one of the holes of the grating, and the
carpenter’s mate was fishing it. After a pause of some minutes, “So,”
resumed the captain, “this is the manner King’s ships are to be fitted
out. Why, it will take us a month of Sundays before the lower masts are
rigged. What the devil did they send those old codgers with their wooden
legs here for? I will go immediately to the Admiral, and point out the
state we are in.” In the afternoon another lieutenant joined the ship,
junior to me. I began to think I should be the first, when on the
following day I was unshipped, for two others came on board by some years
my seniors. The captain also sent four young mids on board and the
Admiralty two oldsters, one of whom was a sprig of nobility. On the
morning of the fourth day we were masted, and a lighter came alongside
filled with riggers from London, and soon afterwards we received our
complement of marines, with a captain and two lieutenants. We were now
beginning to get animated and to make some show, when, as I was giving an
order to the boatswain, Mr. Brown, whom I ought to have introduced before
as the gunner, reported a barge coming alongside with prisoners. “That is
surely a mistake,” replied I; “I hope they do not take us for the prison
ship.” Bump she came, stern on. “Hulloa!” I called out; “do you wish to
try what the bends are made of?” Before I could say anything more, up came
and stood before me, cocked-up hat in hand, a consequential, dapper little
stout man dressed in black, with his hair in powder. “Please you, sir, I
have brought, by the order of the magistrates at Maidstone, fifteen men to
belong to your ship. They be all of them tolerable good men, except five,
who have been condemned to be transported, and two to be hung, but as they
be contrabanders like, the Government have sent down orders for ’em to be
sent on board your ship.” “I am sure,” said I, “I can in the name of His
Majesty’s officers offer many thanks to His Majesty’s Government for their
great consideration in sending men who deserve hanging to be made sailors
on board His Majesty’s ships.” He then, with a flourish, presented me a
paper with their names and the offences of which they had been guilty.
Nine of these honest, worthy members of society were stout, robust
fellows, and had only taken what did not belong to them. Two of the
remaining six had been condemned for putting brave citizens in bodily fear
on the King’s highway and borrowing their purses and watches. The other
four were smugglers bold, who wished to oblige their friends with a few
hundreds of yards of Brussels lace and gloves, as well as some tubs of
brandy, but were unfortunately interrupted in the exercise of their
profession by those useless sea-beach cruisers called the Coast Guard.
“Pray, sir,” said I, “to whom may I be obliged to for the safe conveyance
of these honest men?” “I be the under-sheriff’s officer, sir,” answered
he, “and I have had mighty hard work to bring them along.” “You deserve to
be rewarded, Mr. Deputy Sheriff” (for I like to give every man his title),
said I; “you would probably like to have a glass of grog.” “Why it’s
thirsty weather, and I shall be obliged to you, sir.” I called the
steward, desired he might have some refreshment, and he soon after quitted
the ship, admonishing the live cargo he brought on board, who were still
on the quarter-deck, to behave themselves like good men. A month had
expired by the time the top-gallant masts were on end. We had received all
our officers and two hundred men from Chatham and the river. At length,
Greenwich pensioners, riggers, and dockyard mateys took their departure,
to our great satisfaction, as it was impossible to bring the ship’s crew
into discipline whilst they were on board. Our complement, including the
officers, was six hundred and forty men. We had only three hundred and
twenty when orders came down for us to proceed to Plymouth. The captain
and first lieutenant looked very wise on this occasion, and were
apprehensive that if the ship slipped the bridles she would be like an
unruly horse, and run away with us, for there were only forty men on board
who knew how to go aloft except a few of the marines. The pilot made his
appearance, and soon afterwards down went the bridles, and we were fairly
adrift. We reached the Nore, and let go the anchors in a hail squall, and
it was with the greatest difficulty we got the top-sails furled. The
admiral, having proof positive that we were as helpless as a cow in a
jolly-boat, took compassion on us and sent fifty more men from the
flag-ship, most of them able seamen. On the fourth day after quitting the
Nore we anchored in Plymouth Sound.
I now had the delightful opportunity of once more breathing my native air,
viewing beautiful Mount Edgcumbe, revelling in clotted cream and potted
pilchards, tickling my palate—as Quin used to do—with John-dories, conger
eels, star-gazey and squab pies, cray-fish, and sometimes, but not very
often—for my purse was only half-flood in consequence of my expenses
whilst on shore at the “Tap” at Sheerness—I had a drive upon Dock. The
flag-ship in Hamoaze was the _Salvador del Mundo_, a three-decker taken
from the Spaniards in the memorable battle of the fourth of February. The
day after anchoring I was ordered by the captain to go with him on board
the _Sally-waiter-de-Modo_. I reflected a short time, and not knowing
there was such a ship on the Navy List, turned to the first lieutenant and
asked him if he had heard of such a man-of-war. “No,” said he, smiling,
“the captain chooses to call her so; he means the flag-ship.” On repairing
on board her, my commander said to me, “You help me to look at those
fellows’ phizes,” pointing to a number of men who were toeing the seam on
her quarter-deck. “I am to take thirty of them; they are queer-looking
chaps, and I do not much like the cut of their jib. But mind,” added he,
“don’t take any one that has not a large quid of tobacco in his cheek.”
I went up to the second man, who had a double allowance of Virginia or
some other weed in his gill, the captain following me. “Well, my man,”
said I, “how long have you been to sea?” “Four months,” was the reply.
“Why, you d——d rascal,” said our skipper—for observe, reader, he never
swore—“what the devil business have you with such a quantity of tobacco in
your mouth? I thought you were an old sailor.” “No, sir,” answered the
man, “my trade is a tailor, but I have chawed bacca from my infancy.”
“Question another,” was my order. I interrogated the next, who was a
short, slight, pale-faced man. “And pray,” said I, “what part of the play
have you been performing; were you ever at sea?” “No, sir,” said he; “I am
a hairdresser, and was pressed a week ago.” “D——n these fellows!” said my
captain; “they are all tailors, barbers, or grass-combers. I want seamen.”
“Then,” said Captain N., who was the flag-captain, and had just come on
board, “I much fear you will be disappointed. These are the only
disposable men, and it’s Hobson’s choice—those or none.”
“The admiral promised me some good seamen,” returned my skipper, rather
quickly. “Then I fear the admiral must find them,” was the answer, “as I
have not more than twenty seamen on board besides the petty officers. The
last were drafted a few days ago in the _Defiance_. Will you take any of
these men, Captain W.?” “What do you think,” said my captain to me; “shall
we take any of them?” “Suppose,” returned I, “we take twenty of them and
the tailor; they will all fit in in time.” I then picked out twenty of the
best, who were bad enough, as they were the worst set I ever saw grouped.
Their appearance and dress were wretched in the extreme. I reached the
ship before the hour of dinner with my live cargo. “What, more hard
bargains,” said the first lieutenant, “we have too many clodhoppers on
board already. The captain told me we were to have seamen.” “Captain N.,”
said I, “assured our noble captain that the _Defiance_ had taken all the
A.B.’s.” “D——n the _Defiance!_” replied he; “I _defy_ Captain N. or
anybody else to match those gentlemanly ragamuffins.” The master’s mates
were called, and they were given into their charge.
One of them, a tall, large-boned man, requested to remain on deck a little
longer as he had a palpitation of the heart. “What country man are you?”
said I. “Shure,” answered he, “I’m all the way from dear ould Ireland, and
I don’t think I shall be arter seeing the bogs again; but good luck to
her, wherever she goes!” “What did you do there?” said I. “Och,” said he,
“why do I give all this trouble and what business have I here? In Ireland,
plase your honour, I planted praters and tended cows. In the hay season I
came to England and was employed in stacking, when one day, as I was
taking a walk in a field near Lunnen, I fell in with four men who asked me
to join them as they were going to a public-house to have something to
drink. I thought this was very civil to a stranger. After taking the first
pot they told me they intended going in a boat on the river, and asked me
if I could pull an oar. ‘I’ll try,’ said I. ‘Well,’ said they, ‘on
Saturday, at five o’clock in the evening, be down at Wapping Stairs and
you will see a green painted boat with six men in her. I will be ready to
meet you,’ said one of the most good-natured, ‘and we will have a pleasant
trip.’ I little thought, your honour, that these spalpeens, saving your
presence, intended anything more than friendship. I was at the place
pointed out, and stepped into the boat. I took the second oar, but I
caught so many crabs that I was desired to sit in the stern. We pulled up
the river, which I thought very pleasant. In returning, the man who
steered said he had a message to deliver on board a dark-looking vessel we
were close to. We got alongside of her. ‘Won’t you go up, Pat?’ said he;
‘you never was on board so large a vessel; she is worth looking at.’ I
went up after him, when a man dressed in a blue coat with yellow buttons
came up to me and told me to go below. Saying this, he called to another,
who told me he would show me the way, which he soon did, and I was forced
into a dark place where I found seven more half-ragged, half-starved
looking animals. Two of them were countrymen. ‘Who have we here?’ said one
of them. ‘I am all the way from Ireland,’ said I, ‘and I have come to see
this ship.’ ‘The devil you have, my honey; and what do you come here for?’
‘Shure enough,’ replied I, ‘that’s true. I’ll go and see arter my frinds.’
At this they all laughed. I went to the door, but found a sodjer there
with a drawn sword. ‘What do you want?’ demanded he. ‘To go, and plase
you.’ ‘To-morrow, my lad,’ replied he; ‘to-night you stay where you are.’
‘Why, what a bother you are making, Pat,’ said one of my companions; ‘you
know you are going to serve the King.’ ‘And pray,’ said I, ‘who is the
King? I never saw or heard of him before. How can I serve him?’ ‘That’s a
good one,’ said the one who first spoke. ‘Where were you born and
baptized?’ ‘About the bogs of Ireland,’ replied I, ‘and I was baptized
over a bowl of buttermilk and praters by Father Murphy in a stable among a
parcel of cows.’ ‘You’ll do,’ said another; ‘have you any dibbs?’ ‘Yes,’
answered I, ‘I have got two shillings and fourpence.’ ‘That will do. Send
for a pot of the right sort, and we’ll drink a long life to Ireland.’ I
gave the one who spoke some money. We had our pot, drew ourselves up like
pigs in a trough, and went to sleep. Next morning at daylight we were put
on board a tender—not very tenderly, your honour, for I lost my waistcoat
and my money, and when I complained I was forced over the ship’s side.
They said the boat could not wait, as the tender was under weigh. We
arrived at Plymouth about a fortnight ago, and here I am, your honour.”
“Well,” said I, “if you behave yourself well and endeavour to do your
duty, you will be happy enough; and as I brought you on board, I will, if
you deserve it, keep sight of you, and in time you may become a good
seaman, and perhaps a petty officer.” “Long life to your honour! I’ll be
shure and take your advice.” And so he did, and in a few months after was
made captain of the waist.
We were now tolerably in order, and soon after joined the Channel fleet
off Ushant. The second day after leaving Plymouth Sound we fell in with
the _Franchise_, a large French frigate of thirty-six guns and three
hundred and forty men, who, after exchanging a few shot without doing us
any mischief, struck her colours. She was from St. Domingo, with General
F. on board, bound to Brest. Her second captain appeared a very delicate
young person, and during the four days he was on board he never slept in
the cot provided for him in the captain’s cabin, but always threw himself
down on the sofa in his clothes. We all conjectured that, as a son of Erin
might say, he was a woman, which idea after the prisoners left us, was
confirmed by the captain’s steward, who had been bribed to secrecy during
the passage to Plymouth. The lady was the daughter of the captain of the
captured frigate in disguise.
Having seen our prize into Hamoaze, and taken our officers and men out of
her, we left her in charge of the prize agent, and repaired to our station
off Ushant. We joined the fleet, consisting of thirteen sail of the line
and two frigates. We looked into Brest roads, and could discover only
eight sail of the enemy’s line of battle ships, with their top-gallant
yards crossed; nine others were coming forward. Four more sail of the line
having joined our fleet, we were directed to part company and cruise off
Vigo Bay. Soon after we fell in with the _Venerable_. Having the watch on
deck, the captain desired the signalman to hoist the dog-a-tory pendant
over the dinner signal. The man scratched his head and made wide eyes at
one of the midshipmen, requesting him to tell him what the captain meant.
“By Jove!” said the mid, “if you do not bear a hand and get the signal
ready, he will make you a dog-of-a-wig instead of a Tory.” Seeing the man
at a pause, I asked him if he had the signal ready. “Yes, sir,” replied
he; “I have the telegraph dinner flags ready, but I do not know what the
dog-a-tory pennant is; it must be in the boatswain’s store-room, for I
have never had charge of it.” I could not forbear laughing at the man’s
explanation. “What’s the signalman about?” inquired the captain; “why does
he not hoist the signal?” “He did not know where to find the pendant you
mentioned,” replied I. “I have told him you meant the interrogatory
pendant.” “To be sure; I said so as plain as I could speak. The fellow
must be stupid not to understand me,” continued our deeply-read skipper. A
worthier, better or braver seaman than our noble commander never had the
honour of commanding a King’s ship. His zeal and loyalty were
unimpeachable. To hear him read the Articles of War to us once a month
was, if not improving, most amusing. He dogrogated God’s honour with
emphasis, and accused the ministers of the Church of being lethargic. Some
of my messmates declared, although it was perfectly without intention on
his part, that the captain in the last expression was right, for although
the word was liturgy, he was justified in reading it lethargy. Respecting
the other word, “dogrogation,” they had all turned over the leaves of
Bailey’s ancient dictionary in vain; but they presumed the captain meant
to read “derogation,” as it respected God’s honour, and they considered it
as a _lapsus linguæ_. Two of the officers’ names were Bateman and
Slateman. For months after they had been on board our worthy captain did
not appear to know one from the other, and we were sometimes much
diverted, and they were much annoyed, by his sending for one when he meant
the other. Although our cruising ground appeared a profitable one, and we
were considered fortunate in being sent there, for six weeks we only made
prizes of hundreds of the finny tribe by trawling off Quimper and
L’Orient. This amusement, exercising guns, sails and lead, gave us full
employment, and kept us out of mischief.
For nearly two months we had only seen four of our cruisers, and a few of
the enemy’s small craft going along shore, and although we frequently
volunteered for boat service, our commander always closed his ears to our
requests. He was no friend to boating, he said; it very seldom turned out
successful, and it only answered, if it did at all, when courage was
doubtful. “And if you are not men of courage,” he used to add, “you are
not the men I took you for.” At length a cutter brought us orders to
rejoin the Channel fleet under Lord Gardner, as the French fleet had
increased to nineteen sail of the line, besides frigates. After joining,
we were stationed off the Black Rocks, with four other ships, to watch
Brest and the movements of the enemy’s fleet. At this time we were
seventeen sail of the line and three frigates, and were very sanguine that
the ships at Brest would favour us with their company, as they had been
practising their firing and sailing in Brest water. We strained our eyes
and imaginations in vain. There they stuck, as the seamen used to say,
like the _Merrydun_, of Dover, which took seven years in veering, and when
she did so the fly of her ensign swept two flocks of sheep off Beachy
Head, while her jib-boom knocked down the steeple of Calais church and
killed the sexton. Cruising on this Siberian ground was horribly
monotonous work. We sincerely wished the French fleet alongside of us, or
in a warmer place. On one dark night we were caught in a heavy gale from
the westward. We were under close-reefed main and foretop-sails and
mizzen. The ship was settling down on Ushant rapidly, and we expected to
strike every moment. The rebound of the water from the rocks caused the
spray to fly half-way over the decks from to leeward. A rock called La
Jument was on our lee bow. Luckily we saw the sea breaking over it. “Port
the helm!” called out one of the pilots, “or the ship’s lost. She must
bear the main-sail, captain,” added he, “or we shall not weather the
island, and she will strike in less than half an hour.” The main-sail was
cast loose, and after a severe contest, its unwilling tack and sheet were
belayed. The ship was literally buried in the foam, and I expected to see
the main-mast go by the board every instant. Orders had been given, in
case of such an event, to have all the axes ready. Providentially the wind
veered two points to the southward, which saved the ship and her crew. Had
she struck, she must instantly have gone to pieces. The rocks were so
perpendicular that in all probability the whole of us must have made food
for fishes. In a quarter of an hour we were clear of the island. Had we
been under sentence of death, and suddenly reprieved, the effect on our
minds could not have been greater. Long, anxious faces coiled themselves
up to half their length and became brighter. The captain, who had been
pacing the quarter-deck in quick time, brought himself up all standing,
and I could perceive his lips move, and, if I mistake not, he was offering
up a mental prayer of thankfulness for our hair-breadth escape. At
daylight the gale abated, when, on examining the masts, the maintop-mast
was found sprung in the cap. The following evening we captured two French
brigs from Martinique, laden with sugar and coffee, and the day after a
Dutch ship from Smyrna bound to Amsterdam, laden with silks and cotton, in
which I went as prize-master. On our arrival at Plymouth we were put into
quarantine. The boat which came out to us kept on her oars. I could not
forbear smiling when I requested our letters might be sent on shore by her
to see the great and certainly necessary precautions taken by these
cunning people. A long kind of sprit was held up, split at the end to
receive the letters. When in the boat, one man clipped them with a pair of
scissors, another fumigated them with brimstone, a third bedabbled them
with dirty vinegar and threw them into a leathern bag, taking care not to
touch them with his hands.