OFF BOULOGNE.
Sent to watch the French flotilla off Boulogne—Monotonous
duty—Return to Sheerness to refit—Story of Billy Culmer—More
cruising off Boulogne—Return to England.
On the ninth day after joining, we sailed to cruise off Boulogne. The
vessel I now commanded was a brig sloop of fourteen 24-pounders, the
ship’s company by no means a bad set, and in the course of the cruise I
had the satisfaction of seeing them alert, clean and obedient. This was in
a great measure owing to the officers, who, when supported, were firm,
discriminating and encouraging. The consequence was that during the time I
commanded her there was only one desertion in eighteen months, and the cat
did not see daylight once in three months. I found off Boulogne another
cruiser watching the French privateers and Bonaparte’s boast—the flotilla.
The captain of her was a Job’s comforter. He told me he was both sick and
sorry to be on such a wear-and-tear, monotonous, do-nothing station, that
he had been out two months without effecting anything, that he had
frequently had the enemy’s privateers under his guns, but that the run was
so short, they were always sure of escaping. “One morning,” said he,
“about five months ago, I had got within musket-shot of one of those
vagabonds, and had been sure of him, when a shell fired from Cape Grisnez
fell directly down the main hatchway, bedded in one of the water-casks,
and shortly after exploded, without, fortunately, doing more mischief than
destroying a few more casks and splintering the beams and deck without
wounding a man. I was in consequence reluctantly obliged to give up the
chase, but not before I had taken ample revenge. In tacking I gave her all
the larboard broadside, and not a vestige of her was to be seen: but,”
continued he, “I hear of their taking prizes; but where the devil do they
carry them to?” “Not into Boulogne or Calais,” replied I. “Havre and
Cherbourg are the ports to sell them in.” “Then why,” said he, “do they
keep so many of us on this station and so few to the westward?” “I presume
it is,” I replied, “because this being the narrowest part of the Channel,
there is more risk of our vessels being captured, and you know all the old
women, with the Mayor and Aldermen, would petition the Admiralty to have
the fleet back again to watch that frightful bugbear the half-rotten
flotilla, which sometimes prevents them from taking their night’s rest.
And it is very probable that, was this station neglected, our vessels
would be cut out from the Downs.” “I never dreamed of that,” answered he.
“It’s all right, and if I can only take six of their privateers, or about
twenty of their flotilla, I will not say a word more.”
[Illustration: H.M.S. APELLES.]
I remained out nearly three months, watching the flotilla and the
privateers. We sometimes anchored just beyond range of their shells, and
frequently when the wind was light hauled the trawl, and were richly
rewarded by a quantity of fine fish. I was at length relieved by another
cruiser, and again anchored in the Downs. We were a fortnight refitting,
during which time I dined several times at the admiral’s table, where I
had the pleasure of meeting Sir R. Strachan, Sir P. Durham, and several
other distinguished officers. One day, after dinner, the characters of
several eccentric officers were the subject of conversation.
“I make no doubt,” said a veteran captain, “that most of the present
company recollect a man by the name of Billy Culmer, a distant relation of
Lord Hood’s. He was a short time one of my lieutenants, and was between
thirty and forty years of age before he obtained his commission. The next
time I dined with Lord Hood, who was then one of the Admirals in the
Channel Fleet, I was determined to request his lordship to give me a brief
outline of his history, which was nearly this. Shall I proceed, Lady
Campbell?” “Oh, by all means, Captain M.”
“‘The Culmers were distantly related to me by marriage,’ said his
lordship. ‘Billy, as he was always called, was sent to me when I hoisted
my pendant as master and commander. He unfortunately had lost an eye when
a boy in one of his freaks, for they could do nothing with him at home.
When he came on board I was not prepossessed in his favour; his manners
were rough and bearish, although he had some redeeming qualities, for he
was straightforward and frank. After being with me about two years, he
said he was tired of being a midshipman, and requested me to obtain his
discharge into the merchant service. I remonstrated with him to no
purpose. To prevent his deserting, which he declared he would do, I
procured his discharge, and he entered on board a West India ship going to
Jamaica. I had lost sight of this extraordinary being for more than eight
years,’ continued his lordship, ‘when, as I was standing on the platform
at Portsmouth, waiting for a boat from the frigate I commanded, I was much
surprised to see Billy Culmer, in a dirty sailor’s dress, a few yards from
me. He perceived me, and pulled off his hat. “Hulloa!” said I, “Billy;
where have you come from? I understood you were dead.” “Not so hard up as
that, sir,” replied he. “I am d——d.” “Explain yourself,” said I. “Why,”
said he, “I am d——d in the King’s service, for I shall never be able to
enter it again, in consequence of my folly in requesting you to get me
discharged.” “I probably may have interest enough, Billy, to get you once
more on the quarter-deck if you will promise me faithfully to remain
steady.” “I promise you solemnly I will,” replied he. “Then meet me at the
admiral’s office to-morrow at ten o’clock,” returned I. “And I suppose,
from your appearance, you are pretty well aground. Here is something that
will keep your body and soul together.” He made a leg and took his
departure.’ But I am afraid, Lady Campbell, you have had enough of this
rigmarole story, for it is rather a long one, and to those who know
nothing of the man it may not be an interesting one.” “Why, Captain M.,”
said Lady Campbell, “as the weather is disagreeable, and we do not intend
to take a drive this evening, we may as well hear about Billy Culmer as
anybody else. Do you not think so, Admiral?” The admiral, who appeared
more inclined for a nap than to listen to a long-spun yarn, I verily
believe, wished the narrator and the subject of his narration at the
masthead together. However, he nodded assent, and the story went on.
“‘On speaking to the admiral, Billy was again under my command,’ resumed
his lordship, ‘and was appointed mate of the hold. When I was promoted to
my flag, Billy and I parted company, for he had followed me steadily from
the frigate to a ship of the line. As soon as he had served his six years,
I sent for him and told him he must go to London to pass his examination.
“You must excuse me, my lord,” was his answer; “I would rather remain the
oldest midshipman than the youngest lieutenant,” and he persisted in this
whim for more than three years. At the end of that period the ship he
belonged to arrived at Spithead, and he came on board me to pay his
respects. “Well,” said I, “Culmer, will you now pass your examination, or
are you determined to die the oldest midshipman in the service?” “I have
been thinking of it,” was his reply, “but I have no money to carry me to
London.” “That,” said I, “I will give you. And if you can mount a horse, I
will procure that also.” In a few days Billy started for London, where he
arrived a week after, having sold my horse on the road, without informing
me of his having done so. When he made his appearance before the
Commissioners at Somerset Place, they were all younger than himself, and
one of them had been a mid in the same ship where he was mate. This last
addressed him, and in a half comic, half serious manner, said: “Well, Mr.
Culmer, I make no doubt you are well prepared for your examination.” “And
who the devil put you there,” answered Billy sharply, “to pass one who
taught you to be something of a sailor? Do you remember the _colting_ I
gave you when you were a youngster in my charge? But I never could beat
much seamanship into you. So you are to examine me, are you?” The two
other commissioners, who knew the whimsical character of the person before
them, called him to order, and requested he would answer some questions,
as he could not obtain his certificate without doing so. “Begin,” said
Billy, turning his quid and hitching up his trousers. “You are running
into Plymouth Sound in a heavy gale from the S.E.; how would you proceed
in coming to an anchor? Your top-gallant masts are supposed to be on
deck.” “I would first furl all and run under the storm forestay sail,
unfid the topmasts going in, and have a long range of both bower cables on
deck, and the sheet anchor ready. On coming to the proper anchorage I
would let go the best bower and lower the topmasts as she tended head to
wind; veer away half a cable and let go the small bower; veer away on both
cables until the best bower splice came to the hatchway. I should then
half a whole cable on one and half a cable on the other.”
“‘“The gale increases, and there is a heavy scud, and you find both
anchors are coming home. What then?”
“‘“Then I would veer to one and a half on the best and a whole on the
other.”
“‘“In snubbing the best bower, it parts in the splice. What then?”
“‘“What then?” exclaimed Billy sharply, for he began to be tired of being
interrogated respecting a part of seamanship he thought he knew better
than themselves. “Why,” replied he, taking a fresh quid of tobacco, “I
would let go the sheet anchor.”
“‘“But,” interrupted the elder Commissioner, “there is not, in consequence
of having dragged the bower anchors, room to veer more than a few fathoms
before you tail on the Hoe; consequently your sheet anchor, being only
under foot, will be of little or no use, and the strain being on the small
bower, it soon after parts.”
“‘“What humbug!” cried Billy, who could not contain himself longer. “I
tell you, gentlemen, what I would do. I would let her go on shore and be
d——d, and wish you were all on board her.”
“‘“Sit down, Mr. Culmer,” said the second Commissioner, “and calm
yourself. We shall leave you a short time. Probably we may ask you a few
more questions.”
“‘“Hem!” muttered Billy, and he scratched his head. After an interval of
half an hour, the Commissioner who had been his former messmate, entered
with his certificate.
“‘“I have much pleasure,” said he, “in having the power to present you
your passing certificate, and I hope your speedy promotion will follow. Do
you stay long in London?”
“‘“Only to have a cruise in Wapping and to see St. Paul’s and the
Monument,” returned Billy, “and then I shall make all sail for
Portsmouth.”
“‘“Have you any shot in your locker?” asked Captain T. “As much as will
serve this turn,” replied Billy, “for Lord Hood has sent me an order for
ten pounds on his banker.” “Good afternoon, Culmer,” said the former. “I
wish you your health.” “Thank you,” replied Billy; “the same to you; but
give me more sea-room next time you examine me, and do not let me tail on
the Hoe.”’ Billy, through the interest of Lord Hood, was quickly installed
lieutenant, but died shortly afterwards.”
“Well,” said the admiral’s lady, “I think, Captain M., had I known this
Billy Culmer, as you call him, I certainly should have made a pet of him.”
“I am afraid, my dear,” answered the Admiral, who appeared relieved now
the story was at an end, “you would have found him very pettish.” The
admiral’s play on the word produced a smile.
A young captain who sat near Lady Campbell asked her if she had ever heard
of a captain who was, in consequence of his extravagant behaviour, called
“Mad Montague?” “Pray, my dear,” cried the Admiral, who appeared terrified
at the idea of another story, “let us have our coffee.”
The hint was sufficient, we sipped our beverage and _chasse_, and departed
in peace.
Being ready for sea we left the Downs, and in a few hours were off our old
cruising ground to watch the terrible flotilla and the privateers, which
were principally lugger-rigged and carried long guns of different
calibres, with from fifty to seventy-five men. Some few had ten or
fourteen guns, besides swivels. The vessels forming the flotilla consisted
of praams, ship-rigged, and brigs carrying one or two eighteen or
twenty-four pounders, and the largest a thirty-two pounder (with sixty or
ninety men), all of them flat-bottomed. They sometimes, when the wind blew
fresh from the westward, ran down in squadrons close in shore, under the
protection of their batteries, to Calais. One Sunday I chased twenty-seven
and made the shot tell among some of them, until the pilots warned me that
if I stood further in they would give up charge of the ship. I chased
them, with the exception of one, who ran aground near Calais, into that
port. In hauling off after giving them a few more shot, their battery
favoured us with one which struck us between wind and water. As the shells
were now falling plentifully around us, I thought it prudent to make more
sail, as one of the shells had gone through the foretop-sail. Our force
generally consisted of three sloops of war to watch Boulogne, the senior
officer being the commodore, but in spite of all our vigilance the
privateers crept along shore under cover of the night without being seen,
and they sometimes tantalized us by anchoring outside, but so close in and
under their batteries that it was impossible to get at them in that
position. We, one morning at daybreak, captured a row-boat with twenty-two
men, armed with swivels and muskets. We had disguised the ship so much
that she took us for a merchantman, and before she discovered her mistake
was within pistol-shot. Three months had now expired, which had been
passed much in the same manner as the last cruise, when a cutter came out
to order us into the Downs.