THE SAME WEARY ROUND.
Leave to return home for four days—Visit of the Duke of
Clarence—Again off Boulogne—Down Channel with a convoy—Boulogne
once more—Refit at Plymouth—Return Boulogne—Run aground on French
coast—Part of crew escape in boats—Author and nineteen men remain
on board.
On our arrival, in consequence of the vessel wanting material repairs, we
were desired to repair to Sheerness. The commander-in-chief at this
ill-flavoured town was a King John’s man, four feet something without his
shoes, and so devoted to the reading of the Scriptures that he sometimes
carried that sacred book under his arm. Some ill-natured people said he
understood little of its doctrines, as he was too cross and unsociable to
be a good Christian. Be that as it may he gave me leave, whilst the ship
was refitting, to go home for four days. Where is the man who does not,
after he has been absent from his family for nearly ten months, yearn to
be with a fond wife and half a house full of dear children once more.
During the short period I was at home, I thought myself in the seventh
heaven. Alas, the time flew away on rapid wings. How soon our joy is
changed to sorrow. I tore myself from the house that contained my dearest
treasures, and was soon again among tar jackets and tar barrels. The
admiral appeared satisfied with my punctuality, but he did not invite me
to dinner, and as he did not I repaired to the principal inn with a few
brother officers, and ordered some fish and a boiled leg of mutton and
mashed turnips. “It is very extraordinary, gentlemen,” replied the head
waiter when we mentioned the articles we wished for dinner. “There are
thirteen different naval parties in the house, and they have all ordered
the same. But,” added he, “I am not at all surprised, for our mutton is
excellent.” The following morning the signal was made for all captains to
repair to the dockyard to receive the Duke of Clarence. At one o’clock he
arrived in the commissioner’s yacht from Chatham. I had the honour of
being presented to him first, as I happened to be nearest. He asked me a
few questions of no importance, and then passed on to another officer. He
inspected the yard and the troops, we all following him. As he was
afterwards to breakfast, or rather lunch, with Commissioner Lobb, the
latter was considerate enough to invite us all to meet him, and a curious
kind of meeting it was. The distinguished and illustrious admiral was very
chatty, and appeared from the manner of his eating to be sharp set. The
little Admiral of the Port did not, for some reason, attend. His friends
said he ought to have given the refreshment instead of the commissioner,
but it was not his fashion. I was not sorry when the Duke took his
departure, as his presence brought everything to a standstill.
In a week’s time we were ready for sea, and I left Sheerness, the little
hospitable admiral, and all its contents without shedding one tear. Off
Margate the pilot had the kindness to bump us on shore, but as the tide
was making, the vessel was soon afloat without receiving any injury. His
wife had predicted this in her preceding night’s dream, and he, silly man,
had not sense enough to give up his turn to another pilot. On arriving in
the Downs, I was ordered next day to repair to my old tiresome cruising
ground, where, during a period of three long, lingering months, we
cruised, anchored, fished, and frequently on Sundays engaged the old
women’s terror, the flotilla. We also took a _chasse marée_ laden with
plaster of Paris. As I imagined I should gratify the honest people at
Dover, particularly the female part, who might be twisting their
papillotes and talking scandal for want of other amusement, by sending in
a vessel with the English flag flying above the French, I was determined
to do so, although I knew she would scarcely pay her condemnation. A few
days afterwards I received a note from the prize agent to request I would
not send in anymore of the same description, as there was a balance of six
pounds against us for Proctor’s fees, etc. Thinks I to myself, how odd.
So, as the sailor says, after venturing life and limb in capturing an
enemy’s vessel, I am to pay for taking her. D——n me, Jack, that’s too bad.
I’ll write to Joseph Hume to bring it before the House of Commons. I know
he is a great reformer and a sailor’s friend, although he terms them a
dead weight.
We were at the end of our cruise relieved, and anchored again in the
Downs, where I was informed Sir G. Campbell had been relieved by Sir Thos.
Foley, his counterpart in worth and gallantry.
I waited on the gallant admiral, left my card on Lady Lucy, and was
invited to dinner. The admiral, as he is well known, and considered one of
our most distinguished officers, I need not describe. His lady was a
lively, hospitable, agreeable person, and I often reflect on the many
pleasant hours I passed at the admiral’s house. I understand she is now a
saint and is very charitable. Generally speaking, I do not admire saints.
They are too pure to mix with this sinful world, and are not fond of
sailors. A fortnight passed away when we once more sighted our anchors,
and the day after that eye-sore Boulogne. Our occupation was much the same
as the last cruise, except that I was ordered shortly after I sailed to
take charge of a large convoy outward bound, and to proceed with them as
far as Portsmouth. On my arrival there I went on shore and waited on the
admiral, Sir R. Curtis, whom I found walking, what he termed his
long-shore quarter-deck, the platform. He was a little, shrewd man, and
knew a handspike from a capstan bar. I informed him from whence I came,
and that I had fulfilled my orders respecting the convoy. I then presented
him the necessary papers belonging to my own ship. “Come with me to my
office,” was the order. In going there we had to pass part of the market,
where the admiral was well-known. He conversed in passing with several
pretty market girls, and chucked them under the chin. “Ho, ho!” thought I.
On breaking the seal of the envelope of the papers I had given him, he
said, “I find all perfectly in order. How long have you been a commander?”
I informed him. “Your seniors,” returned he, “may blush and take your
correctness for a pattern.” I made my bow. “You will sail to-morrow for
your station,” continued he. “Foley is a good fellow, and I will not
detain you longer than that time, so that you may take prizes for him.
There will be a knife and fork at my table at five o’clock, where, if you
are not engaged, I hope to see you.” He then withdrew. If I had not known
this gallant officer’s character as a courtier, I should have been highly
flattered by his compliments. Had anyone else stood in my shoes, his
language would most likely have been the same. However, it put me in good
humour, for who is there that does not like to be commended and sometimes
flattered? At the admiral’s table I met his amiable daughter, who did not
appear in health, and some old brother officers.
At daylight I robbed Spithead of some of its mud, and was soon in sight of
detested Boulogne, and of its, if possible, more hated flotilla; and I
almost believe that if our men could have caught some of its crew they
would have eaten them alive. This cruise we assisted, as the French say,
in taking one of their privateers, the prize-money of which gave soap to
the ship’s company for the next cruise; what other good we did I say not.
At the expiration of another three months, His Majesty’s sloop’s anchors
once more bit the mud in the Downs. On my going on shore to the admiral’s
office, I was informed that I was to repair to Plymouth and there refit. I
was, as Sir R. Strachan said in his despatch, “delighted.” I hoped we
should be ordered to the Mediterranean. I dined with the admiral, and the
day after we tore the anchors from their unwilling bed and made all sail.
As I passed the coast near Boulogne I made my bow and wished it good-bye,
I hoped for ever. On the fourth day we graced Plymouth Sound. I made my
bow to the commander-in-chief, Sir R. Calder, who asked me, with some
surprise, where I came from, and what I did at Plymouth. I produced my
order, etc. “This is a mistake of some of the offices; I have no orders
respecting you. However, as you are here, I suppose we must make good your
defects, and, notwithstanding that you have taken us by surprise, I hope I
shall have the pleasure of seeing you at six o’clock to dinner.”
I repaired on board with a pilot and brought the vessel into Hamoaze. At
the appointed time I waited on the admiral. The dinner I thought passed
off heavily. There were no ladies to embellish the table, and after coffee
I went on board. Next morning I waited on the commissioner, Fanshaw, who
received me very graciously, as I was known to several of his family. As
the vessel was to be docked and fresh coppered, we were hulked, and I took
lodgings on shore, where the commissioner did me the honour of calling on
me and requested me to dine with him the following day. The dinner party
consisted of another brother officer, his own family, who were very
amiable, and myself. During the fortnight I remained here, as I was well
acquainted with several families, I contrived to pass my time very
agreeably.
I expected every hour orders to fit foreign, but, oh! reader, judge of my
mortification when the admiral informed me I was to go back from whence I
came in a few days, and take with me a heavy-laden convoy. My mind had
been filled with Italian skies and burnished golden sunsets, ladies with
tender black eyes, Sicilian coral necklaces, tunny-fish and tusks. I was
to give up all these and to return to that never-to-be-forgotten,
good-for-nothing rotten flotilla, to see Dover pier, the lighthouse, and
the steeple of Boulogne, to cross and re-cross from one to the other to
provoke an appetite. If I had had interest enough I would have changed the
Board of Admiralty for having sent me to Plymouth on a fool’s errand. My
thoughts were bitter and seven fathoms deep. Again I cruised, like an
armadillo on a grassplat, there and back again. After our usual time we
again disturbed the mud, and most likely a number of fish, by letting go
our anchors in the Downs, I little thought for the last time. How blind is
man to future events, and fortunate it is he is so!
On the ninth day His Majesty’s brig was again dividing the water and
making it fly to the right and left in delicate wavy curls. We wished
Boulogne, Bonaparte, and his flotilla burnt to a cinder during this
cruise; we were generally at anchor off that detested place, and took
nothing, for there was nothing to take. On Sunday we were usually firing
at the flotilla as they anchored outside the pier, but so close to it that
I fear our shot made little impression. At this time they were erecting a
column on the heights, on which, we understood from the fishing-boats, an
equestrian statue of that great dethroner, Bonaparte, was to be placed. A
large division of the army of England, as they chose to call themselves,
were encamped round it. We occasionally anchored at Dungeness for a few
hours to procure fresh beef and vegetables. Our cruise was nearly
terminated when the sloop of war, whose captain was senior to myself, made
my signal. On repairing on board her, he informed me that a division of
the flotilla was to run along shore for Cherbourg that night, and that it
was necessary to keep the vessels as close in shore as possible, in order
to intercept them.
I again joined my ship and remained on deck until midnight in the hope of
encountering these bugbears, and making them pay dearly for all the
trouble they had given us; but, alas! how futile is the expectation of
man! I had gone to my cabin and thrown myself on the sofa, and fallen into
a canine slumber—that is, one eye shut and the other open—when I heard a
confused kind of rumbling noise, and soon afterwards the officer of the
watch tumbled down the hatchway and called out to me that the ship was
aground on the French coast, but that the fog, which had come on about an
hour after I quitted the deck, was so dense that the land could not be
seen. I had only taken off my coat and shoes. I was immediately on deck,
where I saw, to my sorrow and amazement, my commanding officer hard and
fast about half pistol-shot from us. I asked the pilots, whose
carelessness had done us this favour, what time of tide it was. “The
infant ebb of the spring,” was the comfortable answer. “I wish you were
both hanged,” I replied. “So be it,” responded the officers. During this
period we were not idle; the boats were got out as well as an anchor
astern, and the sails hove aback, the water started, the pumps set going,
guns thrown overboard over the bows as well as shot, but all our efforts
proved fruitless—you might as well have tried to start the Monument; and,
to conclude this distressing and disastrous scene, a heavy battery began
pouring its shot into the vessel I commanded, she being the nearest, and
the fort not more than an eighth of a mile from us on the edge of a cliff.
A boat came from the sloop to request that I would make preparations to
blow up my vessel and quit her with the crew. “Sooner said than done,”
replied I to the officer sent; “my boats will not carry the whole of us,
and however I may wish to go to heaven in a hurry, probably those who are
obliged to remain may not be willing to bear me company.” As the vessel
began to heel over towards the battery, I ordered the boats to be manned,
and all left the ship except nineteen men and myself, who had the felicity
to be fired at like rabbits, as the enemy had now brought some
field-pieces to bear on us. Our rigging was soon shot away and our sails
cut into ribbons. At length away went the lower masts a little above the
deck, while about two hundred men were pegging away at us with muskets. To
make our happiness supreme, the sloop of war which had been set on fire
and abandoned, blew up, and set us partially in a blaze, and while we were
endeavouring to extinguish it the enemy took the cowardly advantage of
wounding the purser, gunner, and two seamen, as well as myself, though
only slightly. We had now fallen so much on the side that we stood with
our feet on the combings of the hatchways, with our backs against the
deck. What a charming sight, as my Lady Dangerfield might have said, to
see four heavy guns from the battery, three field-pieces, and about two
hundred soldiers firing at a nearly deserted vessel, and endeavouring to
pick off and send to “Kingdom come” the unfortunate few of her crew who
remained. The captain of the other sloop, finding I was not in the boats,
pulled back in a gallant manner under a most galling fire to entreat me to
come into his boat. This I declined, as I could not in justice leave those
who were obliged to remain behind. Finding he could not prevail on me to
leave, he joined the other boats and proceeded to England, where, happily,
they all arrived in the evening. We had now been aground about four hours,
and the enemy had amused himself by firing at us for about two hours and a
half.(6)