prepared in earnest to invade England. A camp of 100,000 men was formed
on the cliffs at Boulogne, and a host of flat-bottomed boats gathered
for their conveyance across the Channel. At last the Emperor Napoleon
appeared in camp; all was ready. “_Let us be masters of the Channel for
six hours_,” he is reported to have said, “_and we are masters of the
world._” But he never was able to be master of the Channel for six
hours. The army waited and drilled, the old Bayeaux tapestry, which
illustrates the conquest of England by William of Normandy, was searched
out to create enthusiasm, and show what had once been done; all kinds of
schemes were resorted to to obtain the naval assistance of other
nations, and with success, for the Spanish fleet joined him. Still, the
English fleet, under Lord Nelson, held the Channel, but any accident
might give the six hours’ mastery, and so England had to be prepared.
The County Defence Committee again assumed the direction of affairs. The
arrangements made in 1798 were once more put in force. It was in 1803
that the Haytor Regiment was formed, and commanded by Lord Seymour; it
was 1,000 strong, with 250 artillery attached, and appears to have been
made up of all the volunteers in the Haytor Hundred with those of
several towns and parishes adjoining. Newton Abbot was the headquarters,
where Captain Babb, afterwards Lieutenant-Colonel Babb, was captain. In
the former arming of 1798 Ashburton had formed the 9th Devon Corps,
under Captain Walter Palk; they had clothed themselves with local-made
serge, and so gained the name of Sergebacks; they were disbanded at the
Peace of Amiens, but now again formed and became a company in the Haytor
Regiment, under Captain Tozer. Bridgetown, being in Berry Pomeroy
parish, also was in the Haytor district. Mr. Milford Windeatt, a
relative of the present Captain Windeatt, held a commission in the
Haytor Corps. Totnes, however, formed a separate corps, being in the
Stanborough Hundred, as did also Highweek, Kingsteignton, Chudleigh, and
Bovey Tracey, which were in Teignbridge. The Stanborough Regiment, in
which Kingsbridge formed a part, was connected with Plymouth. Torquay,
Paignton, and Brixham supplied artillery men under Colonel Cary, of Tor
Abbey. For the protection of Tor Bay the authorities garrisoned Berry
Head, which, being in the Haytor Hundred, was committed to a detachment
of the regiment under Colonel Cary. Many stories remain of this period
of service. I cannot say how long the volunteers were out; probably they
relieved each other. One story frequently told was of the French
fire-ships, for which they were on the lookout, to be sent among the
fleet in the bay, and which caused much stir. One night, as the full
moon rose red and fiery out of the sea, the sentry at the headland, who
had come from an inland parish, mistook it for a fire ship, discharged
his musket, and aroused the garrison. The uniform was similar to the
line regiments of the period, viz., scarlet swallow-tailed coats, turned
out with yellow, blue-black breeches, white cross belts, with a brass
plate having Haytor Regiment thereon; the pouches were black, the
buttons had H.V.R. (Haytor Volunteer Regiment); officers wore cocked
hats, others tall shakoes. The regiment assembled for field days and
drill at various points in the district. Lord Clifford has a plan of a
sham fight on Bovey-heathfield, but the movements appear to have been
very simple. Lieutenant-Colonel Babb, whose tablet is in Wolborough
Church, Newton Abbot, commanded the regiment at one time. On 21st
October, 1805, Lord Nelson caught the combined French and Spanish fleet
off Cape Trafalgar. His last and famous signal, “England expects every
man to do his duty,” was observed and obeyed, and although he fell in
the hour of victory, twenty battleships had struck their flags ere the
day was done. Pitt explained, in his last public words, “England has
saved herself by her courage; she will save England by her example.” The
crisis had again passed, England could breathe freely once more, still
the volunteers were kept enrolled for a time. The Haytors were disbanded
about 1809, and the old colours laid up in Wolborough Church until time
had consumed them. The time of peace continued for about forty years,
until the Crimean War, in 1853, left the country almost without troops
to garrison her arsenals. Then several Volunteer corps were raised,
among them the “Exeter and South Devon,” under Colonel Sir Edmund
Prideaux. At the peace in 1856 it was not disbanded, but remained
embodied until the memorable circular of 12th May, 1859, in which the
Secretary of State for War suggested the formation of Volunteer corps
throughout the country as a means of preventing the frequent war scares
caused by the uncertain actions of the French under Napoleon III. The
Exeter corps then became the first in the kingdom, and through them
Devonshire stands at the top in the precedence of the counties. On 24th
May, 1859, the Plymouth corps was formed, but the date of its acceptance
was later on. The movement had life because it was in accordance with
the feelings of the people, which was shown by almost every town in
Devon holding meetings for the purpose of forming corps, and persons of
every social position offered their services, and in a large proportion
undertook their own outfits. These offers were mostly accepted by Her
Majesty; each corps became an independent body, and was numbered in the
order in which they were accepted, but joined into administrative
battalions for drill purposes. In 1880, the administrative battalions
were consolidated into corps, which in 1885 were incorporated as
volunteer battalions of the county regiment, of which they have since
formed a part, and in the South African war sent two companies, fully
officered and equipped, to the front. This brings us to the eve of the
proposed changes in the constitution of our army and military system,
and possibly the close of the volunteer system as we have known it.
“The brave old men of Devonshire!
’Tis worth the world to stand,
As Devon’s sons, on Devon’s soil,
Though juniors of the band;
And tell Old England to her ace,
If she is great in fame,
’Twas good old hearts of Devon oak
That made her glorious name.”
P. F. S. AMERY.
JACK RATTENBURY, THE ROB ROY
OF THE WEST.
BY MAXWELL ADAMS.
John Rattenbury—or, as he is commonly called, the “Rob Roy of the
West”—was born at Beer in 1788. His father was a shoemaker by trade, but
before his son John was born, he went to sea on board a man-of-war, and
was never again heard of. His mother supported herself by selling fish,
while Jack was allowed to run wild, spending his time chiefly at the
water-side, where he acquired a taste for the sea and for those daring
adventures which made him subsequently so notorious. When about nine
years of age, he induced his uncle, who was a fisherman, to take him
with him in his fishing expeditions. This was the beginning of his sea
training, and continued for some time, until one day, being left in
charge of the boat, while his uncle was on shore at Lyme, he lost her
rudder. For this negligence his uncle chastised him with a rope’s end,
whereupon a separation ensued. Jack then joined a Brixham fisherman as
an apprentice, but after a space of twelve months, finding this
occupation uncongenial, he engaged himself to the master of a coasting
vessel of Bridport, trading between that port and Dartmouth.
[Illustration:
“JACK” RATTENBURY.
(_From a Lithograph by W. Bevan._)
]
About this time war broke out between England and France, and fearing
the press-gang, he returned to Beer. There he found his uncle engaged in
collecting men for privateering, an enterprise which appealed to his
roving spirit, and joining the crew, he, with twenty-two others, was
conveyed to Torquay and put on board the _Dover_, commanded by Captain
Matthews. In due course the _Dover_ was ready for sea, and in March,
1792, started for her first cruise off the Western Islands. He thus
describes his feelings on this occasion:—
And even now, notwithstanding the lapse of years, I can recall the
triumph and exultation which rushed through my veins, as I saw the
shores of my native country recede, and the vast ocean opening before
me; I was like a bird which had escaped from the confinement of the
cage, and obtained the liberty after which it panted. I thought on
some who had risen from the lowest to the highest posts, from the
cabin boy to the admiral’s flag. I wished to make a figure on the
stage of life, and my hopes and expectations were restless and
boundless, like the element around me.
The privateering enterprise, however, does not appear to have been very
successful. After cruising about the Western Islands for several weeks
without meeting with any adventure worth relating, the _Dover_ at last
fell in with three American merchant ships laden with French goods, but
as their commanders contended that they were not lawful prizes, they
were allowed to go. It transpired later on that these very vessels were
afterwards taken by an English cruiser. Not long after, the _Dover_ was
captured by a French ship, and the crew, including John Rattenbury, were
taken to Bordeaux and confined in the prison of that place. He does not
appear to have been badly treated by his jailers, and he was allowed a
certain amount of liberty, which enabled him to make the acquaintance of
the master of an American vessel, then lying in Bordeaux harbour,
Captain Prowse by name, who, taking a liking to the lad, allowed him to
conceal himself on board his ship. It was, however, more than twelve
months before the vessel was allowed to leave the port in consequence of
an embargo on all foreign shipping, when, having taken in a cargo of
wine, etc., it was cleared for New York, which port was reached after a
passage of forty-five days. Here Rattenbury engaged himself as cook and
cabin boy on board a ship sailing for Havre de Grâce. On arrival there
he was anxious to get home again. He therefore transferred himself to an
American merchantman belonging to Boston named the _Grand Turk_, bound
for London, as he supposed, but much to his disappointment it proceeded
to Copenhagen instead. He returned in her to Havre de Grâce, and thence
after sundry adventures found himself in Guernsey, where, to his
delight, he met his uncle, who took him back to Beer.
He was now sixteen years of age, and remained quietly at home for six
months, part of which time he spent in fishing. After the roving life he
had led, he found this occupation most uncongenial, and the smuggling
trade, which was then being plied very briskly in the neighbourhood,
offering great inducements, he determined to try his fortune at it. He
accordingly joined a vessel engaged in this trade between Lyme and the
Channel Islands, but after four months he engaged on another vessel, the
_Friends_, a brig, commanded by Captain Jarvis. While in Tenby harbour
she was captured by a French privateer. He thus narrates the incident:—
At eight o’clock the captain set the watch, and it was my turn to
remain below; at twelve I went on deck, and continued till four, when
I went below again, but was scarcely dropped asleep when I was aroused
by hearing the captain exclaim, “Come on deck, my good fellow! here is
a privateer, and we shall all be taken.” When I got up, I found the
privateer close alongside of us. The captain hailed us in English, and
asked us from what port we came and where we were bound. Our captain
told the exact truth, and he then sent a boat with an officer in her,
to take all hands on board his own vessel, which he did, except myself
and a little boy, who had never been to sea before. He then sent his
prize-master and four men on board our brig, with orders to take her
into the nearest French port. When the privateer was gone, the
prize-master ordered me to go aloft and loose the main-top-gallant
sail. When I came down I perceived that he was steering very wildly,
through ignorance of the coast, and I offered to take the helm, to
which he consented, and directed me to steer south-east by south. He
then went below and was engaged in carousing with his companions. They
likewise sent me up a glass of grog occasionally, which animated my
spirits, and I began to conceive a hope not only of escaping, but also
of being revenged on the enemy. A fog, too, came on, which befriended
the design I had in view. I therefore altered the course to east by
north, expecting that we might fall in with some English vessel. As
the day advanced, the fog gradually dispersed, and the sky getting
clearer, we could perceive land. The prize-master and his companions
asked me what land it was; I told them it was Alderney, which they
believed, though at the same time we were just off Portland. We then
hauled our wind more to the south until we cleared the Bill of the
Island. Soon after we came in sight of land off St. Alban’s. The
prize-master then again asked what land it was which we saw; I told
him it was Cape la Hogue. My companions then became suspicious and
angry, thinking I had deceived them, and they took a dog that had
belonged to our captain and threw him overboard in a great rage, and
knocked down his house. This I supposed to be done as a caution, and
to intimate to me what would be my own fate if I had deceived them. We
were now within a league of Swanage, and I persuaded them to go ashore
to get a pilot. They then hoisted out a boat, into which I got with
three of them, not without serious apprehension as to what would be
the event; but hope animated, and my fortunate genius urged me on. We
now came so near shore that the people hailed us, and told us to keep
further west. My companions now began to swear, and said the people
spoke English; this I denied, and urged them to hail again; but as
they were rising to do so, I plunged overboard, and came up the other
side of the boat. They then struck me with their oars, and snapped a
pistol at me; but it missed fire. I still continued swimming, and
every time they attempted to strike me, I made a dive and disappeared.
The boat in which they were now took in water, and finding they were
in a vain pursuit and endangering their own lives and safety, with
little chance of being able to overtake me, they suddenly turned round
and rowed away as fast as possible to regain the vessel. Having got
rid of my foes, I put forth all my efforts to get to the shore, which
I at last accomplished, though with great difficulty. In the meantime
the men in the boat reached the brig, and spreading all their canvas,
bore away for the French coast. Being afraid that they would get off
with the vessel, I immediately sent two men, one to the signal-house
at St. Alban’s and another to Swanage, to obtain all the assistance
they could to bring her back.
By good fortune the _Nancy_, a cutter belonging to the Custom’s Service,
happened to be lying in Swanage Bay, under the command of Captain
Willis, who, giving chase, re-captured the brig and brought her into
Cowes Roads. She was restored to her owners, on their paying salvage,
but Rattenbury received no reward for his services, and two days after
re-joining the brig, was impressed into the Royal Navy and put on board
a cutter cruising off the Channel Islands. On her return to Spithead,
Rattenbury escaped on board a fishing smack and was landed at Portland,
whence he proceeded, on foot, to Beer, exchanging his cap with a young
man whom he met on the way for a hat. Some days after a party from the
cutter sent in search of him reached Lyme, but although they failed to
catch Rattenbury they had arrested the young man with whom he had
exchanged hats. He was released, however, when they discovered that he
was not the man they were in search of.
During the next six months he occupied himself with fishing and
smuggling, but his roving spirit once more took him to sea, and in
March, 1800, we find him sailing for Newfoundland on board a brig
belonging to Topsham, commanded by Captain Elson. He was now twenty-two
years of age. On its way out the brig put into Waterford for provisions,
but had not been at sea many days before it had to put back to Waterford
for repairs, having sprung a leak. These were speedily effected owing to
the kindness of Lord Rolle, who lent seventeen of his soldiers to assist
in the work. In due course they reached St. John’s, Newfoundland, and
after discharging a part of their cargo, proceeded to Placentia and
afterwards to Pacee, where the ship was laid up for three months, while
the crew were employed in catching and curing cod. When they had secured
sufficient for a cargo, they set sail, in November, for Oporto, but they
had not been at sea many days before they were chased and captured by a
Spanish privateer, and a prize crew put on board. Rattenbury and an
Irish lad were, however, allowed to remain on board, and the former, by
making himself generally useful, gained the confidence of the Spanish
prize-master, so that when the prize reached Vigo, Rattenbury, instead
of being sent to a prison, was taken by the prize-master to his own
house, and given such a good character that the owner of the privateer
gave him his liberty and presented him with thirty dollars and a mule to
take him to Vianna, where the British Consul gave him a pass to Oporto.
Here he met his late captain and ship-mates, who had also been given
their liberty, and after some days found a vessel bound for Guernsey, on
which he was engaged as mate. After an exceedingly rough passage he
reached Guernsey on the 25th March, 1801, where he found a packet about
to sail for Weymouth, in which he took a passage, and thus reached Beer
once more.
On the 17th April, 1801, he married a young woman to whom he had become
engaged before setting out for his last voyage and settled down at Lyme.
Failing to find any regular employment, he determined to try
privateering again, and accordingly joined the _Alert_, a lugger
belonging to Weymouth, commanded by Captain Diamond. In her he sailed,
in May, for Alderney, where, having taken in a stock of wine and
spirits, a course was steered for the Western Islands in the expectation
of falling in with Spanish vessels, but the venture was not successful,
and the _Alert_ returned to Weymouth on the 28th December, 1801.
Rattenbury now remained at home for four years, and was employed in
piloting and victualling ships. One day, while at Bridport, he was taken
by the press-gang. He managed, however, to escape, and was pursued by
the lieutenant and nine men of the _Greyhound_. During the chase his
wife appeared on the scene, and seized the lieutenant round the neck. A
scuffle ensued, in which the townspeople joined, and Rattenbury was able
to get clear away. After this adventure he went to live at Beer, and
made many trips in smuggling with varied success; but the lieutenant of
the _Greyhound_ was his most persistent enemy, and was determined to
capture him. On one occasion, at Weymouth, hearing that the lieutenant
was on his track, he took refuge in a public-house, the landlord of
which was a friend of his. The lieutenant having received information as
to his hiding-place proceeded to the spot, and at two o’clock in the
morning roused up the house, threatening to fire at the landlord through
the window and force an entrance if he did not immediately come down and
open the door. On the alarm being given, Rattenbury concealed himself in
the chimney, and remained there for about an hour, while the premises
were being searched. On the departure of the lieutenant he came out of
the chimney in a parlous condition, black with soot and much bruised,
but, as he says, “triumphing over the sense of pain itself, in the
exultation which he experienced at having once more escaped out of the
clutches of this keen-eyed Lieutenant and indefatigable picaroon.”
Becoming sick of being constantly hunted, he determined to take to
privateering again, and shipped accordingly on board the _Unity_, a
cutter then fitting out at Weymouth, commanded by Captain Head. About
February, 1805, they proceeded to sea, touching at Alderney to take in
provisions and spirits, and steered a course for Madeira, Teneriffe,
etc., in the hope of falling in with prizes; but they met with no
success, and returned to Beer in August of the same year. In consequence
of his continued want of success in privateering, he determined never
again to engage in it, “a resolution,” he says, “which I have ever since
kept, and of which I have never repented.”
Rattenbury now settled down ostensibly to a life of fishing, but
actually of smuggling, in which he met with many adventures and every
variety of fortune. He had not been long at this employment when he was
captured by the _Roebuck_ while off Christchurch, in Hampshire; but
during the chase one of the man-of-war’s men, named Slaughter, had his
arm blown off in the act of firing one of the guns. The captain was
anxious to land the wounded man, and ordered a boat alongside to take
him ashore, into which Rattenbury smuggled himself, and on reaching
shore got clear off. That same evening he borrowed a boat and rescued
his companions from the _Roebuck_, together with three kegs of gin, part
of his contraband cargo which had been seized.
In the spring of 1806, he was captured by the _Duke of York_, cutter, in
a fog, and was taken to Dartmouth. On nearing that port, he jumped
overboard, swam ashore, and concealed himself in some bushes. Two women,
however, who had seen him, inadvertently revealed his place of
concealment, and he was re-taken. When he came on board again
... He was in such a pickle that his own shipmates could not help
laughing at him, and the captain, completely aggravated, exclaimed, “I
will put you on board a man-of-war and send you to the East Indies,”
to which he replied by calling him an old rascal, an expression which
only tended to sharpen his anger still more.
The smugglers were all tried by the magistrates of Dartmouth, who
sentenced them to a fine of £100, to go on board a man-of-war, or to
jail. They unanimously agreed to the last condition, but by six o’clock
in the evening they were all so heartily sick of their quarters, which
resembled the “Black Hole of Calcutta,” that they agreed to serve in the
Navy, and were accordingly entered for the _Kite_, then lying in the
Downs. They were removed the same evening to the _Safeguard_, brig,
which lay in Dartmouth Roads. Next morning Rattenbury asked permission
to go on board the _Duke of York_, on the pretext that he had a private
communication to make to the captain. While on board, he seized an
opportunity for escaping, jumped down on the bob-stay, and signalling
with his finger a small boat which was passing at the time dropped into
her, and in five minutes was landed at Kingswear, opposite Dartmouth,
whence he made his way home by land.
Later on he was captured by the _Humber_, sloop, commanded by Captain
Hill, and taken to Falmouth, where he was committed by the magistrates
to jail. Next morning he and one of his shipmates were put into two
post-chaises in charge of two constables to be taken to Bodmin. As the
constables stopped for liquid refreshment at every public-house on the
road they came to, they became somewhat merry towards evening. This was
Rattenbury’s opportunity. While the constables were taking their
potations at the “Indian Queen,” a public-house a few miles from Bodmin,
he bribed the drivers not to interfere in what was to follow, and as
soon as the constables came out they were overpowered by the smugglers.
Rattenbury ran to a cottage close by, and the woman who occupied it
showed him a way through the back door and garden, and having run a
mile, on looking back, he saw his companion, who had escaped in the same
way. That night they reached Newquay together, and next morning found
their way on hired horses to Mevagissey, whence they took a boat to
Budleigh Salterton.
On another occasion he defended himself in a cellar for four hours with
a reaping hook and a knife, against a sergeant and ten men, all armed,
and only escaped capture through a diversion created by some women
arriving with a made-up story that a vessel had drifted ashore and that
a boy was in danger of drowning.
Towards the end of 1808, through the influence of Lord Rolle, the
soldiers posted at Beer for the purpose of catching Rattenbury were
ordered away, and the ever-present fear of capture being thus removed,
he determined to settle down as a law-abiding citizen, and with this
object in view took a public-house, spending his leisure hours in
fishing. But unfortunately this business did not prosper, so that about
November, 1812, he reverted to his old trade of smuggling. In due course
he was captured by the _Catherine_, a brig commanded by Captain Tingle,
and brought to Brixham. While there his wife was allowed to visit him,
and with her he arranged a plan of escape. She, in company with the
wives of his shipmates, were to come alongside the _Catherine_ on the
next day with a good boat. This was done, and Rattenbury, with his
companions, jumped into the boat for the avowed purpose of helping “the
ladies” out of her up the side of the brig. As soon as the women were
all out of the boat, Rattenbury gave the order to “shove off,” and
although chase was immediately given and shots fired, the smugglers
managed to land at a headland called “Bob’s Nose.” They quickly
scrambled up the cliff, but Rattenbury, taking off his coat and hat and
leaving them at the top of the cliff, rolled himself down again to the
beach and made for Torquay. On the next day he met his wife, and they
set off together for Beer. His companions, however, were pursued, the
chase being watched from the neighbouring hills by several hundred
people from Brixham, but only two were re-taken.