ON BOARD THE “JASON”
“I won’t ask you for your story till after dinner,” Mr. Palethorpe said.
“To enjoy a yarn one needs to be comfortable, and I feel more at home in
my arm-chair in the dining-room than I do in this room, with all its
fal-lals. You see, I have taken the house furnished. When I settle down in
a home of my own, I can assure you it will look very different from this.
In fact I have one already building for me. It is at Dulwich, and will be
as nearly as possible like my house in Jamaica. Of course there will be
differences. I at first wished to have the same sort of veranda, but the
architect pointed out that while in Jamaica one requires shade, here one
wants light. So they are getting large sheets of glass specially made for
putting in instead of wood above the windows. Then, of course, we want
good fireplaces, whereas in Jamaica a fire is only necessary for a few
days in the year. There are also other little differences, but on the
whole it will remind me of the place I had for so many years.”
“The house will have one advantage over that in Jamaica, Mr. Palethorpe.”
“What is that?” he asked.
“You will be able to go to bed comfortably without fear of having the roof
taken from over your head by a hurricane.”
“Ah! that is indeed a matter to which I have not given sufficient
consideration, but it is certainly a very substantial advantage, as we
have all good reason to know.”
“I never think of it without shuddering,” Alice said. “It was awful! It
seemed as if there was an end of everything! I think it was the memory of
that night that first set me thinking of going to England.”
“Then I cannot but feel grateful to that hurricane, for if you had
remained out there it is probable that I should never have met you again.”
“I am having a large conservatory built so that we can have greenness and
flowers all the year,” Mr. Palethorpe remarked presently.
“I should think that would be charming. I hope you will be settled at
Dulwich long before I come back from my next cruise.”
“Well, I don’t know that I can say the same, Will. I hope your next cruise
will be a short one.”
When dinner was over, the chairs were drawn up to the fire, and Will
related his adventures since his return from the West Indies.
“Have you heard of your two favourite sailors?” Alice interrupted.
“Dimchurch and Tom Stevens? No, I have not. I shall feel lost without them
at sea, and sincerely hope that I may some day run against them, in which
case I am sure, if they are free, they will join my ship.”
“How terribly cut up they must have been,” the girl said, “when they got
down to the beach and found that you were missing!”
“I am sure they would be,” he replied. “I expect the rest of the men
almost had to hold them back by force.”
“Well, go on. You were hit and made prisoner.”
Will went on with his story till he came to his escape from Verdun.
“What was she like?” the girl asked. “I expect she was very pretty.”
“No, not particularly so. She was a very pleasant-looking girl.”
“I can imagine she seemed very pleasant to you,” the girl laughed; “and,
of course, before you got out of the window and climbed to the top of the
house you kissed her, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did,” Will said. “Of course she expected to be kissed. I am not at
all used to kissing. In fact, I only experienced it once before, and then
I was a perfectly passive actor in the affair.”
The girl flushed up rosily.
“You drew that upon yourself, Alice,” her father said. “If you had left
him alone he would not have brought up that old affair.”
“I don’t care,” she said. “I was only thirteen, and he had saved my life.”
“You didn’t do it again, my dear, I hope, when you met him in the street
to-day.”
“Of course not!” she exclaimed indignantly. “The idea of such a thing!”
“Very well, let this be a lesson to you not to enquire too strictly into
such matters.”
“Ah! I will bear it in mind,” she said.
“I can assure you, Alice, that it was a perfectly friendly kiss. She was
engaged to be married to a young soldier who was a prisoner at Porchester,
and during the past week I have been employed in setting him free, as you
will hear presently. I promised her I would do so if possible, and of
course I kept my word.”
“What! you, an English officer, set a French prisoner free! I am shocked!”
Mr. Palethorpe said.
“I would have tried to set twenty of them free if twenty of their
sweethearts had united to get me away from prison.”
They laughed heartily at the story of his escape as a pedlar, and were
intensely interested in his account of the manner in which he succeeded in
getting a despatch from the agent of the British Government at Amsterdam.
He continued the narrative until his arrival in England.
“Now we shall hear, I suppose, how this British officer perpetrated an act
of treason against His Most Gracious Majesty.”
“Well, I suppose it was that in the eyes of the law,” Will laughed.
“Fortunately, however, the law has no cognizance of the affair, at any
rate not of my share in it. I don’t suppose it has been heard of outside
Porchester. As His Gracious Majesty has some forty thousand prisoners in
England, the loss of one more or less will not trouble his gracious
brain.”
He then related the whole story of Lucien’s escape.
“I should have liked to see you dressed up like a pedlar, with your face
all painted, and a wig and whiskers,” the girl said, “though I don’t
suppose I should have recognized you in that disguise to-day.”
“It was a capitally-managed plan, Will, and had it been for a legitimate
object I should have given it unstinted praise. And so you saw him fairly
off from England?”
“Yes; and by this time I have no doubt he is on the top of a vehicle of
some sort, going as fast as horses can gallop to join his sweetheart.”
“I wonder,” Alice said mischievously, “whether she will ever tell him of
that kiss at the window.”
“I dare say she will,” laughed Will, “but perhaps not till they are
married. I sent her the gold watch I promised her, and when she holds it
up before his eyes I think he won’t grudge her the kiss. Still, I believe
these things are not always mentioned.”
“No, I suppose not,” she said, with an affectation of not understanding
him. “Why should they be?”
“I can’t say indeed, if you can’t.”
“Well, I am not ashamed of it one little bit, though I own that I never
have told anybody. But I don’t see why I shouldn’t. I am sure there were
at least half a dozen ladies in Jamaica who would willingly have kissed
you for what you did for them.”
“Thank you! I should certainly not have willingly submitted to the
ordeal.”
It was late when the story was finished, and they soon afterwards went to
bed.
Will spent a delightful week with his friends. Alice had grown up into a
charming young woman, full of life and vivacity, and even prettier than
she had promised to be as a girl. They went about together to all the
sights of London, for Mr. Palethorpe said that he didn’t care about going,
and young people were best left to themselves. When the time came for
parting, Will for the first time experienced a feeling of reluctance at
joining his ship. He and Alice were now almost on their old footing, and
Will thought that she was by far the nicest girl he had ever seen; but it
was not until he was on the top of the Portsmouth coach that he recognized
how much she was to him. “Well,” he said to himself, “I never thought I
should feel like this. Some young fellows are always falling in love. I
used to think it was all nonsense, but now I understand it. I do not know
why her father should object to me, as I am fairly well off. I must see as
much of her as I can when I land next time. I hope she won’t meet anyone
in the meantime she likes better.”
The _Jason_ was now lying out in the harbour, and the riggers had taken
possession of her. Will at once reported himself and went on board. The
other officers had not yet joined, but he at once took up his work with
his usual zeal, and spent a busy fortnight looking after the riggers, and
seeing that everything was done in the best manner. He was, however,
somewhat angry to find that Alice’s face and figure were constantly
intruding themselves into the cordage and shrouds. “I am becoming a
regular mooncalf,” he said angrily to himself. “It is perfectly absurd
that I can’t keep my thoughts from wandering away from my work, and for a
girl whom I can hardly dare hope to win. I shall be very glad when we are
off to sea. I’ll then have, I won’t say something better, but something
else to think of. If this is being in love, certainly it is not the thing
a sailor should engage in. I have often heard it said that a sailor’s ship
should be his wife, and I have no longer any doubt about it. But I know
I’ll get over it when I hear the first broadside fired.”
A week later the first lieutenant joined. His name was Somerville.
“Ah, Mr. Gilmore,” he said, “I see you have taken time by the forelock and
given an eye to everything! I only received my appointment two days ago or
I should have joined before. There is nothing like having an officer to
superintend things, and I feel really very much obliged to you for not
having extended your leave, which, of course, you could have done,
especially as, so far as I know, no boatswain has yet been appointed.”
“I was glad to get back to work, sir, and it is really very interesting
seeing all the rigging set up from the very beginning.”
“That is so, but for all that men don’t generally want to rejoin,” the
first lieutenant said with a smile. “The difficulty is to get young
officers on board. They hang back, as a rule, till the very last moment.
Well, if you will dine with me this evening, Mr. Gilmore, at the George, I
shall be glad to hear of some of your services. That they are
distinguished I have no doubt, for nothing but the most meritorious
services or extraordinary interest could have gained you at your age the
appointment of second lieutenant in a fine ship like this. I think it a
very good thing for the first lieutenant to know the antecedents of those
serving with him. Such knowledge is very useful to him in any crisis or
emergency.”
After dinner that evening Will gave an account of his services, the
lieutenant at times asking for more minute details, especially of the
capture of the two pirates.
“Thank you very much!” Lieutenant Somerville said when he had finished.
“Now I feel that I can, in any emergency, depend upon you to second me,
which I can assure you is by no means commonly the case, for promotion
goes so much by influence, and such incapable men are pushed up in the
service that it is a comfort indeed to have an officer who knows his work
thoroughly. I hope to goodness we shall have the captain so fine a ship
deserves.”
“I hope so indeed, sir. I have hitherto been extremely fortunate in having
good captains, as good as one could wish for.”
“You are fortunate indeed, then. I have been under two or three men who,
either from ignorance or ill-temper or sheer indifference, have been
enough to take the heart entirely out of their officers.”
On the day when the _Jason_ was ready for commission the captain came down
to Portsmouth and put up at the George, and Mr. Somerville and Will called
upon him there. He was a young man, some years younger than the first
lieutenant.
“Gentlemen,” he began, “I have pleasure in making your acquaintance. I saw
the admiral this morning, and he assured me that I could not wish for
better officers. I hope we shall get on pleasantly together, and can
assure you that if we do not it will not be my fault. We have as fine a
ship as men could wish to sail in, and I will guarantee that you will not
find me slack in using her. As you may guess by my age, I owe my present
position partly to family interest, but my object will be to prove that
that interest has not been altogether misplaced. I have already had
command of a frigate, and we had our full share of hard service. I am
afraid that with a seventy-four we shall not have quite so many
opportunities of distinguishing ourselves, but shall generally have to
work with the fleet and fight when other people bid us, and not merely
when we see a good chance. There is, however, as much credit, if not as
much prize-money, to be gained in a pitched battle as in isolated actions.
I was kindly permitted by the admiral to read both your records of
service, and I cannot say how gratified I was to find that I had two such
able and active officers to second me.”
“I am sure we are much obliged to you, sir,” Lieutenant Somerville
replied, “for speaking to us as you have done. I can answer for it that we
will second you to the very best of our power, and I am glad indeed to
find that we have a commander whose sentiments so entirely accord with our
own.”
“Now, gentlemen, we have done with the formalities. Let us crack a bottle
of wine together to our better acquaintance, and I hope I shall very often
see you at my table on board, for while I feel that discipline must be
maintained, I have no belief in a captain holding himself entirely aloof
from his officers, as if he were a little god. On the quarter-deck a
captain must stand somewhat aloof, but in his own cabin I cannot see why
he should not treat his officers as gentlemen like himself.”
They sat and chatted for an hour, and when they left, Lieutenant
Somerville said to Will: “If I am not much mistaken, we shall have a very
pleasant time on board the _Jason_. I believe Captain Charteris means
every word he says, and that he is a thoroughly good fellow. He has a very
pleasant face, though a firm and resolute one, and when he gives an order
it will have to be obeyed promptly; but he is a man who will make
allowances, and I do not think the cat will be very often brought into
requisition on board.”
One day Will was sauntering down the High Street when he saw two
country-looking men coming along. One of them looked at him and staggered
back in astonishment.
“Why,” he exclaimed, “it is Mr. Gilmore! We thought you were in prison in
the middle of France, sir.”
“So I was, Dimchurch; but, as you see, I have taken leg-bail.”
“That was a terrible affair, sir, at them French batteries. When I got
down to the shore, and found you were missing, it was as much as they
could do to keep Tom here and me from going back. You mayn’t believe me,
Mr. Gilmore, but we both cried like children as we rowed to the _Tartar_.”
“I am indeed glad to see you again, and you too, Tom. I guessed that if I
ever came across the one I should meet the other also. What are you doing
in those togs?”
“Well, sir, we put them on because we did not want to be impressed by the
first ship that came in, but preferred to wait a bit till we saw one to
suit us. I see, sir, that you have shipped a swab. That means, of course,
that you have got a lieutenancy. I congratulate you indeed, sir, on your
promotion.”
“Yes, I got it a month ago, and to a fine ship, the _Jason_.”
“She is a fine ship, sir, and no mistake. Tom and I were watching her
lying out in the harbour yesterday, and were saying that, though we have
always been accustomed to frigates, we should not mind shipping in her if
we found out something about the captain.”
“Well, I can tell you, Dimchurch, that he is just the man you would like
to serve under, young and dashing, and, I should say, a good officer and a
fine fellow.”
“And who is the first lieutenant, sir, because that matters almost as much
as the captain.”
“He is a good fellow too, Dimchurch, a man who loves his profession and
has a good record.”
“And who is the second, sir? not that it matters much about him if the
captain and first luff are all right. I suppose she has four on board, as
she is a line-of-battle ship?”
“Yes, she carries four. As to the second, I can only tell you that he is
one of the finest fellows in the service, and you will understand that
when I say that I am the second lieutenant.”
“What, sir!” Dimchurch almost shouted, “they have made you second
lieutenant on a line-of-battle ship! Well, that is one of the few times I
have known promotion go by merit. I am glad, sir. Well, I will go and sign
articles at once, and so, of course, will Tom; and what is more, I will
guarantee to find you a score of first-rate hands, maybe more.”
“That is good indeed,” Will said. “I will speak to the first lieutenant
and get you rated as boatswain, if possible. You have already served in
that capacity, and unless the berth is filled up, which is not likely, I
have no doubt I can get it for you.”
“Well, sir, if you can, of course I shall be glad; but I would ship with
you if it was only as loblolly boy.”
“The same here,” Tom said; “you know that, sir, without my saying it.”
“Is there any berth that I could get you, Tom?”
“No, sir, thank you! A.B. is good enough for me. I am not active enough to
be captain of the top, but I can pull on a rope, or row an oar, or strike
a good blow, with any man.”
“That you can, Tom; but I do wish I could get you a lift too. How about
gunner’s mate?”
“No, thank you, sir! I would rather stop A.B. I should like to be your
honour’s servant, but, lor’, I should never do to wait in the ward-room. I
am as clumsy as a bear, and should always be spilling something, and
breaking glasses, and getting into trouble. No, sir, I will be A.B., but
of course I should like to be appointed to your boat.”
“That is a matter of course, Tom. Well, I will go round to the dockyard at
once and see you sworn in, and then gladden the first lieutenant’s heart
by telling him that you will bring a good number of men along with you,
for at present we are very short-handed.”
“You trust me for that, sir. I know where lots of them are lying hid, not
because they don’t want to serve, but because they want a good ship and a
good captain. When I tell them that it is a fine ship, and a good captain,
and a good first and second, they will jump at it.”
Dimchurch was as good as his word, and the following week persuaded thirty
first-class seamen to sign on.
“At the same time, sir,” he said as they went towards the harbour, “I
would rather she had been a frigate. One has always a chance of picking up
something then, as one gets sent about on expeditions, while on a
battle-ship one is just stuck blockading.”
“That is just what I think,” Tom said. “There are no boat expeditions, no
chances of picking up a prize every two or three days, or of chasing a
pirate. Still, though the _Tartar_ was a frigate, we did not have much fun
in her, except when we were on shore. That was good enough, though it
would not have been half so good if the sailors had not done it alone. We
wanted to show these redcoats what British seamen could do when they were
on their metal. I know I never worked half so hard in my life.”
“Well, I quite agree with you. It is more pleasant commanding a small
craft than being second officer in a large one, although I must say I
could not have had a more pleasant captain and first lieutenant than I
have now if I had picked them out from the whole fleet. I am sorry that I
cannot get leave at present, for I want to make researches about my
father. According to what my lawyer said it is likely to be a long job. I
hope, however, to get it well in trim on my next spell ashore. It makes
really no difference to me now who or what my father was. I have a good
position, and what with the prize-money I made before, and shall gain now
by my share of the sale of the frigates we took at Corsica, to say nothing
of the guns and stores we captured, I have more than enough to satisfy all
my wants.”
“I have done extraordinarily well too, Mr. Gilmore,” Dimchurch said. “I
took your advice, and Tom and I have put all our prize-money aside. He has
over a thousand saved, and I have quite sufficient to keep me in idleness
all my life, even if I never do a stroke of work again.”
Mr. Somerville, on Will’s recommendation, at once appointed Dimchurch
boatswain, and he soon proved himself thoroughly efficient. “He is a fine
fellow, that sailor of yours,” the lieutenant said, “and will make a
first-rate boatswain. He has done good service in bringing up so many
hands, and good ones too, and he is evidently popular among the men.”
“He is a thoroughly good man, sir. He attached himself to my fortunes when
I was but a ship’s boy, and has stuck to me ever since. He and Tom Stevens
are, with one exception, the greatest friends I have ever had, and both of
them would lay down their lives for me.”
“A good master makes a good man,” Lieutenant Somerville said with a smile.
“Your greatest friend was, of course, the lady who pushed you on with your
education.”
“Yes, sir, certainly I regard her as the best friend I ever had.”
“Well, there is no better friend for a lad than a good woman, Gilmore. In
that sense my mother was my greatest friend. Most mothers are against
their sons going to sea. In my case it was my father who objected, but my
mother, seeing how I was bent upon it, persuaded him to let me go.”
Three weeks after being commissioned the complement of the _Jason_ was
complete, and she was ordered to proceed to the West Indies, to which
place they made a fast passage. To their disappointment they fell in with
none of the enemy’s cruisers on their way. The voyage, however, sufficed
to give the crew confidence in their commander. He was prompt and quick in
giving orders, and at the same time pleasant in manner. He paid far more
attention than most captains to the comfort of his crew, and, while he
insisted upon the most perfect order and discipline, abstained from giving
unnecessary work. In cases where punishments were absolutely necessary he
punished severely, but when it was at all possible he let delinquents off
with a lecture. So, while he was feared by the rougher spirits of the
crew, he was regarded with liking and respect by the good men.
On their arrival at Carlisle Bay, Barbados, they found that they were in
time to join a naval expedition whose object was to recover the islands of
St. Lucia, St. Vincent, and Grenada, which had been captured by the French
the previous year.
A fleet had been sent from England under the command of Rear-admiral
Christian, consisting of two ships of the line and five frigates,
convoying a large fleet of transports with a strong body of troops on
board under the command of Sir Ralph Abercrombie.
At Carlisle Bay this fleet were joined by most of the ships on the West
Indian station, and on the 21st April, 1796, the augmented fleet, under
the command of Sir John Laforey, sailed to Marin Bay, Martinique, where
they anchored. On the following day Sir John Laforey resigned his command
to Admiral Christian and sailed for England. The fleet then stood across
to St. Lucia. The troops were landed at three different points under the
protection of the guns of the fleet.
The first point was protected by a five-gun battery. The fire of the
ships, however, soon silenced it, and the first division made good its
landing. The seventy-four-gun ship _Alfred_ was to have led the second
division, supported by the fifty-four-gun ship _Madras_ and the forty-gun
frigate _Beaulieu_, but the attempt was thwarted by lightness of wind and
a strong lee current. On the next day, however, a landing was effected
with little opposition. Eight hundred seamen, under the command of
Captains Lane of the thirty-two-gun frigate _Astrea_ and Ryves of the
bomb-vessel _Bulldog_, were landed to co-operate with the troops. Morne
Chabot was attacked and carried that night with the loss of thirteen
officers and privates killed, forty-nine wounded, and twelve missing.
On the 3rd of May an attempt was made to dislodge the enemy from their
batteries at the base of the mountains, but was repulsed with loss, as was
an attack on the 17th on the place called Vigie.
In the meantime the men had been busy building batteries and planting
guns, and when these opened fire on the evening of the 24th of May the
enemy capitulated, two thousand marching out and laying down their arms. A
great quantity of guns, together with stores of every description, were
found in the different forts, and some small privateers and merchantmen
were captured in the offing. Eight hundred seamen and three hundred and
twenty marines had been landed from the ships of war, and had behaved with
their usual courage and promptitude. The manner, indeed, in which they
established batteries and planted guns in places deemed almost
impracticable astonished the troops, unused as they were to exercises
demanding strength and skill.
As soon as St. Lucia had surrendered, the expedition moved to St. Vincent.
The defence here was decidedly weak, and after some skirmishing, the
enemy, composed chiefly of negroes and Caribs, capitulated. Our loss
amounted to thirty-eight killed and one hundred and forty-five wounded.
Grenada offered a comparatively slight resistance. The monster, Fedon, who
was in command there, massacred twenty white people who were in his power
in full view of the British, who were on the plain below. He and his men,
however, were hotly pursued through the forest by a detachment of German
riflemen, and the greater portion of them killed without mercy.
A detachment of British and colonial troops from the garrison of Port au
Prince in St. Domingo proceeded to besiege the town of Leogane in that
island. Covered by the guns of the fleet the troops were landed in two
divisions, while the _Swiftsure_, seventy-four, cannonaded the town, and
the _Leviathan_ and _Africa_ the forts. The place, however, was too strong
for them, and at nightfall the ships moved off to an anchorage, while
those who had landed were withdrawn on the following morning. Two of the
frigates were so much damaged that they were compelled to return to
Jamaica to refit. An attack was next made upon the fort of Bombarde, which
stood at a distance of fifteen miles from the coast. Will and a detachment
from his ship formed part of the force engaged. The road was extremely
rough, and was blocked by fallen trees and walls built across it. The
labour of getting the cannon along was prodigious.
“I must say,” Will said to Dimchurch, who was one of the party, “I greatly
prefer fighting on board to work like this. We have to labour like slaves
from early morning till late in the evening; but I don’t so much mind
that, as the fact that at night we have to lie down with only the food
that remains in our haversacks, and what water we may have saved, for
supper. Now in a fight at sea one at least gets as much to drink as one
wants.”
“I quite agree with you, Mr. Gilmore. It’s dog’s work without dog’s food.
I don’t mind myself working here with a chopper eight or ten hours a day,
but I do like a good supper at the end of it. The worst of it is, that
when it is all over it is the troops who get all the credit, while we poor
beggars do the greater part of the work. The soldiers are well enough in
their way, but they are very little good for hard work. How do you account
for that, sir?”
“I can only suppose, Dimchurch, that while they get as much food as we do,
they have nothing like the same amount of hard work to do.”
“That’s it, sir. Why, look at them at Portsmouth! They just go out of a
morning and drill on the common for a bit, and then they have nothing else
to do all day but to stroll about the town and talk to the girls. How can
you expect a man to have any muscle to speak of when he never does a
stroke of hard work? I don’t say they don’t fight well, for I own they do
their duty like men in that line; but when it comes to work, why, they
ain’t in it with a jack-tar. I do believe I could pull a couple of them
over a line.”
“I dare say you could, Dimchurch, but you must remember that you are much
stronger than an ordinary seaman.”
“Well, sir, I grant I am stronger than usual, but I should be ashamed of
myself if I could not tackle two of them soldiers.”
“Yes, but don’t forget they have been cooped up on board a ship for a
month, with nothing to keep them in health, and certainly no exercise,
while you are constantly doing hard work. If you were to put these men
into sailors’ clothes, and give them sailors’ work for six months, they
would be just as strong and useful.”
“Well, sir, if they are that sort of men why do they go and enlist in the
army instead of becoming sailors. It stands to reason that it is because
they know that they cannot do work.”
“Why, Dimchurch, I have heard that in the great towns girls think as much
of soldiers as of sailors.”
“Well, that shows how little they know about them. In a seaport, what girl
would look at a soldier if she were pretty enough to get a sailor for a
sweetheart.”
“You are a prejudiced beggar,” Will laughed, “and it is of no use arguing
with you. If you had gone as a soldier instead of taking to the sea you
would think just the other way.”
On the next morning the march was renewed, and in the evening they reached
the fort. They had had several severe skirmishes during the day, losing
eight killed and twenty-two wounded, but the garrison, consisting of three
hundred, surrendered without further resistance as soon as the place was
surrounded, and the sailors then rejoined their ships.
“Well, I am mighty glad I am back on board,” Dimchurch said to Will the
evening they re-embarked. “This marching, and chopping trees, and being
shot at from ambushes, doesn’t suit me. There is nothing manly or
straightforward about it. Hand to hand and cutlass to cutlass is what I
call a man’s work.”
“That is all very well, Dimchurch, but though you may capture ships you
will never get possession of islands or colonies in that way. If you want
them you must land and fight for them.”
“Yes, sir, that is all very good, but it seems to me that the hard work of
making batteries and mounting guns falls on the sailor, while the soldier
gets all the credit. It is not our admiral who sends the despatches, it is
the general. He may speak a few good words for the sailors, as a man
speaks up for a dog, but all the credit of the fighting, and the
surrender, and all that business goes to the soldiers. The sooner we sail
away from here, and do some fighting nearer home, where there are no
soldiers, and where the sailors get their due, the better pleased I shall
be.”
“Well, Dimchurch, I hope our turn out here is nearly finished. We may have
to take part in a few more attacks on French possessions, but as soon as
that work is over I have great hopes that we shall get sailing orders for
home again.”
Indeed, late in August a fast cruiser arrived with orders that the _Jason_
was at once to return to Brest and join the Channel fleet. To the great
delight of everyone the wind continued favourable throughout the whole
voyage, and after an exceptionally speedy passage they joined Admiral
Bridport, who was cruising off Ushant on the look-out for the French fleet
that was preparing for the invasion of Ireland.
The French fleet, under Admiral Morard-de-Galles, got under weigh from
Brest on 26th December, 1796. It consisted of seventeen ships of the line,
thirteen frigates, six corvettes, seven transports, and a powder-ship,
forty-four sail in all, conveying eight thousand troops under the command
of Generals Grouchy, Borin, and Humbert. Misfortune, however, dogged the
fleet from the very commencement, for the _Séduisant_, a seventy-four-gun
battle-ship, got on shore shortly after leaving Brest, and out of thirteen
hundred seamen and soldiers on board six hundred and eighty were drowned.
They were noticed by Vice-admiral Colpoys’ fleet, who sent off two
frigates to warn Lord Bridport, and after chasing the French for some
distance himself, sailed for Falmouth to report the setting out of the
expedition.
Admiral Bouvet, with thirty-two sail, managed to reach the mouth of Bantry
Bay, but the weather was so tempestuous that he was unable to land his
troops. After struggling for some days against this boisterous weather,
the fleet scattered, and the majority of the ships returned to Brest. The
rest reached the coast of Ireland, but not finding the main portion of
their fleet there, they returned to France.
The failure of the expedition was as complete as was that of the Spanish
Armada, and was due greatly to the same cause. Out of the forty-four ships
that sailed from Brest only thirty-one managed to return to France. The
British frigates, by the vigilance they displayed, had done good service,
cutting off four transports and three ships of war; but the stormy weather
had dispersed the expedition, and was accountable for the loss of two
battle-ships, three frigates, and a transport. It was curious that
although Lord Bridport’s fleet was constantly patrolling the Channel
during this time, the two fleets never came in contact.