The prizes he with him brought away while sailors were huzzaing.
And when they to Jamaica come, a glorious tale to tell O
Of the noble action they had done in taking of Porto Bello.
To Admiral Vernon toss off a glass, may heaven protect and defend
him,
And when he has the Spaniard thump’d, may a safe return attend him
To Comodore Brown toss another down, and to each gallant fellow
Who did so bravely play their parts at the taking of Porto Bello.
_HOSIER’S GHOST._
To the Tune of _Come and Listen to My Ditty_.
As near Porto Bello lying
On the gently swelling flood,
At midnight, with streamers flying,
Our triumphant navy rode;
There while Vernon sat all glorious
From the Spaniards’ late defeat,
And his crew with shouts victorious,
Drank success to England’s fleet,
On a sudden shrilly sounding,
Hideous yells and shrieks were heard;
Then, each heart with fear confounding,
A sad troop of ghosts appear’d,
All in dreary hammocks shrouded,
Which for winding-sheets they wore,
And with looks by sorrow clouded,
Frowning on that hostile shore.
On them gleam’d the moon’s wan lustre,
When the shade of Hosier brave
His pale band was seen to muster,
Rising from their watery grave.
O’er the glimmering wave he hied him,
Where the _Burford_ rear’d her sail,
With three thousand ghosts beside him,
And in groans did Vernon hail.
‘Heed, O heed our fatal story,--
I am Hosier’s injur’d ghost,--
You who now have purchased glory
At this place where I was lost!
Though in Porto Bello’s ruin
You now triumph free from fears,
When you think on our undoing,
You will mix your joy with tears.
‘See these mournful spectres sweeping
Ghastly o’er this hated wave,
Whose wan cheeks are stain’d with weeping--
These were English captains brave!
Mark those numbers pale and horrid--
Those were once my sailors bold!
Lo! each hangs his drooping forehead,
While his dismal tale is told.
‘I by twenty sail attended
Did this Spanish town affright:
Nothing then its wealth defended
But my orders not to fight.
Oh! that in this rolling ocean
I had cast them with disdain,
And obey’d my heart’s warm motion,
To have quell’d the pride of Spain!
‘For resistance I could fear none,
But with twenty ships had done
What thou, brave and happy Vernon,
Hast achieved with six alone.
Then the Bastimentos never
Had our foul dishonour seen,
Nor the sea the sad receiver
Of this gallant train had been.
‘Thus, like thee proud Spain dismaying,
And her galleons leading home,
Though condemn’d for disobeying,
I had met a traitor’s doom;
To have fallen, my country crying,
He has play’d an English part,
Had been better far than dying,
Of a griev’d and broken heart.
‘Unrepining at thy glory,
Thy successful arms we hail;
But remember our sad story,
And let Hosier’s wrongs prevail.
Sent in this foul clime to languish,
Think what thousands fell in vain,
Wasted with disease and anguish,
Not in glorious battle slain.
‘Hence with all my train attending,
From their oozy tombs below,
Through the hoary foam ascending,
Here I feed my constant woe:
Here the Bastimentos viewing,
We recall our shameful doom,
And, our plaintive cries renewing,
Wander through the midnight gloom.
‘O’er these waves for ever mourning
Shall we roam depriv’d of rest,
If to Britain’s shores returning
You neglect my just request.
After this proud foe subduing,
When your Patriot friends you see,
Think on vengeance for my ruin,
And for England sham’d in me!’
_VERNON’S GLORY: OR, THE SPANIARDS’ DEFEAT._
Being an account of the taking of Carthagena by Vice-Admiral Vernon,
Rear-Admiral Ogle, and Commodore Lestock, on the First of April last.
Written by a sailor on board the _Shrewsbury_, and brought over by the
_Spence_ sloop.
Tune of _Brave Vernon’s Triumph_.
Once more, brave boys, let us proclaim
Brave noble Admiral Vernon’s fame,
With Sir Chaloner Ogle too:
They now have made the Spaniards rue;
For Carthageen they now have ta’en,
And laid it level with the ground;
Seven castles so brave their town could not save,
For Vernon and Ogle have beat them down.
Last March we did from Jamaica sail
With a fair and gentle gale;
Vice-Admiral Vernon of the Blue,
Sir Chaloner Ogle, Rear-Admiral too,
With Lestock Commodore, we made our cannons roar,
And two-and-twenty frigates besides:
Thirty ships of the line, a sight very fine,
Before Carthageen at anchor to ride.
Bocachica Castle first we took,
Which made the Spaniards blue to look;
That being of the largest force,
The other six did fall of course:
With our cannons and bombs we dismounted their guns,
And our colours did on their Castles raise:
Then toss off a glass, and about let it pass,
To Admiral Vernon’s and Ogle’s praise.
For twelve hours’ space we bombarded the town,
Before we brought their proud spirits down;
We fir’d so smart that they thought we were mad,
At length to surrender they were glad.
We did so cannonade, and such breaches we made,
And many of their houses set in a flame;
They did submit to fate, and the town surrender[ed]
To Admiral Vernon, the scourge of Spain.
The _Shrewsbury_ she did suffer most,
And many of her sailors were lost;
Her cable broke, on the Castles she drove,
And there expected she would have stove;
But kind Providence stood in her defence:
Much shatter’d at last she clear’d her way.
Her jolly sailors bold, those noble hearts of gold,
All the time shew’d the Spaniards gallant play.
Don Blass with six ships in the harbour lay,
And soon we shew’d him British play;
We made that proud and hectoring Don
Coward-like from his ship to run;
Tho’ his ship he forsook, two captains we took
And unto England brought them home;
Let th’ insulting foe and proud Don know
Vernon can conquer wherever he comes.
Six galleons did there remain,
Which by our fleet were burnt or ta’en:
And tho’ their treasure was on shore
Yet we found a sufficient store;
For plunder, my boys, did crown our joys
After that strong place we had won:
We did revel and roar and booze it on shore,
And forgot all the dangers we had run.
In the king’s store-house we found
The value of several thousand pounds,
Which with great joy we brought away,
And did on board our ships convey:
Our success was crown’d with plunder we found,
While the cowardly Spaniards from us fled;
So great was their fear, they would not us come near,
For Vernon had fill’d them all with dread.
When we had all their treasure seiz’d,
And freely plunder’d where we pleas’d,
And none but rubbish did remain,
Their store-houses we set on flames:
Thus we burnt them down quite unto the ground:
A heap of ashes for to view;
Let the cowards know, tho’ they did insult us so,
What noble Admiral Vernon can do.
Our jolly tars, brave, noble hearts,
And the brave marines did play their parts;
The officers their orders gave,
Which the men performed as brave.
They never did flinch, nor gave back an inch,
But sweet revenge was all their cry:
They scorn’d for to run from the mouth of a gun,
But with Vernon and Ogle would conquer or die.
For the proud Queen of Spain we care not a fart!
For Carthageen she may break her heart;
Of Don Blass, that cowardly tool,
Brave Vernon did make an April fool:
For ’twas upon that day we made him run away,
Unto our noble admiral’s fame:
Then fill a brimming glass, and round let it pass,
To Admiral Vernon and Ogle’s name.
Come, brave boys, a health begin,
And fill your glasses to the brim;
A health to Admiral Vernon brave;
To Sir Chaloner Ogle another we’ll have;
To each jolly tar and marine that was there,
Whose courage the[n] was bravely seen;
To Lestock, Commodore, and many thousands more,
Who assisted at taking of Carthageen.
_THE SAPHIRAH [sic] IN TRIUMPH: OR, BRITISH VALOR DISPLAY’D._
Compos’d by James Craft, who lost his arm in the action.
Come you jovial British fellows, listen, pray, to what I write,
Honour jolly English sailors, for their nation they do fight;
It was with courage most undaunted from Port Rhode the _Sapphire_
sail’d,
By mishap our cable parted, but we soon the Spaniards quell’d.
A full intent to batter Vigo, our full force was only forty guns,
Which to them does plainly show, sir, what courage in the English
runs;
With spreading sails we plough’d the ocean, the seas indeed ran
mountains high,
Not fearing death to gain promotion, with proud Spain our valour try.
All along their coast we sailed, the wind it blowed very hard;
Our main-top-sail yard it failed, but we it did not regard.
We did soon their harbour enter, they prepared for us were,
And we boldly in did venture without any dread or fear.
As soon as ever we came nigh them they did fire at us first;
We not wanting to pass by them immediately our anchor cast.
And up went our bloody pennant and defy’d their cannon-ball,
We made to run both landlord and tenant, and behind to leave their
all.
No quarters from them we requir’d, they did see us boldly bent;
Kill or be kill’d we designed, that indeed was our intent.
Then our cannon roar’d like thunder, sweeter musick who could hear?
They did make our foes to wonder, fill’d their hearts with dread
and fear.
Their privateers at anchor lying we did sink before their face;
Women with their children crying from the town did run a-pace.
By us their prison was confounded: to some it proved a happy day;
Such as were not kill’d or wounded took to their heels and run away.
Their nunnery did feel our fury, their blind zeal could not them
save;
Some in confusion and great hurry were sent by us to their grave.
About their ears their houses tumbled, which no doubt did grieve
them sore;
Was ever haughty Spain so humbled by one small ship as now before?
Two thousand shot and more we fir’d at their churches, forts, and
town,
It made us laugh till we were tir’d to see their houses tumble down:
Seventeen hundred and forty-four, sir, January the fifteenth day,
That we made the Spaniards rue, sir, our most noble British play.
We had in this bold action one man killed, and no more;
Which I think was enough to vex ’em, they having many in their gore.
Had the day but longer lasted, and our ship not damnify’d,
We’d made them surrender, we protested, or would all have surely
dy’d.
We then soon for Lisbon sailed, where we got wine our hearts to
cheer.
At Vigo widows their fates bewailed, and curst the time that we
came there.
I wish that all our brave commanders, who sail the seas for
Britain’s right,
May like bold Holmes prove Alexanders, not fearing death when they
do fight.
May he meet with a just treatment from our nation for the same,
For so bold and brave defeatment none but cowards can him blame.
Little Laughton, our third lieutenant, did at that time great
valour show;
King and country’s bold defendant, beloved by all that does him
know.
Bring us wine, let it be sherry, fill the glass up to the brink;
Drown all sorrows and be merry; to our noble captain drink.
Pray God send our royal master George the Second long to reign,
For to meet with no disaster, but the victory always gain.
_ADMIRAL MATTHEWS’ ENGAGEMENT AGAINST THE COMBINED FLEETS OF FRANCE
AND SPAIN._
Brave Admiral Matthews has been on the main,
With a true British heart, against France and Spain;
Resolving to fight for old England once more,
And make them knock under before he gives o’er;
For there never was such a bold fleet, as they say,
Sent out by Old England this many a day.
He had not long been on the sea, it is true,
Before [that] in sight there appear’d in his view
Twenty-eight sail of the French and proud Spain,
Who swiftly w[ere] sailing along the salt main.
Then he cry’d, ‘My brave boys, look, see how they ride!
I hope in small time we shall soon cool their pride.’
We hoisted our sails, and away then we went,
With our guns all ready, and hearts likewise bent,
Until that we come to the view of them all;
Then strait our brave admiral unto us did call,
At the word of command to make ready with speed,
‘For I think the proud Dons will fight us indeed.’
But the wind prov’d contrary, we could not pursue,
Altho’ that we had them so full in our view;
And for to deceive us they did lay in wait,
Thinking we should follow them up to the Straits:
Though our good God was pleas’d to alter the wind,
Yet fortune unto us it proved unkind.
There is an old proverb I’ve lately thought on,
‘When you think of a friend you’re sure to find none’;
For when that I thought to see Lestock come by,
He was five miles a distance, and would not come nigh;
But for all that misfortune, we never could start,
We pursued after them with a true British heart.
A mile’s distance next day, they at us did fire,
But in half an hour we to them drew nigher,
Until that we came within pistol-shot,
Then we did let fly; and why should we not?
As we sent ’em one broadside, another did come,
Which made our cannons [to] play, bomb! bomb!
Our admiral then took his glass in his hand,
To espy what he could, as you shall understand;
A double shot came unto him so nigh,
That it took off the place where his arm did lye.
But for that misfortune, and all that foul play,
He held ’em six hours in hot battle that day.
The night being come, they straightway gave o’er,
And went off with their cripples; we see ’em no more.
But now that the war is proclaim’d against France,
When we see them again we’ll make ’em to prance;
And if ever they into our presence do come,
We’ll make our cannons play ‘Britons, strike home.’
Then straightway we left them in grief to complain,
Whilst we are carousing along the salt main.
Pray God bless our fleet, and his Majesty too,
And grant them success wherever they go.
Concluding as this, and my song to end,
In Matthews’ brave ship these verses were penn’d.
_A NEW SONG IN PRAISE OF BRAVE CAPTAIN HORNSBY._
Come all you brave sailors that plough on the main,
And hear of the brave Captain Hornsby by name;
How bravely he acted and play’d his own part,
That he made the proud Frenchmen to quake in their hearts.
The French captain came up, and said, ‘You English dog, strike.’
‘Not so,’ said brave Hornsby, ‘I first chuse to fight,
To strike to a Frenchman I hold it so base,
That I rather chuse to die in this place.’
The Frenchmen then boarded his vessel straightway,
And brave Captain Hornsby did shew them fine play;
He fought them five hours, five hours or more,
’Till thirty-six Frenchmen lay dead in their gore.
All the men that he had on his ship were but eight,
And yet to a Frenchman he scorn’d for to strike;
Tho’ he had but one man for the Frenchman’s ten,
He both burnt his vessel and drown’d all his men.
Come, all ye brave sailors that plough on the main,
Remember the brave Captain Hornsby, by name;
And if that a Frenchman commands you to strike,
Give answer like Hornsby, you first chuse to fight.
If you take a good courage, and have a strong faith,
Trust in your Creator, he’ll ne’er you forsake;
If you have but one man for the Frenchman’s ten,
You may both sink his vessel and drown all his men.
Now brave Captain Hornsby, as I have been told,
Has got as a present a medal of gold;
Besides a fine chain of gold so bright,
Because the proud French he so bravely did fight.
Likewise every man in his ship, as we hear,
Has had five pounds paid him down for his share;
The boys forty shillings a piece they have got
For standing so bravely against the French shot.
Now all you brave heroes that heareth this song,
I beg you excuse if any, thing be wrong;
For I am no poet, nor scholar I swear,
But I love loyal subjects I vow and declare.
So let’s all in the praise of Hornsby now sing,
For whom bonfires did blaze, and bells they did ring;
To hear of this battle so gallantly got,
And he and his men so preserved from the shot.
And now to conclude of brave Hornsby so bold,
I wish he was master of a million of gold;
For fighting so boldly against the proud French,
And laying them low in a watery trench.
Tho’ he had but one man to the Frenchman’s ten,
Yet he sunk both his vessel, and drown’d all his men.
_CAPTAIN COBB’S BRAVERY._
Captain Cobb in Lynn doth dwell, a man of worthy fame,
He went on board the bold _Bacchus_, a ship of lovely fame, _fal
lal lal, etc._
From Lynn to Port there we were bound, and for to load with wine;
And as we were returning home, a privateer espyed.
Our master bold said, ‘Every man stand true [un]to his gun;
And let us give them a full broadside, and see if we can them shun.’
No sooner we had fired at them, but the Spaniards returned the same;
We tacked our ship about again, and gave them [a]thump for their
pain.
The second broadside the Spaniard [fired] they wounded our captain
sore,
‘For quarters, quarters,’ our captain [cried]; ‘No, damn it,’ the
boatswain swore,
‘Go you down into your cabin, and leave all things to me;
I’ll warrant I’ll make them all stand true, and will gain the
victory.’
We had no more than fourteen men, and two boys which made sixteen;
We fought with a hundred and twenty-four men, and cleared our way
of them.
There were thirty of them boarded us, a dreadful sight to see,
I could not get my gun to fire, and sore it did grieve me.
A blunderbuss I took in hand, and did them sweetly bang;
Some we drove into the sea, and some on the deck lay slain.
And the rest of them that was left alive, their arms we took from
them;
And stowed them close down in their hold, till to England we came.
We began at four in the afternoon, and fought while eight at night;
And before we had fired at her larboard side on her we ’spyed a
light.
No sooner [had] we fired at her, no more of her we could see,
God knows whether we sunk her, or whether she run away.
The Heavens above alone did us love, o’er our enemies to prevail;
So we set sail and away we came, with a fine and pleasant gale.
When to old England we come, and our merchants do hear of the same,
I hope they will some kindness shew, and reward us for our pains.
If every Englishman like us would fight upon the sea,
They need not fear to sail the seas, nor to face the enemy.
_THE PRINCESS ROYAL’S ESCAPE FROM THE GOODWIN SANDS._
Come all you jolly sailors that to the seas are bent,
I’ll tell you of a story that shall make your hearts relent,
It’s of the _Princess Royal_, that gallant ship of fame,
Commanded by bold Captain Lee by name.
On the seventh of February from the Nore we did sail,
Our topsails a flying with a fine and pleasant gale,
But no further then the Gun-fleet that night could we go
Where we lost our pinnace and three men in her also.
So then for the Gun-fleet we quickly did sail,
All for the Downs with a fine and pleasant gale,
And when we came down there our orders were so,
No further then the Downs our ship was to go,
And there for to wait to join our fleet,
All with Sir John Norris the French fleet to meet.
On the seventh day our fleet they came in,
Expecting at Dungeness the French fleet to trim.
So then from the Downs we quickly did sail,
All for Dungeness the French to prevail,
But then off Folkstone we was forc’d to bring to,
Where the French fleet did appear in our view.
Our captain on board the admiral he went,
To let him know our losses it was our full intent,
The admiral he order’d us to Spithead with speed,
But our thiler being broke we turn’d back again.
Four anchors we lost which grieved us full sore,
To think we had but one anchor and cable more,
So we stear’d for the Downs and when we came there
We let go our last anchor in despair.
Right on the Goodwin Sands O the wind it did blow,
Which fill’d our whole ship’s company all full of woe.
But thanks be to God our cable it did hold,
Which saved the lives of so many sailors bold.
So now my lads since the danger it is o’er,
How merry we will be boys if e’er we get on shore,
With full flowing bowls the bumpers shall go round
With our lasses upon our knees our sorrows to drown.
So now to conclude and end my song,
It was a brisk young sailor unto the ship belong’d
It was a brisk young sailor that these lines did make,
And o’er a can of flip his heart would never ake.
_THE LOSS OF THE VICTORY MAN-OF-WAR._
Good people all, pray give attention, to this fatal tragedy,
Which I am bound to mention of the gallant _Victory_:
Fourteen hundred souls did perish, and are to the bottom gone,
Oh! the dismal grief and horror of their widows left alone.
When we first from Spithead sailed, convoy unto Lisbon bound,
They with good flip and punch regaled a brave new ship both right
and sound:
A hundred and ten guns she mounted, all of brass so smart and clean,
The best ship in the Navy counted, but alas! no more is seen.
But the voyage proved fatal, as by the sequel we shall find,
For as she was home returning, she was off Scilly left behind
In a dreadful storm of lightning, and of hail and thunder too,
And has never since been heard of, the fatherless have cause to rue,
From Alderney we’ve information that they heard that stormy night,
At least ninety guns to fire which did them something affright:
But as the more the storm increased it gave them more room to guess
That some ship upon the ocean, was in sad and deep distress.
We saw floating some days after some spare yards were drove on shore,
On which was the name _Victory_, this gave us suspicion more:
That the noble ship was stranded on the Gaskets was our fear,
Long we waited with impatience, but no news of them could hear.
The brave gallant Admiral Balchen with fourteen hundred men beside,
If she’s lost, went to the bottom, and all at once together died:
Oh! the dismal grief and horror if one had been there to see,
How they all were struck with horror when sunk down the _Victory_.
O! the sad and dismal story, I’m griev’d when I the same relate,
So many blasted in their glory and at once shared the same fate:
Some thinking on their wives and children, and some on their
parents dear,
Sunk to the bottom in a moment, and no time to say a prayer.
O _Victory_! thou wast unlucky, but once before was out at sea,
In the night run foul of the _Lion_, and her carved work took away:
Now thou art gone to the bottom with a jovial company,
An admiral, marines and sailors, most unhappy _Victory_!
Oh! the grief of mournful widows, and their children fatherless,
And the grief of tender parents, is more than what I can express:
Some lamenting for their sweethearts overwhelm’d with grief we see,
Each one laments his dear relation, Oh! the fatal _Victory_!
Children crying for their fathers, widows weeping in distress,
God will surely be their comfort, and protect the fatherless.
He’ll be a husband to the widow that loves honest industry,
And does give them His protection; farewell fatal _Victory_!
_DISCONSOLATE JUDY’S LAMENTATION FOR THE ABSENCE OF HER TRUE LOVE
JOHNNY, ON BOARD THE VICTORY, WITH ADMIRAL BALCHEN, NOW MISSING._
Tune of _Down by a Crystal River Side_.
Come pity me, young maidens all,
Who am brought into wretched thrall,
My love was prest away to sea,
And is on board the _Victory_.
When of him I did take my leave,
He said, ‘Dear Judy, do not grieve;
Altho’ I absent from you be,
Stout is our ship, the _Victory_.
‘Brave Balchen is a gallant man,
And will conduct us safe to land;
Then my dear Judy I shall see,
When safe returns the _Victory_.’
Ah! John, indeed my heart did fail,
When you to Lisbon was to sail,
For dangers they are great at sea,
Oh! now where is the _Victory_.
O John, my lovely sailor dear,
My heart is sore opprest with fear;
A letter, true love, send to me,
From on board the _Victory_.
No cruel balls has hurt my dear,
No fatal rocks you have come near,
Nor taken by an enemy,
You nor the gallant _Victory_.
Nine hundred men on board you have,
A jolly crew both stout and brave
As ever did go out to sea,
God send safe home the _Victory_.
Dear Johnny, I at Portsmouth wait,
And watch for you early and late,
Wishing each moment for to see
Come sailing in the _Victory_.
_ENGLAND’S GLORY; OR THE FRENCH KING STRIPPED._
Being a new song compos’d by Capt. Roberts, in praise of those bold
sailors belonging to the _Prince Frederick_, and _Duke_ Privateers,
who took the two French ships with forty five waggon loads of money on
board, which was brought through the City in triumph to the Tower.
Tune of _Avast! Honest Mess-mate_.
Come all you jolly seamen, that’s willing to enter
On board of the _Duke_, your lives for to venture,
On board of the _Duke_, she’s called by name,
She cruizes the seas for old England’s fame.
_Fal, etc._
The fourth day of May from the Downs we set sail,
O, we were blest with a very fine gale:
And with the _Prince Frederick_ being our Commodore,
We steered away, boys, for the Canary shore.
_Fal, etc._
The tenth day of July, it being very clear,
We espy’d three ships belonging to Mounsieur;
O, these three ships were coming from Peru,
With gold and silver, boys, all in our view.
_Fal, etc._