THE _GALATEA_
[Sidenote: 1830. Portsmouth. Feb. 11, March 6.]
Joined _Galatea_, one of the Channel Squadron, Captain Charles Napier,
C.B.
Joined Lieutenant Alexander Cotton, in place of Lieutenant F. V. Cotton.
[Sidenote: March 11.]
We left Spithead to go to assistance of the _Wolf_, on shore at back of
Isle of Wight: with our boats, and assistance of dockyard lighters, she
was got off during afternoon of following day.
[Sidenote: Mar. 12.]
We returned through the Needles: in running for Spithead with signal
flying, “_Wolf_ saved,” we grounded on the Middle Bank. Still floated
however with rising tide.
[Sidenote: April 5.]
Weighed and ran through Needles Passage; next day becalmed; shipped
paddles, and worked them into Torbay. Sailed following day.
[Sidenote: April 9.]
Plymouth Sound. Saluted the flag of Earl of Northesk.
[Sidenote: June 3.]
On a fine day in June we performed one of those feats that astonished
our shore-going friends. On the 3rd at 3 A.M. the _Galatea_ was lying
at Spithead with royal yards across, and ready for sea. By noon she was
stripped to her gantlings, and the service on the collars of her lower
rigging was repaired. By 7 P.M. she was re-rigged and decks cleared,
supposed to be ready for sea.
[Sidenote: June 27.]
Hoisted colours half-mast on the death of His Majesty George IV.
[Sidenote: June 28.]
Yards manned, and a double royal salute fired on the accession of King
William IV.
[Sidenote: July 15.]
Fired thirty minute-guns on the interment of His late Majesty George IV.
[Sidenote: July 25.]
While off Brighton people visited the ship; mine was by way of being
the show cabin. I was struck by the appearance of a remarkably handsome
couple--alas! now no more. It was some time after that I found out they
were the parents of the present Admiral Heneage and his sister the
Countess of Essex.
[Sidenote: Aug. 16.]
On my father acquainting the king that he had three good horses for
the Goodwood Cup, asked by which horse His Majesty wished to win. “Win
by all three,” said the king. The horses came in in following manner:
Fleur de Lis, 1, Zingaree, 2, and Colonel, 3.
Our Captain had a hobby, which was that he could propel a ship with
paddles which could be easily fixed or withdrawn from a ship’s side.
They were to be propelled by iron winch-handles attached to stanchions
on either side of the main-deck. They did not succeed against the
slightest head-wind. He was much chaffed by the way he spelt the word
“winches” in his semi-official despatch to the Admiralty, which, he
said, “only required stout hands to lay into them.”
In those days any peer visiting a man-of-war was entitled to a salute.
It was my afternoon watch, when a boat from Ryde came alongside with a
party, which turned out to be Earl Spencer; no name better known or
more respected. On finding that the Captain was on shore, he inquired
if there was not a Lieutenant Keppel in the ship. Nothing could have
been kinder; he wanted to take me on shore with him to dine, but I
happened to be the senior officer in charge. I had the honour of
manning yards, and firing the last salute of many his lordship had had.
I need not say that I was relieved in ample time to enjoy an excellent
dinner. Lady Spencer, who was equally fond of the Navy, would have
taken care of me, but I had an appointment that night on the top
of Portsdown, where the famous fair was going on, having secured a
four-oared boat to cross the water, and a horse to take me to the hill.
Having two days’ leave, I drove a Gosport gig to Bishopstoke to visit
my worthy kinsman, Tom Garnier, Dean of Winchester. When I got back,
_Galatea_ had sailed for Lisbon. I was sorry; I wanted to see the place
I had heard so much of from my Portuguese schoolfellows, Alvaro Lopes
Pereira and Francisco Nunes Vizieu. The only thing they had to give me
an idea of the magnificence of Lisbon was an old print of the great
earthquake, which looked to me as if the churches and other buildings
were on a cruise in the Bay of Biscay.
Glanville was promoted from _Tweed_ and appointed to _Pallas_ (Captain
Lord Adolphus Fitz-Clarence), likewise of the Channel Squadron. A party
of us, Frank Scott, George Wodehouse, and self, got the then famous Ned
Neal from London to teach us the noble art of self-defence. We three
had lodgings in St. Thomas’s Street; Glanville was an experienced hand,
but took an interest in our training: there were many to instruct, and
Neal had his hands full.
Hands from the dockyard, after work, were rude, pushing us off the
pavement. However, science began to tell, but with me the wrong way.
Broken nose, upper lip twice cut then, and sewn up. After dark, parties
sallied forth from the “Keppel’s Head.” Both sides met at the Mill Dam,
a sort of neutral ground where constables could not interfere without
writs from both sides.
Tandems, too, were equal to the demand; one of us would drive Mr. Neal,
others acting as convoy as far as Chichester, and there entertain him.
On the whole, our pugilistic meets were conducted quietly; the dockyard
maties treated us more respectfully. In addition to self-defence we had
lessons in driving.
I used to pay half a guinea to Scarlett for being allowed the box-seat,
and to hold the heavy heads of seven or eight teams between Portsmouth
and London. The whip I learned to handle, but after a couple of stages
my arm ached and straightened. As for driving, the horses guided
themselves, and stopped of their own accord within an inch of where
they had to change.
Before the winter set in, Glanville and I determined to entertain Mr.
Ned Neal to a dinner at a respectable house called the Castle Tavern,
Holborn, kept by Mr. Thomas Winter, better known in the pugilistic
world as “Tom Spring.” I think we sat down twenty-two: nothing could
be more decorous. The “whips” exceeded the pugilists in number, but
harmony prevailed. Glanville had Faulkner, of the Rocket, and Tom
Spring, on his right and left, while I had Ned Neal, and the more
magnificent Mr. Scarlett, who was dressed in his usual drab breeches
and white stockings, neat shoes--I suppose he thought tops looked
too shoppy--buff vest, a voluminous white choker over a large plaited
frill. In addition, a flower-garden in the capacious breast of a blue
frock--all for the honour of the Portsmouth “Regulator.” There was
nothing to come near him. Mr. Neal was similar in the lower dress, but
wore a blue tie with small white spots--his own colours. I brought a
great favourite in T. P. Cooke.
The company for some time was very decorous. Ale enough to float a
jolly-boat, topped up with port wine for loyal toasts. Comic songs
finished the evening. Later, the idea of a naval entertainment drew a
cheery crowd outside the Castle Tavern.
[Sidenote: Sept. 10.]
_Galatea_ returned from Lisbon.
[Sidenote: Sept. 14.]
The Right Hon. John Wilson Croker visited the ship and inspected
paddles.
[Sidenote: Oct. 4.]
A garbled account of an accident which befell Lieutenant A. Cotton and
myself, prior to our departure for the West Indies, was published on
October 4 in the local paper.
What really happened was this: Cotton and self, leave up, had to return
on board. He had just taken leave of his parents at the George Hotel.
It was blowing fresh from the south; ebb-tide. We had hired one of the
Isle of Wight wherries. The Poole Packet, a large sailing cutter bound
same way, caught us at entrance of the harbour. There being no room
to spare, our helms were put down at the same time. The end of the
packet’s bowsprit, catching our wherry’s stern, lifted her end over end.
Being the lightest, I was sent farthest, which enabled me to clasp
the end of the cutter’s bowsprit as she dipped. I held on like grim
death, the wind preventing my voice being heard. Every plunge in the
necessarily short tacks ducked me under water.
[Illustration: _The Poole Packet._]
It was only when outside, and clear of the strength of the tide, that
one of the crew discovered and hauled me in. Well outside, we hailed a
man-of-war cutter; I got landed at the Point to look after my friend.
Boats having been at hand, no lives were lost. I found Billy spread out
on a table in a public-house, but, having imbibed something more to his
taste than salt water, he did not recognise me. I hurried off to let
his parents know he was safe. They had, however, left for Cambridge,
comfortably seated behind two pairs of posters.
We sailed that afternoon for Dover, returning to Spithead on the 10th.
[Sidenote: Nov. 14.]
We embarked Governor Sir John Hill and suite for passage to St.
Vincent. Received also smugglers for West Indian station.
A brother officer of mine once told a high personage that if the
service had its due the name of Keppel would not now be on the Navy
List. I perfectly agree with my friend, and should he take the trouble
to finish this chapter, he will be convinced how right he was. He has a
charming wife, and gives very good dinners. I have now, as I write, an
invitation to one.
[Sidenote: Dec. 17.]
On nearing the Tropic we were visited by Neptune, when much the same
eccentricities were performed as described in my account of the _Tweed_
when crossing the “Line.”
A spare topsail was lowered on to the main-deck, the leach-ropes
secured to coamings on upper deck, which when filled with water made
a respectable pond. It was my morning watch. I was contemplating this
bath, when one of the youngsters informed me that the Captain, who had
just come on deck, intended to push me in. Leaning over with hands on
my knees, I felt the sudden pressure on my right shoulder, which gave
way, and the Captain losing his balance, went in instead of me, his
shoes the last of him to disappear.
[Sidenote: 1831. Jan. 7.]
Arrived at Barbadoes.
In those days there were no facilities for watering; we had to hoist
our boom-boats, place in them water-casks which were filled at the most
convenient place to be found; generally near some stream running to the
sea.
This was the case at Barbadoes. The Second Master was sent with the
party. Late in the morning, the officer of the watch, thinking it time
a turn of water should be on its way, observed that not only were the
boats empty, but the crew were rolling about the beach. An officer
and party of marines were sent to bring them off. It was past the
dinner-hour, and Collier, the First Lieutenant, naturally much put out.
Two o’clock was our gunroom hour. Just as I had sat down, a mid
informed me that I was required to go for a turn of water. I was at
once, in cocked hat and side-arms, on deck.
I told Collier that, if he had consulted me, I could have informed him
that the tempting-looking green cocoanuts always tasted strong of new
rum. As it was, I had to go without my dinner. Not another word passed
between us.
Everything went smoothly. In an unusually short time I got back. The
Captain was on deck; I saw him coming, and thought he was going to
compliment me on the smart manner in which my turn of water had been
brought off. He always addressed me in broad Scotch, and began with:
“Meester Karpel, I understand that ye refused to gang for water when
ordered by the _Firrst_ Leaftenant.”
I was riled and hungry, and replied that if the First Lieutenant had
told him that, he had told an untruth.
Old Charlie was furious (I think he had had luncheon), ordered me to
my cabin, and to consider myself under close arrest, to be tried by
court-martial.
I was grieved and hurt, and brooded over my trouble as I took my
solitary meal. I felt, too, for Collier, who was a zealous and good
officer. I had many friends to condole with me--among others, a man
named Lane, whom I had known at Portsmouth; but I think he took his tea
a little too strong, and left our service. He was now mate of a fine
West Indiaman lying in the roads.
After a chat about old times, he supposed he could do nothing for me.
In reply, I thought he was the only person who _could_ do anything.
There were four men-of-war in the roads--_Mersey_, 26; _Ranger_, 28;
_Shannon_, 46--which ensured a dignity ball I meant to attend.
I proposed that at 10 P.M. my friend should have a small boat under the
starboard bow of the _Galatea_, with one hand only to land me, as well
as to take me off when I wanted.
Lane knew remonstrance was useless. After the Master-at-Arms had looked
into my cabin at 10 P.M., and reported “Prisoner safe” to the officer
of the watch, I changed into white frock and trousers, put clothes
bag between the sheets, my shoes outside to be cleaned, passed the
gunroom door sentry as an officer’s servant, bumped under the hammocks
on starboard side of the lower deck, up the fore ladder, through
the bow-port, dropped into my boat, was up the wooden steps of the
landing-place; then there was “such a getting upstairs and a playing
of the fiddle.” I was in the giddy throng doing the double shuffle
opposite a dark beauty, when the name of Old Charlie was called out.
He was not difficult to spot. He threw his coat and epaulettes into a
corner, and was at once performing the Scotch shuffle in my set; in
crossing over for the change, I was collared by my shipmates and pushed
out.
[Illustration: _The Dignity Ball._]
I thought to retrace my steps, when on the landing, which was well
lighted, who should I run against but Captain George Courtney, of the
_Mersey_, with whom Napier had dined! He recognised me in spite of my
disguise. I had known him as the friend of my late kind Captain, Lord
John Churchill. He accosted me with:
“Your name’s Keppel. You are under arrest.”
I touched my hat and said, “Yes; but you won’t say anything.”
He answered, “Get on board as soon as you can, or you will lose your
commission.”
I followed his advice and retraced my steps.
[Sidenote: Jan. 8.]
The next morning I ascertained the prisoner had been reported “Safe”
throughout the night.
[Sidenote: Jan. 9.]
We sailed for St. Vincent the following day. Before landing our
Governor, Sir John Hill, under a salute, with yards manned, he visited
my cabin in full dress.
[Sidenote: Jan. 11.]
We had been on very friendly terms. I see his cocked hat now, with its
fringe of white feathers. He said how sorry he had been on hearing from
the Captain that he had been obliged to place me under arrest, and had
interceded for me.
Captain Napier had given him permission to say that if I would make a
proper apology to the First Lieutenant I should be allowed to return to
my duty.
[Sidenote: Jan. 12.]
Next morning I was sent for to the Captain’s cabin, where I found
Collier. My previous good conduct enabled the Captain to state that, if
I would only express my regret, I might return to my duty. I thanked
the Captain, said I had already written a letter applying for a
court-martial, and that the apology must be made to me.
[Sidenote: Jamaica]
Next day, before arrival at Port Royal, I was ordered to return to
duty. Three years later, at the Old Navy Club in Bond Street, when I
was a Commander, we dined together, and I told him the whole story. Of
course, he was going to try me by court-martial then and there!
While on this station I had the opportunity of making acquaintance with
an interesting people--the Creoles of our West Indies.
These kind people seemed to live by and for the Navy. The wars of the
eighteenth century threw money into their hands, and during Rodney’s
time the ladies gradually lost their dark polish. Commencing as
washerwomen, and supplying officers’ messes, they accumulated money.
Some of them became the owners of slaves. In Jamaica, years after they
had grown into colonists, many emigrated to other islands under our
flag rather than mix with the sugar-planting negroes. But it was by
their cleanliness, kindness, and attention to sick or wounded that they
became so necessary and were the means of saving many lives. It was not
only at Barbadoes, but at Port Royal, Jamaica, St. Vincent, and St.
Lucia that these ladies used to hold their levees and talk freely of
their absent aristocratic relations.
Miss Betsy Austin and Miss Nancy Pugett were celebrated during my time.
They had much dignity, and kept a large number of servants.
On one occasion, when I could not answer for the whereabouts of her
aristocratic son-in-law, Miss Nancy Pugett hazarded the opinion that
“He had gone Norf shoot ’em grouse!”
[Sidenote: Port Royal, Jamaica, Jan. 21.]
Refitted in a few days. Received invalids and officers for passage to
England.
[Sidenote: Jan. 24.]
Weighed with convoy, who parted company as convenient to themselves.
[Sidenote: Feb. 5.]
Anchored off Tampico Bar. Surf too high to admit of landing. Northerly
gale. Ship rolling heavily. Topmasts struck.
[Sidenote: Feb. 14.]
Sailed.
[Sidenote: Off Sacrificios, Feb. 16.]
Unbent sails. Our boats refitted; lower rigging requiring to be turned
in afresh after the stretching off Tampico. Found United States
corvette _Natchetts_ here.
[Sidenote: Feb. 19.]
During my afternoon watch a young officer from the American ship
came on board. He was anxious to speak to our senior midshipman. I
sent to my old friend, Arthur Noad, and introduced them. The officer
stated, “We have received orders from our Congress to amalgamate with
you Britishers, and shall be glad to see you all at dinner on board
our ship.” The following day those who could be spared attended the
invitation. Their midshipmen’s berth, like our own, was on the lower
deck, thrown open for air by the upper part of the bulkhead being on
hinges.
The dinner was good, and a nice feeling and understanding existed.
After dinner the Chairman filled his glass, and proposed “King
and President,” which was drunk with enthusiasm by all, save one
ultra-sensitive American, who, holding up his glass, said, “Here’s to
the President. The King I shall place in the steerage,” chucking at the
same moment the remainder of his wine. The rest of the party broke up
in mutual good humour.
Two days afterwards our mids gave a return dinner, and invited the
gentlemen of the corvette; begging, however, to except the one who had
flung the King in the steerage.
I happened, as before, to be officer of the watch when the excluded mid
came on board and requested an interview with our senior midshipman.
I sent for Noad. The American informed him that he considered he had
been grossly insulted, and demanded satisfaction from one and all the
British midshipmen. I informed the Captain what had happened, who
ordered his gig to be manned, and, directing me to detain the officer,
went on board the _Natchetts_. He returned shortly followed by her
Captain, who asked permission to bring an armed boat alongside, in
which had been placed the chest and other effects of the contumacious
officer.
We found afterwards that the poor fellow had been landed on the
mainland, south of Sacrificios. Considering the character of the
Spanish-Mexican on that coast, it would have been kinder to have kept
his chest and saved his head. Had our Captain been aware of the poor
fellow’s possible fate, intercession would have been made.
[Sidenote: Feb. 16.]
Came to off Tampico Bar. As we were to be here for some time, I
obtained leave for Tennant, one of our mates, to accompany me on an
excursion up the river.
We hired a roomy canoe. Our crew consisted of one young and active
Mexican, his arms, a couple of paddles and a long pole. Our kitchen, a
large iron kettle which stood on a flat stone. We had our mattresses
and mosquito-curtains.
For young sportsmen nothing could be more interesting. The variety of
birds in a tropical climate is extraordinary--curlew and cranes, herons
and storks, parrots and pigeons, ducks with canvas-backs, sea-gulls,
with hawks and eagles to watch over them; porpoises and alligators. The
scenery changed with nearly every bend of the river--patches of jungle
and inland swamp: at all eligible spots, haciendas.
A trifle of money supplied us with eggs and milk, ham and garlic. At
night our canoe was secured to its pole a few yards from the bank,
which saved us visits from an occasional alligator. From the haciendas
we got a variety of deer’s horns merely for taking them away; and
though neither of us spoke Spanish, it was wonderful how soon our
“crew” understood what we wanted. By the time we got back to the ship
we had exceeded our leave by two days.
[Sidenote: Mar. 4.]
We found in our absence the Prince of Würtemburg had visited the ship,
and been received with royal honours.
[Sidenote: Mar. 26.]
A bar at the mouth of a large river is more than a seaman can manage;
the fresh water, trying to force its way into the sea, meets resistance
at points which vary and cause change and position of shoals. River and
sea meeting cause a rise which the occupants of boats cannot see over.
I was sent with the next water-party, consisting of launch, pinnace,
and cutter, myself in a gig. We were clear of the ship just before
daybreak. A nice sea-breeze had set in; not fresh enough to carry a
heavy boat through surf under sail, but sufficient to render pulling
easy. Before nearing the breakers we assembled within hail, that I
might let the officers in charge know what I had noticed during the
weeks we were here in the _Tweed_, as I wished each to use his own
discretion before entering a surf through which no one could see.
“When a wave is rolling in, do not follow close. Directly the crest
of a high wave breaks, its strength diminishes. On entering breakers
keep well clear of one another. The most treacherous of all is a dark
wall of water, which forms at some distance to seaward--say a cable’s
length. It increases in speed and height without apparent cause. Get to
sea beyond the low ends without delay.”
After this sermon I saw the boats separate to select their points
of entrance, and observed young Carrington, in the cutter, select a
place I should have chosen myself, then lost sight of him. On casting
a look to seaward, I found myself caught in the same sort of trap of
which I had given them warning. There was the dark ridge of unbroken
water approaching, and increasing in speed. No time to be lost; head,
luckily, in-shore, mast stept, sail hoisted, halyards and sheet led
aft, which passed under the thwart I held with one hand, tiller ropes
in the other: crew on either side dropped in the water, holding on with
one hand.
[Illustration: _Crossing Tampico Bar._]
Directly I found the wave was carrying us as fast as the wind, I let go
the halyards.
The next moment we were over the bar. A heavier boat must have been
lost.
Our danger was past, but the cutter had been upset. Three of her crew
on shore, were holding the legs of young Carrington up to let the water
run out,--and I too late to save the brightest youngster we had in the
ship.
I detained the assistant-surgeon and sent the heavy boats up for
water. Five of the cutter’s crew were missing, and as the current
naturally set to the southward, the doctor accompanied me along the
beach in search of the missing bodies.
[Sidenote: March 26, 27.]
By noon I had received a sunstroke, and was down in an empty hut near
the beach. The raised surf prevented our being visible from the ship,
but fruit and fresh water were obtained; and by sunset I recovered. In
the morning I was able to join boats as they returned on board.
[Sidenote: Mar. 28.]
Sailed.
[Sidenote: April 9.]
Arrived at Havana. I found the miscalculation of leave at Tampico
prevented my being able to select cigars, but kind shipmates got me the
best for friends at home.
[Sidenote: April 11.]
Sailed for England.
[Sidenote: May 6.]
Arrived at Spithead. Found some amusement in smuggling my good tobacco
on shore, and still more in delivering it to old friends, some of which
contraband found its way to Kensington Palace!
[Sidenote: May 16.]
Once at home, I did not find much difficulty in being placed on
half-pay.
However I soon heard of a ship fitting out at Woolwich that I much
fancied: a razéed frigate, the _Magicienne_.