A FIRMER RULE.
At the beginning of the year 1793, then, while the relations of this
country with France were quickly growing desperate, the two statesmen
who, according to the custom of the time, jointly filled the office of
Postmaster General, were engaged in endeavouring to set their Department
in order, and to reduce the expenses of administration, as the House of
Commons Committee had directed.
The difficulty of any interference in a system which had grown up
through a whole century was obviously very great. Malpractices which
four generations of officers at Falmouth had learned to regard as their
natural privileges would not be given up at the first word of rebuke
from headquarters. The profits of smuggling would not be dropped without
a struggle. Laxity of discipline, remissness, carelessness of the credit
of the Department—these were faults which, where they existed, could be
cured only by a firm rule and in course of years. One decision had,
however, been taken, and was already being carried out, from which
important results proceeded, and which upon the whole effected much
good.
Throughout the whole existence of the Falmouth Packets up to this time
it had scarcely been questioned that on the long Atlantic voyages the
safety of the mails was directly proportionate to the heaviness of the
armament. The West India merchants were perpetually forcing this point
on the Postmaster General, and whenever a mail for Barbados or Jamaica
was lost, the General Post-Office was beset with an indignant throng of
merchants, loudly demanding that more and more guns should be assigned
to every Packet which had to run the gauntlet of the West India Islands.
The influence of wealthy merchants upon the Post-Office is perhaps in
our own day as great as is convenient. But a hundred years ago it was
infinitely greater. For the General Post-Office, which has now grown
into something resembling a populous town, was then itself scarcely
larger than the office of any considerable merchant. Between St.
Martin’s le Grand, as we know it, and the office of whatever city firm,
there may be interchange of views, but there can be no intimate
association; and it is exactly this which existed between the
Post-Office in Lombard Street, in 1793, and the neighbouring offices,
which were as large, if not as important, as itself.
The Post-Office Packets in those days were carriers of news as well as
of the mails. The officers had instructions to record most carefully in
their journals full details of any events of public importance occurring
in the countries which they visited. These journals, which frequently
contained news later and more authentic than any which had yet reached
London, were sent up from Falmouth immediately after the arrival of the
Packets, and lay at the Post-Office open to the inspection of the
merchants, who were thus continually in the office, inquiring and
commenting on every detail connected with the administration of the
Packets, proffering suggestions, and criticizing in season and out of
season.
This constant association with the clerks of the Post-Office placed in
the hands of the West India merchants very great opportunities of
pressing their views about the armament of the Packets, and they did
press them with such pertinacity and vehemence that it must have
required courage on the part of Lords Chesterfield and Carteret to
announce the resolution not to increase those armaments, but to cut them
down, and to send the Packets to sea in future totally unfit to resist
Privateers of their own size.
Such was the new policy, arranged in concert with the Navy Board. It was
not lacking in audacity. The Packets stationed at Falmouth were of
different sizes and varying rig. In future, all new vessels were to be
of a certain fixed design, of 179 tons burden, carrying a crew of
twenty-eight men and boys, with four 4–pounders, two 6–pounders, for use
as chasers, and a proportionate quantity of small arms.
A vessel armed and manned in this way was clearly not a fair match for
any but the smallest class of French or Spanish Privateer. My Lords the
Postmaster General admitted this, and stated that their reliance was on
the capacity of the new Packets to outsail their enemies. The most
patient thought had been given to the selection of the model. It was
believed that vessels built on the new design would outsail most things
afloat, and in order to give them a fair chance of doing so they were to
carry as little weight of metal as possible. If they could keep off
row-boats on entering or leaving the channel, more was scarcely expected
of them save in the last resort. The commander’s duties were summed up
in this formula, “You must run where you can. You must fight when you
can no longer run, and when you can fight no more you must sink the
mails before you strike.”
Here at one blow perished the system of Privateering in the Packet
Service. A ship armed so lightly could not afford to cruise after
prizes, but was sufficiently concerned with her own safety.
The West India merchants prophesied disaster, and indeed it seems that
the Postmaster General in framing their plans were not untainted by the
proverbially excessive zeal of the convert. The events of the next few
years certainly suggest that the point of safety had been passed in
reducing the armaments; and all the changes effected by further
experience throughout the war were in the direction of increase.
Such as the system was, however, it was established, and My Lords had no
time to discuss its merits or defects. The declaration of war burst upon
them before their plans were executed, and forthwith the General
Post-Office was beset with armourers and powder merchants, while the
clerks were called off from handling letters and newspapers to discuss
the pattern of a boarding pike, or to consult with Mr. Nock about the
quality of the pistols which he had supplied.
Not one of the Packets had received its armament when the war broke out.
It had not lasted three weeks when an incident occurred which showed how
little time there was to waste.
The declaration of war had been immediately followed by a general
embargo on shipping, but, in pursuance of an agreement between the
French and English Governments, an order in Council exempted from this
embargo Packets, and bye boats (vessels hired temporarily for the Postal
Service), and announced that they were to continue to run for some time
longer.
Under this agreement the “Despatch,” a Dover Packet, commanded by
Captain John Osborn, set sail as usual; but on February 20th, while
lying in Ostend Roads, she was summoned to surrender by a French
Privateer. Captain Osborn had no means of resistance. His protests were
disregarded, his ship was seized, and he with his crew were made
prisoners of war.
The “Despatch” was carried into Dunkirk, and, despite the remonstrances
of the British Government, was condemned as a prize. Captain Osborn was
exchanged within a few weeks of his capture, but his crew were less
fortunate. One of his sailors, after remaining in prison for nearly
three years, during the whole of which period, if his statement may be
trusted, he supported life on a handful of horse beans, served out every
twenty-four hours, and a small allowance of dirty water, came over to
England in a cartel in December, 1795. The rest of the crew were then
still in prison, and probably remained there until peace was declared in
1802.
Under the stimulus of this unfortunate event the work of arming the
Packets proceeded briskly. The guns and small arms for the Falmouth
boats were shipped on board a vessel lying in the Thames, and after a
series of irritating delays, caused chiefly by the necessity of waiting
for convoy, reached their destination towards the end of March. The few
guns needed for the Harwich Packets were soon provided. It had been
intended to give them 4–pounders, but the commanders objected, declaring
that four 2–pounders each were as much as their ships could carry. This
was probably true enough, for the North Sea Packets ranged only from
fifty to eighty tons burden. And indeed they had small need for heavy
armaments, for though they doubtless had occasionally to skirmish with
row-boats it does not appear that throughout the war any one of these
Packets was attacked, or at least seriously engaged on the high seas—a
somewhat remarkable immunity, which is perhaps to be accounted for
partly by their own excellence of sailing, and partly by the
thoroughness with which the important trade route over which their
various voyages were made was patrolled by British cruisers.
It had not been customary in former wars to arm the Holyhead and Dublin
boats, but a few light guns were now allowed to them, as well as to
those from Port Patrick to Donaghadee. The Packets running between
Milford Haven and Waterford were somewhat more exposed to the attacks of
Privateers, which might be expected to hang about the entrance to St.
George’s Channel in the hope of intercepting the shipping out of
Bristol, but here a curious difficulty was raised by the proprietors, a
body of merchants, nineteen in number. All but six of these gentlemen
were members of the Society of Friends, and, being sincerely convinced
of the sinfulness of war, they put in a decided objection against the
proposal to provide their vessels with implements of strife and
destruction.
The Postmaster General proceeded to reason with these ardent theorists,
and pointed out that as, by the existing rule, the Department was bound
to pay the value of captured Packets it was but reasonable that it
should be allowed, at its own cost, to protect them. The men of peace,
touched by the financial argument, admitted this, but retorted that if
only the Government would refrain from the wickedness of placing guns
and cutlasses in the hands of their sailors, they, that is to say the
thirteen Quaker proprietors, would waive all claim to compensation in
the event of capture. It was true, they admitted, that the six
proprietors who were not Quakers were by no means ready to make this
sacrifice, but the Government, they urged, might fairly be expected to
risk the liability for six-nineteenths of the loss when a principle was
at stake.
By this time, however, the Postmaster General had become tired of the
discussion, and closed it with a brief intimation that if the Packets
were not armed the contract would be withdrawn, and in view of this
unsympathetic attitude the Quakers sold their shares and retired from
the concern.
That the unwarlike attitude of the Quakers was by no means always
accompanied by any want of natural courage was demonstrated not long
after this period by a certain inhabitant of Falmouth, an old and
greatly respected member of the Society of Friends. This gentleman held
the appointment of surgeon to the Post-Office establishment, and was one
day cruising on board a Packet when a French Privateer hove in sight. It
was obvious that there was going to be a fight; and the commander,
knowing his passenger’s principles, suggested that he had better go
below. The doctor, a fine tall man, declined to budge from the deck; and
the captain thereupon offered him a cutlass and pistol, observing that
as he intended to remain in the way of danger, he might at least use
weapons in self-defence. But this suggestion also the doctor refused to
entertain; and, standing quite unarmed on the quarter-deck, he remained
an interested and placid spectator of the action. After a sharp
cannonade, the French vessel hurled her boarders into the Packet. The
doctor showed no sign of excitement as he saw the fierce St. Malo men
swarming up the sides, cutlass in hand; but when, a moment later, a
swarthy giant came clambering up unperceived, at a point where there was
no one to resist him, the doctor calmly stepped forward, threw his arms
round the astonished Frenchman with a grip few men could have resisted,
and saying, gently, “Friend, thee makes a mistake, this is not thy
ship,” tossed him into the sea.
The work of armament was complete at last. The Packets, armed on the new
system, sailed on their distant journeys; and at the General Post-Office
there was no more to do than to await the reports how they fared.
The interval of waiting must have been full of anxiety. It was generally
known that the number of French Privateers which were being sent out
from St. Malo, Bordeaux, Nantes, and a dozen other ports, to prey on
British commerce was beyond all precedent. Many of these Privateers
cruised with the express intention of intercepting the Packets,
attracted not only by the bullion which the Falmouth vessels frequently
had on board, but even more by the hope of intercepting the Government
despatches, and of striking blows at British trade by sending mercantile
correspondence to the bottom of the sea.
How seriously such disasters were felt in the City of London the
Postmaster General knew well; and they knew too that the West India
merchants, those unfriendly critics who were constantly at their side,
would pounce unmercifully on the first misfortune, and declare that the
new system had broken down. Month after month went by, however, and no
bad news reached Lombard Street. Packet after Packet came into port, and
recorded uneventful voyages. Some had been chased, a few had exchanged
shots with an enemy; but not one had been seriously engaged, or had
experienced the least difficulty in escaping an antagonist; and the end
of the year came before any Packet crept in beneath Pendennis Castle
with battered sides, and sails torn by shot.
The “Antelope” Packet was commanded by Captain Kempthorne, a member of
an old Cornish family which for many generations gave the navy some of
its best officers. Captain Kempthorne, by some accident which he
regretted during the short remainder of his life, had remained at home,
and given over the command of his ship to Mr. Edward Curtis, the master,
an officer of courage and discretion.
Under the charge of her acting commander, the “Antelope” was off
Cumberland Harbour, in Jamaica, homeward bound, when she fell in with
two schooners which at once gave chase. This was on the 1st December.
Mr. Curtis put the ship to her best point of sailing, and she behaved so
well that throughout the day the Cornishmen felt no doubt of being able
to shake off their enemies. On the following morning one of the
schooners was out of sight, but the other held on, and about four P.M.
opened fire with her bow chasers. The “Antelope” replied smartly with
all the guns she could bring to bear; and the Privateer, finding there
was to be no bloodless victory, dropped astern, with the evident design
of waiting for daylight before she commenced the action. Fearing a
surprise, Mr. Curtis kept his men at their quarters throughout the
night. The hours of waiting must have been trying to the nerve of the
Falmouth men; but all was quiet until five A.M. At that hour the
Privateer (her name was the “Atalanta”) suddenly ran down, aided by her
sweeps, for the wind had dropped, and, laying herself alongside the
“Antelope” to starboard, she poured in a broadside, which was promptly
returned, and immediately a furious discharge of cannon and small arms
set in on both sides. Under cover of the smoke the “Atalanta” cast out
grappling irons and locked herself to the Packet, and at the same
moment, by a shrill signal, her boarders were called to their stations.
Mr. Curtis was perfectly alive to the danger of his position. Some of
his hands having been disabled by fever, he had but twenty-two men fit
for service, counting the surgeon as a combatant; and a single glance
was sufficient to show that the French were in much greater numbers.
There was no chance of avoiding the assault, now that the grappling
irons were securely fixed: yet, if the Privateersmen made good their
footing on the deck of the Packet, the Cornishmen were tolerably certain
to be overwhelmed by numbers.
At the moment when Mr. Curtis was watching the boarders congregating on
the quarter, it was reported to him that a second party was forming at
the bow. The Packetsmen were all too few to resist a single attack, and
the design of the enemy clearly was to keep the whole force occupied at
the stern, while a second party clambered over the bow nettings
unresisted, and took the Cornishmen in the rear. Mr. Curtis hurried
forward. There was not an instant to lose. The boarders were already
mounting the bulwarks of their own ship. Some fifteen in number, they
crowded together in a dense body, and in another instant would have
leapt at the “Antelope,” when Mr. Curtis brought his two bow guns to
bear upon them, double-shotted with round and grape. At that short range
the discharge of these guns created terrible havoc, and killed or
disabled the whole of the opposing party.
One peril had been successfully overcome, and the pressing danger was
now on the starboard quarter, against which the attack had been
delivered before Mr. Curtis could regain his quarter-deck. There was no
gun which could be brought to bear, and the boarders consequently met
with no obstacle in climbing up the side. Here, however, in the breezy
language of the boatswain, John Pasco, “they were deceived by our
boarding nettings and handspikes,” and after a desperate scuffle half of
them were shot or thrust into the sea, while the remainder were glad
enough to regain their own ship.
So far, fortune had favoured the Cornishmen; but success had been bought
at a heavy price. Mr. Curtis lay dead on the deck—shot while encouraging
his men without regard for his personal danger. The steward and a
passenger were also killed; while the mate was so severely wounded as to
be incapable of taking command of the ship, or indeed of giving any
orders at all. The command thus devolved upon Pasco, the boatswain, an
illiterate fellow, who could not write his name, but who in this
emergency displayed the qualities of a brave sailor, and a born leader
of men. He assumed the responsibility thus suddenly thrust on him
without hesitation, and gave orders for a continuous fire of musketry to
be maintained upon anything which showed itself on the French vessel’s
decks. The “Antelope” was considerably higher than her antagonist, and
the Cornish marksmen were thus under cover, while the decks of the
“Atalanta” were swept by their bullets. At the same time a sharp
cannonade was maintained, and by an unfortunate shot one of the
“Antelope’s” guns was dismounted, whereupon Henry Bond, a seaman,
believed to be one of the strongest men in England, coolly took up the
gun in his arms, remounted it under a heavy fire, and returned to his
post unharmed.
The effect of the musketry fire maintained by the Cornishmen was now
beginning to show. The French were growing restless under it; and their
officers, seeing that they were losing heavily, ordered the boarders
forward once more. Pasco and his little crew were ready for them when
they came, pleased to return to the occupation of “deceiving” the French
with a handspike; and the end of it was that the boarders were driven
back with great loss, but once more at a heavy cost, for three of the
brave Packetsmen were disabled in the fight.
By this time the spirit of the French was daunted. They had lost all
hope of capturing the “Antelope,” and, casting loose the grapplings,
endeavoured to sheer off. Now was the time for Pasco to bear in mind the
new official maxim, that commanders of Packets were not expected to
resist an enemy of equal force. He had suffered heavy losses, he had but
a handful of men fit for service, he had earned distinction by his brave
defence, and if he let the French vessel go, he had nothing but credit
to expect. But the man’s blood was up, and he meant to carry the affair
through. The moment he saw the vessels separating, he sprang into the
rigging, ran up aloft, and lashed the “Atalanta’s” squaresail yard to
the “Antelope’s” fore shrouds.
“Thereupon,” to quote his own words once more, “we found the fire
slacken, which greatly encouraged us. We kept up a constant fire for
half an hour more, when we had the pleasure of hearing them cry for
mercy. But to all appearance they deserved none, nor expected any,
as some of them jumped overboard and drowned themselves, for their
bloody flag was nailed to the masthead. They were ordered to tear it
down, and we took possession, which it was lucky was so soon; for
our mainsail, nettings, quarter cloths, and hammocks were on fire,
which in the midst of the fire and smoke was not seen. To save the
ship we were obliged to cut all away.”
Thus ended this gallant action. When Pasco and his men had leisure to
examine their prize, they found that out of her crew of sixty-five men
only sixteen remained unhurt, while no less than thirty-two lay dead
upon the deck. Of the “Antelope’s” crew only two were slain, namely, Mr.
Curtis and the steward; though Mr. Walpole, the surgeon, afterwards
died, exhausted, as would appear, by the fatigue of attending on so many
wounded men.
In James’ _Naval History_ (vol. i., p. 111), where this action is
briefly described, it is stated that the “Atalanta” carried eight
3–pounders, and the “Antelope” six. If this is correct, the “Antelope”
had not yet been armed on the new principle described in the preceding
pages. She was an old vessel, and it may have been thought wiser to
leave her armaments unaltered.
When the circumstances of the action became known, the public enthusiasm
rose to a height which seems in the retrospect a little overstrained,
but which may certainly be accepted as a proof of the high degree of
importance attached to the preservation of the mails. The news,
moreover, reached England at a time when no great naval engagement had
taken place, and when the success of several single ship actions had
whetted the public appetite for glory without satisfying it. There was,
too, something in the circumstances which touched the imagination; for
it was not every day, even in the years of our greatest sea-fights, that
a ship was brought out of action by her boatswain. It was seriously
proposed to strike a medal in Pasco’s honour. The Jamaica House of
Representatives voted five hundred guineas to be distributed among the
crew. The Society for Encouraging the Capture of French Privateers—it
was a Committee of Lloyds—granted a substantial sum for the same
purpose, in addition to a gold boatswain’s call which they presented to
Pasco, who was also rewarded by the Postmaster General with another
similar call; while “smart money” and pensions were granted on the
highest scale consistent with the regulations.
Even in distributing these rewards the Postmaster General found an
opportunity for asserting their new principle. The Secretary’s letter to
the agent at Falmouth ran as follows: “But Mr. Pender must let it be
thoroughly understood amongst the officers and crews that these rewards
are given only in consequence of the particular circumstances attending
this glorious action, in which the “Antelope” was first chased from nine
o’clock A.M. December 1st to December 2nd, when she was obliged to
defend herself against an attack, but did not first attack an enemy. For
the Postmaster General by no means intend to depart from the principle
which they have been ordered to adopt, of considering it to be the duty
of the Packets to outsail the enemy whenever they can, and by no means
to fight when it can possibly be avoided.” In such terms the Secretary
pointed his moral, perhaps a little incautiously. How his instructions
were interpreted will appear hereafter.
Before leaving the subject of the “Antelope’s” action, it must be
observed that the newspapers of the time were full of praise of the
extraordinary bravery of a certain M. Nodin, a passenger, formerly a
midshipman in the French navy. The circumstances, if true, are
remarkable enough; but there is still in existence an official copy of a
declaration signed by Pasco himself and by the gunner of the “Antelope,”
in which the whole story is denied. M. Nodin resented this disparaging
deposition, and threatened proceedings against the two petty officers
for defaming his character, a suit which the Postmaster General
described as “absurd,” and which does not seem to have been proceeded
with. It is quite clear that the Post-Office authorities did not believe
the story of M. Nodin’s prowess. The matter might not have been worth
mentioning had not the tale acquired authority by being set forth by
James (_Naval History_, vol. i., p. 112). The authors and upholders of
the new system were, doubtless, cheered and encouraged by this action,
which seemed to show that great results might be achieved with even
smaller armaments than those recommended for the new Packets. The fact
that one of the oldest and worst equipped ships had won this striking
success was hailed as a happy augury; and so the old year went out among
mutual congratulations and good hope for the future.
The sunshine was of short duration. The storm was rising already. In the
first days of January the loss of the “Arab” was reported at the
Post-Office. The “Arab” was one of the new Packets, and her capture was
a serious misfortune. It appeared that she had been taken by a French
frigate, “L’Insurgente,” while on her homeward passage from Corunna on
Christmas Eve; and while it was evident that resistance would have been
a useless sacrifice of life, there was some disappointment on finding
that the “Arab’s” fine sailing qualities had not saved her.
Another disaster was quickly announced, though belonging this time more
plainly to the category of accident. The “Princess Augusta,” again one
of the new ships, caught fire while lying in the Tagus, and was
completely burned. This was a mere piece of bad luck; but so much could
not be said of the loss of the “Expedition,” which was carried into
Brest, in April, by a French frigate, which she had failed to outsail.
The matter was the more serious since not only one mail was lost, but
three, the scarcity of Packets having compelled the Post-Office agent at
Lisbon to despatch the mails of three successive weeks by a single ship.
The precaution commonly taken in those days of sending duplicates of all
despatches and important letters by the next mail following that which
had carried the originals was thus completely frustrated on this
occasion, and the inconvenience to the Government and the mercantile
community must have been immense.
To losses of this nature, however, of which, in these days, people
rarely think, the merchants of a hundred years ago were well accustomed;
and on the whole they endured them with exemplary patience. The
prevalent ideas of the risks of business were formed on the experience
of a century of almost constant war. So far, the losses of Packets had
been less numerous than in the last war; and there was, therefore, no
great degree of discontent.
In July, the “King George,” a Lisbon Packet commanded by Captain
Yescombe, was captured. She was about thirty leagues off Ushant, on her
homeward voyage from Lisbon, when she fell in with four large French
ships standing on the same tack. Captain Yescombe wore ship, and ran to
the southwest until he had lost sight of the enemy for an hour or more;
but had scarcely resumed his proper course when the four ships came in
sight again, followed by four more in the same quarter; and in trying to
avoid these squadrons, Captain Yescombe manœuvred himself into the jaws
of the French 40–gun ship “Unité”; whereupon he sank the mails and
despatches and struck his colours.
His experiences as a prisoner in France were rather curious. The “King
George” was carried into Brest, and after remaining some time at that
port, Captain Yescombe and his crew were sent to Quimper. It would
appear from his letters that the English sailors confined in the naval
prison of that town suffered great hardships, and that within nine weeks
of his arrival no less than three hundred out of the whole number died
miserably for want of proper food. From the risk of sharing their fate
Captain Yescombe was delivered by a singular piece of good fortune. A
lady residing near the prison, who happened to be related to the
Commissary in charge of the prisoners, became aware of his forlorn
condition, and obtained permission for him to lodge at her house. This
arrangement continued for several months, when Captain Yescombe managed
to escape, being, as he always maintained, not on parole at the time. He
made his way to Brest, where he remained concealed for several weeks;
and during this time he witnessed the sailing of the great fleet, which
got out of Brest on the 31st December, 1794, under the command of
Villaret Joyeuse; and gathered details concerning its composition and
equipment which afterwards proved of service to the British Government.
Towards the end of January he managed to obtain a passage across the
Channel, and landed at Plymouth, greatly broken in health by the
hardships he had undergone.
The romantic circumstances of this escape attracted attention both in
England and in France. In the newspapers of the latter country it was
indeed freely asserted that Captain Yescombe had broken his parole; and
though the Postmaster General accepted their officer’s assurances on
this point, yet the charge was so strongly asserted in France, and
threats were so publicly made of meting out rigorous treatment to
Captain Yescombe if he should again become a prisoner of war, that it
was thought more prudent to allow his duties to be discharged by deputy
for a time, and the “King George” accordingly sailed under command of
her master until peace was declared in 1802.