notwithstanding the many chafes I got, if another war was to break out,
and I was fifty years younger, provided I could get a good captain
and a sweet ship, worthy messmates and a full allowance of grog, I’d
sooner sarve in a man-of-war than in any other craft whatsomever. But
mark my words, we shan’t never have another such a navy as the last.
Arn’t they _arming_ the ships on purpose for them to make use of their
_legs_, and run away? What would ould Benbow or Duncan have said to
this, with their round starns and chase batteries? Arn’t the fleet got
the _dry-rot_ with fundungus, and don’t the new regulations bid fair
to give the men the _dry-rot_ too? Who the deuce could weather a storm
or engage an enemy upon a pint of grog a-day? But as long as there’s a
shot in the locker, it shall go hard but we’ll queer the purser somehow
or other, after all.
“I remember Jack Traverse once, and a worthy soul Jack was too, going
off at Spithead to join the old Gorgon. Well, d’ye see, as the wherry
came from the starboard side to pull up to the larboard gangway, Jack,
who had been bowsing his jib up, caught sight of the name painted in
gold upon the starn, and so he endeavoured to see what he could make
of it; but being cro-jack eyed, and his brains all becalmed, he began,
like a dull skull-hard, to spell it backward. ‘N-o, no,’ says Jack,
‘that’s as plain as Beachy Head in a fog; so this arn’t the ship, d’ye
mind! Howsomever, let us see what her name is. N-o, no; that’s right;
g-r-o-g, grog. Yes, I’m blessed if it arn’t, and both together makes
NO GROG! About ship, waterman, she won’t do for me; why, I should be
waterlogged in a week, so bear up for the next ship, d’ye hear.’
“The navy, your honour, is the pillars of the state; but if the props
are unsound, the whole heady-phiz must tumble to the dust; and oh,
to see the flag under which I’ve fought and bled--that flag, whose
influence caused such signal exertions in the fleet ‘when Nelson gained
the day,’--humbled before the white rag of a Frenchman, or pecked at
by the double-headed eagle!--nay, what is worse, degraded in the sight
of the stripes and stars! My fervent prayer is, that before the day
arrives, these old bones may be hove-down for a full due, and buried in
the hollow wave. ’Twould break my heart.
“Howsomever, all this comes of trying to make Jack a gentle-man, a
title he once despised; but what with the quibble hums of lawyers,
and the comflobgistications of parsons, his head gets filled with
proclamations, and his brains whirl round like the dog-vane in a calm.
I beg your honour’s pardon, though, for troubling you with so many of
my remarks upon the subject; but it must be evident to every body that
tars have arrived at a bad pitch, and though I’m no croaker, (I don’t
mean him as was at the Admiralty,) yet my spirit is stirred up and must
have vent. I sees they have tried to put a stop to smuggling, by taking
off the duties. That is as it should be; but there’s another thing I
wish, and that is, to get a petition to parley-ment for all the old
hard-a-weathers at Greenwich to have their ’bacca duty free. Why, sir,
it would be an act of piety; and the worthy old quidnuncs when they
take their chaw, or blow a cloud, would bless ’em for it.
“Talking about smuggling, reminds me of a circumstance that happened
off Dungeness, when I was in that gallant ship, the Triumph,
seventy-four. We were running up channel for the Downs with Dungeness
light on our larboard beam, and it was about six bells in the middle
watch, when the look-out on the fokstle reported, that there was a
lugger close under our bows. ‘Give him a gun,’ cried the officer
of the watch. The shot was fired and the lugger instantly let fly
her fore-sheet, and rounded to. ‘From whence came you?’ hailed
the lieutenant. ‘Wha waw,’ replied the lugger. ‘What the devil
place is that?’ said the officer; and again raising the speaking
trumpet,--‘where are you bound to?’--‘Wha waw,’ was once more returned.
‘The fellow’s making game of us, sir,’ said the officer to the captain,
who, hearing the report of the gun, had come out of his cabin. ‘Shall I
board him, sir?’--‘Yes, Mr. ----, lower the quarter-boat down, and see
what he is.’
“Well, away we went, and as we pulled towards him, the lieutenant would
have it the lugger was a French privateer; but the coxswain, an old
hand at the trade, replied, ‘No, sir, she’s no privateer, and I thinks
I can _smell_ a secret at this distance. There’s no guns, sir, and
but few hands. Eh, eh, we shall see presently.’--‘What are you laden
with?’ inquired the officer as soon as we got alongside, and he had
jumped upon the deck. ‘What is your cargo?’--‘Bacon and eggs,’ replied
a veteran, whose gray locks peeped from underneath a slouched hat, and
partly concealed a weather-beaten countenance, where the breakers and
time had made deep furrows; ‘bacon and eggs, sir.’--‘It’s of no use
axing that man, sir,’ said the coxswain. ‘I can tell him in a minute;
he’s brought his hogs to a fine market, and as for eggs,--why, he’s
chock full of tubs, your honour, (lifting up the grating.) Ay, there
they are, indeed, like eggs in a gull’s nest. There they are, sir; it
makes a fellow’s mouth water to look at them. Mayn’t we have a toothful
your honour? It’s hard to starve in a land of plenty! I’d only knock
one small hole in this head here,’ giving it a thump with the tiller
that was nearly accomplishing the purpose.
“‘Avast, avast, sir!’ cried the lieutenant: ‘this is smuggled, and now
we must seize it for his majesty.’--‘For his Majesty! all that for his
Majesty!’ cries the coxswain. ‘Why, God bless your honour, he’ll never
be able to get through the half of it, even though the Prince of Wales
should lend him a hand, and I hear he’s no flincher from the gravy.
I’m sure, sir, none of the royal family would miss the want of as much
as would comfort the heart of a tar in such a raw morning as this,
especially as we would drink their healths in a bumper, and that would
do ’em more good than swallowing all this here stuff!’--‘Not another
word,’ said the officer. ‘Jump into your boat, and (turning to the old
man) do you follow him, for I must take you with me!’ The poor fellow
was obliged to comply, though he made a good many wry faces, and begged
hard; but all to no purpose. So the cutter shoved off, sadly deploring
that _all hands_ were so nigh _hollands_, and yet without being able to
moisten their clay with a sup before breakfast.
“‘What is she?’ inquired captain E--, as the lieutenant came up the
side. ‘A smuggler, sir,’ was the answer. ‘A smuggler, eh!’ cried
the captain, ‘and so (addressing the old man) you are one of those
lawless characters who run all hazards to run your goods and beach
your tubs, bidding defiance to danger and death? What have you to say
for yourself?’--‘Sir,’ replied the hoary seaman uncovering his head,
and displaying a face where cool determination was struggling with
painful sensations, ‘sir, whatever I can say will, perhaps, avail me
nothing. The necessities of a large family and numerous distresses
have driven me to my present state. All I possess in the world is
now in your power, and you are able in one moment, not only to
deprive me of liberty, but also to reduce me and mine to utter misery
and beggary. For myself, I care but little; but for my fatherless
grandchildren,’--he wrung a tear from his eye, and dashed it off in
agony; but his countenance almost instantly resumed the stern serenity
which appeared to mark his character. Captain E. and the lieutenant
took a turn or two aft in deep conversation. At last, eight bells came
and the morning watch was turned out. ‘Send all hands on deck,’ said
the captain to the boatswain’s-mate, ‘and bear a hand about it.’
“Well, we all mustered aft on the quarter-deck; and the captain,
standing on the gratings of the after-hatchway, exclaimed--‘My lads,
this old rascal’s a smuggler, and there’s his vessel, your prize. He
says our detaining him will be the ruin of himself and family; and how
much shall we obtain for plunging a fellow-creature and a countryman
into hopeless misery? Why, our gin will be transmogrified into port for
the agents and lawyers, and perhaps you would share about nine-pence
a-man. Mine and the officers would amount to about twenty pounds, which
we are ready to forego,--nay more, I am ready to give you that sum out
of my own pocket. So what d’ye say, lads? shall we make him splice the
main-brace, and let the old rogue go?’ A simultaneous ‘Ay, ay, sir,’
resounded from all hands. ‘Well, then, my men, we’ll have six tubs
out of him for that purpose; so jump into the boat again, and you old
Blow-hard must swear through thick and thin that you have never set
eyes upon us!’ The old man turned round, fell upon his knees, and,
laying his hand upon his heart, poured forth a volley of thanks; but
just as he was going over the side,--‘Avast,’ cried the captain, ‘you
must swear upon the binnacle never to divulge what has taken place.’
This was done, and the smuggler returned to the boat with a lighter
heart than when he entered it at first.
“Away we pulled alongside the lugger; but, when their master told them
they were clear, my eyes! the men were like wild fellows, and would
have swamped us with tubs. ‘Only six, Mr. E,’ cried the captain from
the gangway: ‘if you bring more, I shall send you back with them.’ But
we had plenty to drink, and then stood for our ship again.
“Well, d’ye see, the six tubs were placed under the poop-awning; and
as soon as the captain had turned in, the lieutenant sent two of them
to the captain’s cabin, one to the ward-room, one to the midshipmen’s
berth, and another to the warrant-officers’ mess, leaving only a
solitary tub for the whole of the ship’s company.
“Well, d’ye see, at day-light out came the captain again and looked
for the stuff ‘Why, Mr. ----, where--where--what have you done with
the grog?’ The officer told him how it had been disposed of. ‘No,
no,’ says the skipper: ‘fair play’s a jewel, sir: have it all on deck
directly, and let every man fore-and-aft share alike. I shall only take
my allowance with the rest, that all hands may be tarred by the same
brush.’ So the stuff was started into the wash-deck-tub, and equally
divided among officers and crew.”
Here the boatswain’s-mate ceased, and took a determined pull from
his pewter, whilst the various groupes assembled (for our numbers
had increased,) were all unanimous in voting Captain E---- to be “a
generous soul, what ’ud always see a poor fellow righted in the long
run,” and each had some anecdote to relate respecting him; but as all
were talking at the same moment, it was impossible to collect them.
“I was with him,” exclaimed an old pensioner, “off Scamperdown,
when Duncan fought the Dutch fleet, and we engaged and took the
Worser-never; and after she struck, we stood on and attacked the
Fry-hard, that carried ould Winter’s flag,--blue at the main. It was
just arter the mutiny too, and some of our hands went from the bilboes
to their guns. But Captain E---- knew the stuff a blue jacket was made
on, and was glad of the opportunity of rubbing off old scores with the
gunner’s sponge.”
“Talking about smuggling,” said Bill Jennings, “puts me in mind of
the way we used to get dollars off at Boney’s Airs,[3] when I was in
the Mutine sloop of war along with Captain Fabian, and we had three
fine Deal-built boats that ’ud walk along like race-horses. Well, all
the boats’ crews had belts round their waists with pockets to ’em,
each just big enough to hold a roll of fifty dollars; so that every
man could carry three hundred,--and a tolerably good cargo, too,
considering he had to walk as steady as a pump-bolt on shore for fear
of the custom-house officers, and to stretch out pretty smartly at his
oar when he got into the boat--supposing the wind warn’t fair. Well,
one day says the marchant to our coxswain, as we was standing in his
store,--says he, ‘My lad, do you see this here cask?’ which was rather
a foolish question to be sure, seeing it was a half-hogshead, such as
the small craft had their rum in, and he might have been sartin that
Tom Crampton had twigged it. Howsomever, the marchant says to him, ‘My
lad,’ says he, ‘do you see this here cask?’ Now it puzzled Tom to think
what tack he was standing on, for the licker-bottles were all filled
chock-a-block on the side-board, and ‘Mayhap,’ says Tom to himself
whilst he scratched his head, ‘mayhap, his honour’s not never a going
to gie me it all?’ Howsomever, says the marchant, says he, ‘My lad,
do you see this here cask?’ Tom looked at the half-hogshead and then
at the marchant, and then at the rum-bottle, as much as to say he was
working a traverse to find the latitude and the longitude of the thing;
and then he scratched his head, and took a severe turn with his quid,
and ‘My lad, do you see this here cask?’ axed the marchant. ‘I do,
your honour,’ says Tom; ‘and I’ll take my oath on it, if your honour
wishes.’--‘No, no,’ says the marchant, ‘your word’s enough. So bring up
your boat’s crew, and get ’em aboard as quick as you can.’
[3] Buenos Ayres.
“Now Tom thought that the men were to come up for the stuff and then
to go on board the sloop, so as to get there before dark as she lay in
the outer roads, about seven miles from the town; so says Tom, says
he, ‘God bless your honour! I’ll have ’em up in the wink of a blind
eye, and I’m sure they’ll thank your honour for your goodness. Is it
rum or brandy?’--‘What do you mean?’ axed the marchant. ‘The cask,
your honour,’ says Tom, ‘is it Gemaker, or Coney-hack?’--‘Neither
the one nor the other,’ says the marchant; ‘them there are all
dollars.’--‘Whew!’ whistles Tom; ‘now I understands your honour, but
couldn’t we contrive to get ’em down in the cask just as they are;
so that instead of making four or five trips, we may carry off the
whole in the turning of a log-glass?’--‘I fear that ’ud be too great
a risk,’ says the marchant; ‘or else I wish it could be done.’ ‘Why
for the matter o’ the risk,’ says Tom, ‘there’s only one ould chap
as I cares about; but he’s always boxing the compass of every thing
that he catches sight on, living or dead. But I think I could get to
windward of him, arter all’s said and done, and there’s no risk with
the men, you know.’ So Tom was allowed to make trial of his skill; and
away he goes and gets a purser’s bread-bag, and then walks off to the
market and buys a couple o’ sheep’s heads, which he stows away in the
bag along with a little hundred of cabbages and inyuns, till it was
chock-full. Well, the cask of dollars was got into a cart, which drove
off,--Tom keeping a good cable’s length a-head with his bread-bag over
his shoulder and a piece of wood shaped like a sugar-loaf done up in
a blue paper under his arm; for I should tell you, messmates, that
was the way they used to smuggle off the solid silver, and the old
coast-guard had made a prize of a couple of these sugar-loaves only a
day or two afore. Well, on goes Tom, bending beneath his bag like a
crank craft under whole topsails, and now and then taking a heavy lurch
to draw attention.
“The jetty runs a good two hundred yards into the river, and right in
the teeth of the upper part on it stands the guard-house, where ould
Jack Spaniard kept as sharp a look out as a Jew crimp upon pay-day,
and presently he sees Tom rolling along and looking as wise as the
cook’s-mate in a sudden squall. So he mounts a cockt-hat as big as a
Guinea-man’s caboose with a feather in it as ’ud have sarved the whole
Chatham division of jollies, and curling his mouthstarshers he marches
up to Tom and bids him back his main-yard; but Tom took no notice for
the moment, till the ould Signor cries out, ‘Blood and ounds,’ in
Spanish, and then he pretends to cotch sight of him for the first
time. Away starts Tom as if he was afraid of being boarded, and the
Spaniard whips out his rapper, as they calls a sword in that country,
and runs him right through the heart--”
“God bless me!” exclaimed I, interrupting old Jennings; “what! did the
poor fellow get murdered for his frolic?”
“Murdered, your honour!” reiterated Bill Jennings; “Tom murdered! No,
no, the shove gave him better headway--”
“Why did not you declare, but this minute,” said I, “that the Spaniard
run him through the heart?”
“Through Tom’s heart! Lord love you, no,” he replied; “it warn’t Tom’s
heart, but through the heart of a cabbage, I was going to say, only
your honour interrupted me,--a cabbage that was in the bag. Well, there
was a pretty chase all along shore, till the Spaniard fires a pistol
that hit him right in the head--”
“Well, then, he’s dead enough now, I suppose,” exclaimed I, “if
shooting through the head will kill a man.”
“It warn’t Tom’s head,” he replied, laughing, “it was the sheep’s
head; for Tom kept the ould chap dodging about till he saw the cask of
dollars was in the boat, and she with her three lugs rap full standing
off shore with a spanking breeze, and then he pretends to trip up over
a piece of rock and lays him all along, hove down on his beam ends.
Up comes the Signor hand over hand; because why? Poor Tom had made
every nail an anchor, and clung to the earth as if it had been his own
nat’ral mother. So, up comes the Signor and grabs hold of the bag,
which Tom held on, like grim death against the doctor; but after some
tuzzling, Tom lets go the bag and runs for it, leaving Jack Spaniard
with his prize. Well, Tom gets down to the captain’s gig and shoves
off to the Muskitoe schooner, what was lying in-shore, and the Signor
hoists the bag on his shoulders, fully sartin from the weight that
he’d made a rich seizure, and back he marches to the guard-house,
where every soul had turned out to enjoy a sight of the chase, (so
that the cart with the cask passed by without being examined,) and now
remained grouped together to see what the Signor had got. There was
Spanish sodgers in their cockt-hats, custom-house officers in their
long punchos, and coast-o’guinea niggers, men and women, cracking their
jokes at the expense of poor Tom, and highly delighted that his cargo
was captured, nothing doubting but that it was dollars, or mayhap
ounce-bits--that’s doubleloons, messmates,--and all were eager to see
it opened, little suspecting it was a mere bag o’ moonshine. Well, the
Signor comes right slap into the middle of ’em, puffing and blowing
like a sparmacity, and throws down his treasure; one of the black
fellows out’s knife and cuts the seizing at the mouth of the bread-bag,
and away rolls sheep’s heads and cabbages with a good sprinkling
of garlic; and, my eyes, the sodgers began to roar with laughing;
the custom-house officers turned-to and swore at every Saint in the
calendar, the niggers went dancing mad with delight at the fun, whilst
the ould Signor twirled his mouthstarshers and cursed every thing an
inch high. But the dollars were safe, and Tom got a handsome present
for his trouble; whilst Jack Spaniard was in a precious stew of sheep’s
heads and impartinances to think he’d been done so completely.”
“I dearly loves them there sort o’things,” said a weather-beaten old
blade; “there’s a some-ut sentimental about ’em that excites simperthy,
and brings to the memory many an ould scene of former times.”
“You’re right, boy Ben,” rejoined my first conductor, who had told
me of the Mutiny of the Hermione, “and so they do. Some people calls
’em _rum-on-tick_, but I can’t for the life of me tell why, as they
seldom gives us credit for much spirits; but if his honour there has no
objection, I’ll just give him a yarn that’s twirling in my brain, and
mayhap it may please him.”
I readily assented to the proposal, and he accordingly began,--“I
remember once, when under the command of the gallant Sir Sidney Smith,
up the Mediterranean, we were scouring the coast, and brushing away
the French troops; the captain ordered a party in the barge and launch
to rig for going ashore, as he intended to pay a visit to a nobleman,
who resided about two miles inland, on an elegant estate. Now, the old
master was an immense stout man, as big as a grampus; he always gave
the vessel a heel to the side he was walking: and as he hadn’t been
on dry ground for many months, he was invited to join the captain and
some of the other officers in their cruize. But, Lord love you! he
thought the ship wouldn’t be safe without him; and, as for fighting
like the sodgers, with their marching and their countermarching, why,
he didn’t understand their heavylutions, and wasn’t going to be made
a light-infantry of. However, they persuaded the old gemman at last;
all hands got into the boats, and we shoved off. It was a lovely
morning, and as we pulled along-shore, the scenery was beautiful; but
more so when we landed and took our course to the nobleman’s house. A
wild and romantic spot it was; rocks piled on rocks, yet crowned with
verdure--the dark forest and the green fields; while the calm ocean
reflected with dazzling brightness the golden beams of the sun.
“Well, d’ye see, the nobleman was glad to see us all, for the French
had retreated three weeks before, and he said there wasn’t a trooper
within a hundred miles. The wine was set abroach, and all hands began
to make merry, particularly Sir Sidney and the officers.
“‘Well, master,’ said the captain, ‘how have you enjoyed your walk?’
“‘Very much, indeed, sir; but,’--looking to seaward,--‘I’m afraid
they’re getting the ship too close in. How sweetly she sits, like a
duck upon the water! Gad, I’m sorry I left her.’ And then he bellowed,
‘Why don’t you wear round upon t’other tack? But they can’t hear me, so
I may just as well whistle jigs to a mermaid.’
“‘Never mind,’ returned the skipper, ‘they’ll keep her afloat; so drink
your wine, and make yourself happy.’
“Happy, eh? what out of his ship? That was impossible; so the old man
kept growling, like a distant thunder storm. The castle we were in was
situated upon a rising ground, that commanded an extensive view of the
country; but we were on that side which was next the sea, and after a
good _blow_ out,--that is, when we had re-_galed_ ourselves, and the
captain had gained what information he wanted, just as we were coming
away, in rushed a tall meagre-looking figure, with a face as long as a
purser’s account, and as pale as a corpse, while his teeth chattered
like a watchman’s rattle.
“‘What’s the matter,--what’s the matter?’ inquired Sir Sidney; but
the man was breathless with running, and couldn’t answer. He wrung
his hands, and pointed inland. The officers made the best of their
way aloft to the top of the castle, and there, with their glasses,
discovered a troop of French cavalry, about 200, carrying on under a
heavy press.
“My eyes! there was a job. To defend the ship,--the castle, I
mean,--was out of the question; for there warn’t above twenty of us up
from the boats; besides, it would have been the ruin of the nobleman,
in case of defeat. So orders were given to make the best of our way
down, and every man to look out for himself. But what was to become of
the master? He could hardly walk; and for running, that was impossible,
for his legs were so short, he could make no hand at it. The officers
proposed to conceal him; but he swore he wouldn’t be stowed away like
a bale of damaged slops returned unserviceable, and perhaps be cotch’d
and get fricasseed and carbonadoed, like a young frog. ‘No,’ said he;
‘crack on, my boys; and the devil take the starnmost.’
“Off we set, but poor old Soundings couldn’t hold it out; he puffed,
and blowed, and waddled along, till he tripped over a mound of earth;
and there he lay, like an island of flesh amidst an ocean of grass. Sir
Sidney hove to, and laughed till his sides shook. However, he ordered
a couple of hands to raise the old gemman on their shoulders, and run
with all their might.