The friends so link’d together,
I’ve seen around me fall,
Like leaves in windy weather;
I feel like one
Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but me departed.
Thus in the stilly night,
Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,
Sad memory brings the light
Of other days around me.—MOORE.
When I was on board the Boreas and Conqueror with my father I had
nothing to do with the midshipmen, as I lived in the gunroom of the
former and wardroom of the latter. But in this ship I took my degrees
(not as a doctor of Oxford, thank God!) but as a midshipman in the
cockpit of H.M. ship Panther, with some of the best fellows that ever
graced the British navy. I joined her early in 1782 fitting in
Portsmouth Harbour, commanded by Captain Thomas Piercy of glorious
memory. I had eleven shillings given me by some friends in Gosport, and
I thought my fortune was made.
On my introduction to my new shipmates I was shown down to the starboard
wing berth. I had not been long seated before a rugged-muzzled
midshipman came in, and having eyed me for a short time, he sang out
with a voice of thunder: ‘Blister my tripes—where the hell did you come
from? I suppose you want to stick your grinders (for it was near
dinner-time) into some of our a la mode beef;’ and without waiting for a
reply, he sat down and sang a song that I shall remember as long as I
live. The first verse, being the most moral, I shall give:
A Duchess from Germany
Has lately made her will;
Her body she’s left to be buried,
Her soul to the devil in hell.
This gentleman’s name was Watson; and notwithstanding the song and his
blunt manner of speaking, he proved to be a very good fellow, and was
the life and soul of the mess.
I must now describe our starboard wing berth and compare it with the
manners and customs of the present day. In this ship our mess-place had
canvas screens scrubbed white, wainscot tables, well polished, Windsor
chairs, and a pantry fitted in the wing to stow our crockery and dinner
traps with safety. The holystones and hand organs,[9] in requisition
twice a week, made our orlop deck as white as the boards of any crack
drawing room, the strictest attention being paid to cleanliness; and
everything had the appearance of Spartan simplicity. We used to sit down
to a piece of salt beef, with sour krout, and dine gloriously with our
pint of black-strap[10] after, ready at all calls, and as fit for battle
as for muster. Here mark the difference. The cockpit abandoned, and my
lords and gentlemen ushered into the gunroom fitted up in luxurious
style, with window curtains, blinds, buffets, wine coolers, silver
forks, and many other appendages of that delicate nature, unknown in the
good old times; and, if I am correctly informed, a brass knocker[11]
fixed at the gunroom door, which ever and anon announces the approach of
the mighty members with as much pomp as a Roman consul with his lictors
thundering at the door for admittance. But enough of this. When war
comes we shall see.
When I joined the Panther, Mr. Price, the purser, who I knew nothing of,
furnished me with everything I stood in need of, as the ship was hurried
off to join Lord Howe and I had not time to get fitted out. When the
ship was paid, he refused to take any remuneration when I called to
repay the obligation, but said he would do the same again with pleasure.
I stand indebted to his kindness, which I shall remember for ever with
heart-felt gratitude and respect for his memory, and grieved I am that
the service should have lost so good an officer, lamented by every
person who had the pleasure of his acquaintance.
We sailed (I think) in May with the grand fleet under Lord Howe, to
cruise in the North Sea after the Dutch. On our arrival in the Downs,
Captain Piercy, from ill health, left the ship, to the great regret of
every officer and man on board, and was succeeded in the command by
Captain Robert Simonton.
Nor he unworthy to conduct the host,
Yet still they mourned their ancient leader lost.—_Iliad._
During our cruise the influenza carried off great numbers in the fleet.
Our ship’s company (a most excellent one) was turned over to the
Raisonnable, 64, and that of the Ripon, 60, sent on board of us, and we
shortly after left the fleet, and returned to the Downs to relieve the
old Dromedary, and hoisted the flag (blue at the fore) of Vice-Admiral
Sir Francis William Drake as port admiral, for about a month; when we
were relieved by the Ripon, and then proceeded to St. Helen’s, where we
remained a short time, and sailed with a flying squadron to the
westward, consisting of four sail of the line and three frigates, under
the command of Captain Reeve[12] as commodore, as follows:
Crown 64 (Captain Reeve, senior officer)
Suffolk 74 [Captain Sir George Home][13]
Vigilant 64 [Captain J. Douglas][13]
Panther 60 [Captain R. Simonton]
Monsieur 36 [Captain Hon. Seymour Finch][13]
Recovery 32 [Captain Hon. G. C. Berkeley] [13]
Cerberus 32
About the middle of July, in the Bay of Biscay we took, after a long
chase, three prizes, the Pigmy cutter, Hermione victualler, with ninety
bullocks for the combined fleet, and a brig laden with salt. A day or
two after, when blowing very hard and under a close-reefed main topsail
and foresail, on the starboard tack, a fleet was seen to leeward on the
beam and lee bow. The commodore made the private signal which was not
answered, and then the signal for an enemy and to wear and make sail on
the other tack. Wore accordingly, and set close-reefed topsails, with
fore and main tacks on board, which worked the old ship most charmingly.
In loosing the mizen topsail, and before letting it fall, I slipped my
foot from the horse[14] and fell off the yard into the top, and saved my
life by catching hold of the clewline, having fallen from the bunt of
the sail. The captain saw this and gave me a terrible rub down for not
taking more care of myself. One of the prizes (the brig with salt) was
retaken. The next morning, the weather being moderate, saw the enemy
about three leagues to leeward. Sent down one of our frigates, the
Monsieur who sailed remarkably well, to reconnoitre; in the evening they
were out of sight. Soon after, we fell in with the Sandwich, 90,
Vice-Admiral Sir Peter Parker (white at the fore), with the Count de
Grasse[15] on board a prisoner, and a large convoy from the West Indies
bound to England. Parted company from Sir Peter. Several ships of the
line joined our squadron, which proceeded to cruise off the coast of
Ireland for a short time, and then returned to Spithead, where we found
the grand fleet fitting for the relief of Gibraltar. Caught fire in the
marine storeroom near the after magazine, which damaged several
knapsacks before it could be got under. We had only one boat alongside,
the others being absent getting off the stores from the dockyard. A
quartermaster’s wife and three others jumped out of one of the
lower-deck ports into this boat, and casting off the painter pulled away
for the hospital beach as well as any bargemen, leaving their husbands
to take care of themselves.
August the 29th, one of our fleet, the Royal George, 100, Rear-Admiral
Kempenfelt (blue at the mizen), being on a careen, to the astonishment
of every person upset at Spithead, and more than two thirds of her crew
drowned, and among the number that brave and meritorious officer Admiral
Kempenfelt, a man that has never been surpassed as an able tactician. We
saved twenty-seven of her hands. One of them told a curious story. He
said he was boat-keeper of the pinnace, whose painter was fast to the
stern-ladder; and just as the ship was going over, the hairdresser took
a flying leap out of the stern gallery with a powder bag in his hand and
had nearly jumped into his boat. He was so much alarmed that he could
not cast off the painter, nor could he find his knife to cut it, and was
obliged to jump and swim for his life, when our boat picked him up. His
own boat went down with the ship. It was a sad sight to see the dead
bodies floating about Spithead by scores until we sailed. The poor
admiral and several officers were never found. Captain Waghorn (the
admiral’s captain) was saved and tried by a court martial and acquitted.
God knows who the blame ought to light on, for blame there must have
been somewhere, for never was a ship lost in such a strange and
unaccountable manner. The ship might have been weighed had proper steps
been taken. A stupid attempt was made, but failed, as well it might; for
neither officers nor men exerted themselves. The Royal William and
Diligente were placed one on each side, and would have raised her, but
energy was wanting, and there she remains, a disgrace to this day.[16]
Lord Howe having hoisted his flag (blue at the main) on board the
Victory, 110, and the fleet being ready, the signal was made on the 11th
of September to get under way, and that we were to take charge of the
convoy as commodore with a broad blue pennant, and the Buffalo, 60, to
bring up the rear. The convoy consisted of fifty sail of victuallers for
the relief, with which we went through the Needles and joined the grand
fleet at the back of the Isle of Wight, the Bristol, 50, and East India
fleet under her charge, in company. In forming the line of battle the
Goliath was to lead on the starboard tack and the Vengeance on the
larboard. The fleet consisted of thirty-four sail of the line, besides
frigates, and their names I shall give when I come to the action with
the combined fleets.[17] We had moderate weather down Channel, and the
number of convoys collected, and under the protection of the grand fleet
to a certain distance, made up several hundred sail, which cut a fine
appearance.
But, when the fleet got well into the Bay of Biscay, things began to
alter, the wind shifting to the SW, with heavy squalls, which increased
from a gale to a furious hurricane. I remember being at dinner in the
wardroom when the height of the gale came on, the ship being under a
close-reefed main topsail, and a very heavy sea running, which made her
labour prodigiously. Our third lieutenant (Montagu) came down and said:
‘Gentlemen, prepare for bad weather; the admiral has handed his main
topsail and hove to under storm staysails. Our main topsail was not
handed ten minutes before she gave a roll that beggared all description;
‘chaos seemed to have come again,’ and it appeared doubtful whether she
would right. The quarter deck guns were out of sight from this lee
lurch, and the weather roll was equally terrible. The scuttle butts[18]
broke adrift and were stove; a lower-deck gun started and with great
difficulty was secured; one of our poor fellows was lost overboard, and
serious apprehensions were entertained for the safety of the ship, who
cut such dreadful capers that we expected she would founder. I must here
mention that when the Panther came from abroad, the devil tempted the
navy board to order her proper masts to be taken out, and [a] fifty-gun
ship’s placed in their room, and this occasioned her to roll so
dreadfully. It was in this gale that the Ville de Paris, Glorieux,
Hector, Centaur, and others were lost on their passage to England from
the West Indies. It lasted a considerable time, and it was near the
middle of October before the fleet entered the Gut of Gibraltar.[19]
His lordship made the signal to prepare for battle, and while he stood
up the Straits with the fleet, we were ordered to lead in the relief. In
doing so we had near been relieved for ever, for we were taken in a
sudden squall with our lower-deck guns run out, that had nearly swamped
the ship before we could get them in and the ports down. Stood in for
the Rock, but unfortunately got black-strapped [20] with part of the
convoy, and with difficulty got them safe into Rosia Bay. Had three
cheers given us by the garrison. The enemy’s fleet, consisting of
forty-five sail of the line, at anchor at Algesiras; one of their ships,
the St. Michael, 70, a prize to the Rock; she had driven in the late
gale under the batteries near the Old Mole and was captured. A constant
cannonade kept up between the garrison and the Spanish lines; shot and
shells flying in every direction; not a house left standing in the town,
and the forts that were abreast the junk ships[21] (sunk before we
arrived) beaten down to the water’s edge; the inhabitants living in the
bomb-proof, the only place of safety; and with the exception of the old
Moorish Tower, that bid defiance to shot and shells, everything had the
appearance of desolation and ruin.
While we remained in Rosia Bay, one of the enemy’s line-of-battle ships
(a three-decker) had the temerity to stand in and attack us and the
convoy at anchor; but when within gunshot, the batteries opened such a
heavy fire that she was obliged to haul off after being severely
handled, doing us little damage—we had none killed or wounded. It was
laughable to see the convoy blaze away with their pop-guns at this great
hulk of a ship.
I have lately seen a volume [i. 106 _seq._] of Lieutenant Marshall’s
_Naval Biography_, where he mentions, in the Life of Admiral Holloway,
who commanded the Buffalo, 60, several particulars respecting the
relief. Anyone not knowing better must suppose from reading his account
that Captain Holloway had the sole charge, when, in fact, he only
brought up the rear, and was under our orders. No mention is made of the
Panther being the commodore, and leading in a great part of the
victuallers. Now, without wishing to take from the merits of Captain
Holloway (who was a most able officer) I must beg leave to state that
Captain Simonton, who was intrusted with the convoy, did his duty full
as well as Captain H., although Lieutenant Marshall takes no notice of
the Panther or her commander.
The same gentleman quotes an anonymous author[22] who reflects upon Lord
Howe, and, among other incorrect statements, says it was injudicious in
his lordship to place the Buffalo the rear ship in the action. Now I for
one flatly contradict this, and I say that the Vengeance, 74, and not
the Buffalo, was the rear ship. Lord Howe was too good an officer to
place a ship in a situation where she was likely to be cut off, and his
lordship’s character is above the animadversions of an author who was
afraid to put his name to his work. One of the convoy under charge of
the Buffalo was captured, with the baggage and soldiers’ wives, the only
loss sustained.
The enemy’s fleet having got under way on the 17th or 18th October, we
also weighed; but were obliged to anchor, the enemy having made
demonstrations to attack us. They, however, gave up the point for fear
of the batteries; and we soon after left the Bay and joined the fleet
preparing to anchor in Tetuan Bay, until his lordship was made
acquainted of the combined fleet being at sea and standing up the
Straits. The next morning, the 19th of October, the weather ‘rather
hazy, a kind of a mizzle,’ the admiral made the signal to prepare for
battle, the wind having shifted to the eastward, and the enemy in sight.
His lordship soon after made the signal to bear up and sail large
through the Gut, it not being his intention to engage until clear of the
Straits. The enemy’s fleet stood after us with every sail they could
pack. It was a very beautiful sight to observe the evolutions of the two
fleets and a fair trial of who could sail best. I well remember the
Victory, Edgar, Raisonnable, and Royal William, with their topsails on
the cap, running ahead of some with topgallant sails set. Our old ship,
once called the Flying Panther, would have out-sailed any of them, had
her masts not been altered. As we and the old Buffalo were not in the
line of battle, because we had charge of the convoy before we saw them
safe in, we imagined our station would be with the frigates to look on
and see the fun, and we were laughing to think we should have a cool
view of a battle, and one of the officers (who had read a little)
observed he should be like Scipio the Younger, who, when sent on a
mission to Africa, saw from an eminence a battle between that old
vagabond Masinissa and the poor Carthaginians that lasted from morning
until night. ‘But mortal joys, alas! are fleeting;’ for behold Lord Howe
made our signal to come within hail; and while passing under the stern
of the Victory we received directions to take our station in the line of
battle between the Ruby and the Foudroyant in the van division. Nothing
more about Scipio and Masinissa! The Buffalo was sent to the rear
between the Union, 90, and Vengeance, 74. What do you say to that,
Lieutenant Marshall, in your _Naval Biography_?
It took the fleet the whole day to clear the Gut. The next morning, off
Cape Spartel, the signal was made to form the line of battle on the
starboard tack and to prepare for action; the enemy coming down in line
of battle abreast, with light winds and every sail set, making numerous
signals, which had a very fine effect, as every ship repeated the signal
and their fleet had the appearance of being dressed in colours. Our line
was drawn up in the finest style, and so close and correct that you
could only see the ship ahead and the other astern.
So close their order, so disposed their fight,
As Pallas’ self might view with fixed delight;
Or had the God of war inclined his eyes,
The God of war had owned a just surprise.
Owing to the light winds and the enemy repeatedly hauling up and then
bearing away, it was near 6 P.M. before he formed his line. A
three-decker (supposed to be the Royal Louis) leading his van began the
action by firing into the Goliath, who led ours. The action continued
from 6 P.M. until ¾ past 10; the van and rear chiefly engaged; the
centre had little to do. The enemy’s centre extended to our rear-most
ship, so that eleven or twelve of them (the whole of their rear) never
fired a shot. We had four killed and sixteen wounded; among the former
Mr. Robert Sturges, midshipman doing duty as mate, a gentleman highly
respected and lamented by every officer and man on board. I was placed
with another youngster under his care, and he took the greatest pains to
teach us our duty. He was as brave a fellow as ever lived, and when his
thigh was nearly shot off by the hip, he cheered the men when dying. It
was a spent shot that killed him, and weighed 28 pounds; and what was
remarkable, it took off at the same time the leg of a pig in the sty
under the forecastle.[23]
I had a very narrow escape while standing on the quarter deck with
Captain Forrester of the marines. The first lieutenant (the late Admiral
Alexander Fraser) came up to us, and while speaking a shot passed
between us and stuck on the larboard side of the quarter deck. We were
very close at the time, so that it could only have been a few inches
from us. It knocked the speaking trumpet out of Fraser’s hand, and
seemed to have electrified Captain Forrester and myself. The shot was
cut out and weighed either 12 or 18 pounds—I forget which. Our rigging
fore and aft was cut to pieces; the booms and boats also, and every
timber head on the forecastle, with the sheet and spare anchor stocks,
were shot away, and the fluke of the latter. Our side, from the foremost
gun to the after, was like a riddle, and it was astonishing that we had
not more killed and wounded. Several shot-holes were under water, and
our worthy old carpenter (Mr. Cock) had very near been killed in the
wing, and was knocked down by a splinter, but not materially hurt. The
enemy set off in the night and could only be seen from the masthead in
the morning. It was supposed they went for Cadiz.
A curious circumstance took place during the action. Two of the boys who
had gone down for powder fell out in consequence of one attempting to
take the box from the other, when a regular fight took place. It was
laughable to see them boxing on the larboard side, and the ship in hot
action on the starboard. One of our poor fellows was cut in two by a
double-headed shot on the main deck, and the lining of his stomach
(about the size of a pancake) stuck on the side of the launch, which was
stowed amidships on the main deck with the sheep inside.[24] The butcher
who had the care of them, observing what was on the side of the boat,
began to scrape it off with his nails, saying, ‘Who the devil would have
thought the fellow’s paunch would have stuck so? I’m damned if I don’t
think it’s glued on!’
We had a fellow by the name of Mulligan who ran from his quarters and
positively hid in the coppers! and had put on the drummer’s jacket. When
the firing had ceased he was seen coming out, and was taken for the poor
drummer, and ran forward taking off the jacket, which he hid in the
round house; but one of the boatswain’s mates observed the transaction
and Mr. Mulligan got well flogged just as the action was over. The poor
drummer had greatly distinguished himself, and had taken off his jacket
in the heat of the action, which this fellow stole to hide his
rascality.
[Lists of the fleet, killed and wounded, of detachments to the West
Indies and the coast of Ireland, follow. They are in close agreement
with the lists given by Schomberg (_Naval Chronology_, iv. 390 _seq._)
and were probably copied from them, or the published lists which
Schomberg reproduced. In any case, they have no special authority and
are therefore omitted.
In November, on the Panther’s arriving at Plymouth, where Vice-Admiral
Lord Shuldham had his flag in the Dunkirk—]
a court martial was held on board the Dunkirk on one of our midshipmen
(Mr. Foularton) on some trifling charge brought against him by
Lieutenant Hanwell of the Dublin, on which he was fully acquitted. One
of our main-top men (Martin Anguin), in sending down the topgallant
mast, fell from the fore part of the main topmast crosstrees and pitched
on the collar of the main stay, from which he went down, astern of the
barge upon the booms, into the hold, the gratings being off. He was sent
to the hospital without a fractured limb, but much bruised about the
breast. He recovered and came on board to receive his pay on the day the
ship was paid off. Such a fall and to escape with life, I believe is not
to be found in the annals of naval history.[25] Hoisted the flag (blue
at the fore) of Vice-Admiral Milbanke as port admiral, second in
command.
The peace soon after taking place, a mutiny broke out in the men of war,
and some of the ships began to unrig without orders, and were in a high
state of insubordination, particularly the Blenheim, Crown, Standard,
Medway, and Artois. I do not remember that any examples were made, but
this I am sure of, that the ringleaders richly deserved hanging. Having
received orders we dismantled the ship and struck Admiral Milbanke’s
flag, and in a few days after the old Panther was paid off to the great
regret of every officer on board. It was like the parting of a family
who had lived long together in the strictest friendship; and while
writing this, it brings to mind many circumstances that make me bitterly
lament the inroads death has made among those worthy fellows.
The stroke of fate the bravest cannot shun:
The great Alcides, Jove’s unequall’d son,
To Juno’s hate at length resigned his breath,
And sunk the victim of all-conquering death.
Before closing my account of the Panther, I must relate a few anecdotes
that happened during the time I belonged to her. I was placed with
another youngster, by the name of Owen, under the tuition of the
captains of the fore and main top. We were both in the same watch, which
we kept first in one top and then in the other, to learn to knot and
splice and to reef a sail; and for their attention we remunerated them
with our grog. I remember the captain of the fore top (Joe Moulding), a
very droll fellow, teaching us what he called a catechism, which we were
obliged to repeat to him at two bells in every middle watch. It was as
follows: