the fore topsail yard and filled the main topgallant sail; run
down the lee leach of the mizen and hauled the main tack on
board, that all the devils in hell could not raise it; clapped a
sheepshank on the main mast, a bowline knot on the foremast, and
an overhand knot on the mizen mast; run the keel athwart ships,
coiled the cables in the binnacle, tossed the quarter deck
overboard, and made a snug ship for that night; when up jumped
the little boy Fraser with a handspike stuck in his jaws to fend
the seas off, with which he beat them into peas porridge, and
happy was the man who had the longest spoon. AMEN!!’[26]
After repeating this rigmarole we were obliged to start up to the mast
head, if topgallant yards were across, to blow the dust out of the
topgallant clueline blocks. One night, blowing and raining like the
devil, I proposed to Owen about five bells in the middle watch to steal
down out of the top and take the raisins that were intended for the
pudding next day. When we got down to our berth we found the raisins
were mixed with the flour and we had the devil’s own job to pick them
out. After filling our pockets, one of the watch came down for grog and
found us out. We ran off as fast as we could and got in the weather main
rigging, where poor Owen was caught, seized up and made a spread eagle
of for the remainder of the watch and part of the next. I made my escape
and remained some time on the collar of the main stay, until all was
quiet. One of the watch came up, but not finding me in the top gave over
chase; but I got cobbed in the morning, and no pudding for dinner.
While in Hamoaze we had a draught of Irish Volunteers, about sixty in
number. One of them was seven feet high, and when the hands were turned
up to muster on the quarter deck, he stood like Saul the King of Israel,
with head and shoulders above the host. This man used to head his
countrymen when on shore upon leave, and was the terror of the people
about Dock,[27] particularly North Corner Street, flourishing an Irish
shillelah of enormous size, [so] that the constables when called out
would fly like chaff at the very sight of him. He was, like the rest of
his countrymen, honest and brave, and very inoffensive, but woe betide
those that insulted him. Being in the dockyard returning stores, some of
the shipwrights called him a walking flagstaff; for which compliment he
gave two or three of them a terrible beating, and then challenged to
fight twelve of the best men among them, taking two a day, but the
challenge was not accepted from so queer a customer.
The night before we were paid off our ship’s company gave a grand supper
and the lower deck was illuminated. Several female visitors were of the
party from Castlerag and other fashionable places,[28] who danced jigs
and reels the whole of the night, with plenty of grog and flip; and what
was remarkable, not a soul was drunk in the morning.
I must here mention that my shipmates, though brave as lions, were given
to superstition, as the following will show. After poor Sturges was
killed it was given out that he was often seen in the tier, and
sometimes in the cockpit. This had such an effect that not one of the
midshipmen would stay below by himself. I remember one of them (Sm.
Simmonds) falling asleep on the table in the starboard wing berth; and
the rest going on deck, he was left alone. When he awoke, he took to his
heels and ran up to the gunroom, where he fainted away and remained so a
long time. When he came to, he declared that he saw poor Sturges
standing in the berth as pale as death and looking steadfastly at him.
This story worked so much upon the minds of the others that they took
good care to have company at all times when left below. I had the shot
that killed my worthy friend, and intended to have brought it home; but
by some means it was lost or stolen on the morning of pay day.
While lying in Hamoaze our midshipmen carried on a roaring trade when
rowing guard in the middle watch. They would sometimes set off to
Catwater to visit a house where a very handsome girl lived, who would
get up at any hour to make flip for them and felt highly flattered at
their calling her Black-eyed Susan. I have sometimes been of the party
and well recollect the many escapes we have had in carrying sail to get
back in time, as the passage from Catwater to Hamoaze is rather a rough
one in blowing weather, and the boat would frequently be gunwale under,
so that I often thought my life was at stake.
I should have mentioned that our ship’s company mutinied as well as the
other ships,[29] and some of our midshipmen that were obnoxious went on
shore before the ship was paid off. A gentleman whose name I shall not
give, and who had joined us in Hamoaze, had unluckily given some umbrage
to the men, and was one of those who kept out of the way; but after the
ship was paid off some of the fellows met him at the bottom of North
Corner Street and took him on board of a collier and gave him a ducking.
After leaving the old Panther several of the officers were put on board
the Rose transport for a passage to Portsmouth; but the wind being
unfavourable for more than a fortnight, we left the Rose and her
mutinous lot of scoundrels, she being ordered somewhere else. We were
then transferred to the Hope transport, and after considerable delay we
sailed for Portsmouth with a fine breeze from the westward, which soon
after changed to the eastward, and blew like the devil. We were nine
days turning up Channel[30]; however, we had a glorious set on board,
and the master of the vessel (whose name I forget) did everything in the
most handsome manner to make us comfortable. On the tenth day we arrived
at Spithead, and on my landing at Gosport I found my poor grandmother at
the point of death. She wished much to see me before she died. I
followed her to the grave where she was interred alongside of my
grandfather, Captain James Gardner, Royal Navy.
OFFICERS’ NAMES
SIR FRANCIS W. DRAKE, Vice-Admiral.[31]
Dead. Admiral.
MARK MILBANKE, Vice-Admiral.
Dead [1805]. Admiral of the white.—[_D.N.B._]
THOS. PIERCY, Captain.
Dead. An excellent officer; he was taken prisoner[32] with Sir
Richard Pearson by Paul Jones.
ROBT. SIMONTON, Captain.
Dead. An excellent officer. After repeated applications for
employment which he could not obtain, he was made, on the
promotion of flags, a rear-admiral on the retired list. He
commanded the Superb, 74, in the East Indies (1779–81), and had
seen a great deal of service.
RICHARD DORREL, 1st Lieutenant.
A commander; a good officer.
FRANCIS BROOKS, 2nd Lieutenant.
Dead. A good officer.
MONTAGU, 3rd Lieutenant.
Dead. A good officer.
ALEXANDER FRASER, 1st Lieutenant.
Dead [1829]. A vice-admiral of the red; a very smart
officer.—[Marshall, ii. 458.]
[JAMES] MURRAY, 2nd Lieutenant.
Dead. A quiet, good fellow.
TILLMAN, Acting Lieutenant.
Uncertain.
[JOHN] WADE, Master.
Dead. A brave and meritorious officer.
[BEN.] FORRESTER, Captain of Marines.
Dead. As brave and generous a soul as ever lived, but thoughtless,
and died unfortunate.
GEO. NOBLE, Lieutenant of Marines.
Dead. A captain in the militia, a brave and generous fellow.
[ROBERT] ANDERSON, Surgeon.
Dead. Highly respected.
[JAMES] MALCOLM, Surgeon.
Dead. Highly respected. See Edgar.
[JOHN] PRICE, Purser.
Dead. I want words to express my gratitude and respect for his
memory.
[JAMES] BRANDER, Boatswain.
Dead. A worthy veteran sailor.
[THOMAS] DAWSON, Boatswain.
Dead. A good seaman, but severe.
[JAMES] FRASER, Gunner.
Dead. Much respected; kept a stationer’s shop at Plymouth Dock.
COCK, Carpenter.
Dead. A good man; no dandy.
ROBERT STURGES, Mate.
Killed in battle [20th Oct. 1782]; a most worthy gentleman.
[THOMAS] CONNELL [Quarter gunner; Mid.], Mate and Acting Lieutenant.
Dead. A brave Irishman.
[EDWARD] FORSTER, Midshipman—[aftds. Mr’s Mate].
Dead. Herculean Irishman; a terror to the dockyard maties.
[THOMAS] WATSON, Midshipman.
Dead. A glorious noisy fellow.
SAMUEL SIMMONDS, Midshipman.
Dead. Called Yellow Sam.
[JAMES] TAYLOR, Midshipman.
Dead. A smart fellow.
[JAMES] TAYLOR 2nd, Midshipman.
Dead. A pilot at Deal, called South Sands Head.
[LUKE] CAMPBELL, [Clerk, then] Midshipman doing duty as Schoolmaster.
Dead. A very clever, good fellow.
[WILLIAM] NEATE, Midshipman.
Dead. _Neat_ in his dress; a fiery, good fellow.
JOHN FOULARTON, Midshipman.
Dead. A very brave fellow, but half mad.
RICHARD DANTON, Midshipman.
Dead. A respectable pilot at Deal.
MARTIN PERT HARTLEY, Midshipman.
Uncertain. A quiet, good fellow.
[ROBERT] SKIRRET, Midshipman.
Uncertain. A good-natured Irishman.
[ALEXANDER] THOMPSON, Surgeon’s Assistant.
Uncertain. A gentleman; skilful in his profession.
[RICHARD] PICKERING, Clerk.
Dead. A worthy fellow while on board, but turned out thoughtless
and unfortunate.
FLANAGAN, Under Clerk.
A Purser. A gentleman; since dead.
J. A. GARDNER, Midshipman. [Ord., 8th Feb. 1782; A.B., 1 Oct. 1782;
Mid., 1 Jan. 1783.]
A commander.
SALISBURY, 50
Stern tyrants whom their cruelties renown.—ADDISON.
I joined this old devil of a ship, properly called the Hell Afloat, in
December 1783 in Portsmouth Harbour. James Bradby, Esq., captain, and in
June 1784 hoisted the flag, white and then red, at the fore, of
Vice-Admiral John Campbell, F.R.S., as commander-in-chief and Governor
of Newfoundland, and sailed soon after. Nothing remarkable happened on
the passage to St. John’s, where we arrived in July; the following men
of war composing the squadron:—
Salisbury 50 {Vice-Admiral Campbell.
{Captain James Bradby
Santa Leocadia 36 Captain Alexander Edgar.
Proselyte 32 Captain Jonathan Faulknor, jun.
Æolus 32 Captain
Thisbe 28 Captain
Merlin 18 Captain J. Lumsdale
Echo 18 Captain Nichols.
Thorn 18 Captain Lechmere.
Lawrence brig Lieutenant Carter, acting.
If I remember correctly it was this year that an extraordinary court
martial was held on the master of the Proselyte for cutting the lanyards
of the weather main shrouds when the people were up reefing topsails.
The charge not being proved, he was acquitted. While laying in the
harbour, a French frigate with a commodore came in, saluted the admiral,
and remained a few days. The 28th October is the time for the men of war
to sail for England; but owing to unfavourable winds, we were not able
to leave St. John’s before November. The admiral having given permission
for any person that pleased to take home a dog, 75 were actually
embarked. We took our departure with a sloop of war in company. I am not
certain whether it was this year or the next, when about 60 leagues to
the SW of Scilly we were covered in the night with a flock of crows and
caught several. When near the Channel we fell in with a vessel from the
coast of Africa in want of provisions, the crew living on parrots and
monkeys, and in great distress; supplied them with provisions and parted
company, and after a passage of near three weeks arrived at Spithead,
and then into harbour, where we remained as a half-and-half guard-ship
until May, when the admiral hoisted his flag, and we soon after sailed
for our station, in company with a sloop of war.
When on the banks of Newfoundland, in a thick fog at night, going about
three knots, a field of ice struck us on the weather bow and carried
away the starboard bumpkin and head sails, besides knocking off several
sheets of copper. On the banks we picked up a cask of brandy covered
with weeds and barnacles, and saw the yards and spars of the
line-of-battle ships that were lost on and near the banks in the gale of
September 1782 on their passage to England from the West Indies. Fell in
with several islands of ice. Arrived at St. John’s, and remained there
the usual time. We had a brewery on shore which supplied the squadron
with spruce beer.[33] I was on shore at this brewery when one of our men
unfortunately fell into the boiling coppers and died the same day in a
most deplorable condition. It was said that the beer was sent off (of
course by mistake) to the squadron, and I think some little demur was
made about drinking it and it was sent back.
On the 29th of October (1785) we left St. John’s with a thundering gale
right aft. A merchant who had never been out of St. John’s harbour took
a passage for England. We had a tremendous sea following that almost
turned his brain with horror. One sea that measured heights with the
mizen peak had a prodigious effect upon him, and with a look I cannot
describe, he called out, ‘Lord, Lord, Lord, Have mercy on me, and pray
do let go the anchor!’ His bawling out so horribly, frightened the man
at the wheel so that the ship was in danger of broaching to. This gale
lashed us on at a devil of a rate, and we had 294 and 296 knots on the
log in 24 hours. Our passage was very short as far as the Lizard, when
the wind shifted to the eastward, and I think it was nineteen days
before we arrived at Spithead, having a dish of turnips[34] all the way
up Channel. Went into Portsmouth harbour, where the old Salisbury was
paid off the latter end of 1785 or beginning of 1786.
This was the most hateful and disagreeable ship I ever had my foot on
board of—so unlike the Panther. Mastheading upon every trifling
occasion. The senior midshipmen (with the exception of a few) were
tyrants; and petty tyrants are generally the worst. The captain was a
very good man at times, but often harsh and severe in his remarks. He
once told me (and I have never forgotten it) I would never be fit for
anything but the boatswain’s storeroom. This was because I was down with
the keys in my turn, a midshipman being always sent to see that lights
are not taken into the storeroom except in a lantern, which is the
custom in every man of war. He had missed me in the watch and thought I
was skulking; and though I explained to him how it happened, it was all
to no purpose. Great men don’t like to be put right. I well remember the
cutting taunt; but I thank God his prophecy did not come to pass, as the
certificates I am proud to say I produced from some of the first
officers in the service will testify; and when I went to pass for
lieutenant at Somerset House, the commissioners told me my certificates
would get me promoted without interest. Upon this hint I transmitted
them to Earl Spencer, the first lord of the admiralty, and by return of
post he gave me a commission and appointed me second lieutenant of the
Hind, 28. This may be considered as sounding my own trumpet. It may be
so; but it is the truth. Enough of this digression, and let me return to
the old bundle of boards and relate a few circumstances.
I have positively, after keeping the first watch while in the harbour of
St. John’s, been turned out with other youngsters, to keep the morning
watch and most of the forenoon without being relieved. Had we complained
we knew what we had to expect from the overgrown tyrants, some of whom
were members of the Hell-fire Club. I remember my old messmate, Ben
Morgan (poor fellow! now dead and gone), having the lower part of his
ear detached from his head because he kicked a little at the tyranny.
Our admiral was a great astronomer and took delight in lunar
observation. One Sunday morning he sent four of us down with Pye the
schoolmaster to work a lunar. While we were below, the hands were turned
up to muster, and we were going to attend, but Pye said there was no
occasion. Presently down came the quartermaster saying Lieutenant Stiles
(who had the watch) wanted us. On going up he, in a very knowing way,
demanded why we were not up to muster, and on our acquainting him with
the reason he said it was all very well, and it would be better if we
were to step up to the masthead and look out for squalls, as it was too
thick to take a lunar. So two of us (I was one) were sent to the main
topmast head and two to the fore, where we remained some hours. This was
on the banks; a thick fog having just come on, with drops from the
topgallant rigging which wetted us through in a short time; but that was
of no consideration. On another trifling occasion, the same worthy was
going to trice me up to the mizen peak, but this he thought better of. I
could relate many more cases, but let this be sufficient. Lieutenant
Stiles lately died a rear-admiral. One of the laws of Solon says, ‘Speak
not ill of the dead; no, not if their sons offend you.’ I shall attend
to this and say no more on the subject until I come to the Edgar, and
then naught in malice.
When at St. Johns, a playhouse was got up by Graham, the admiral’s
secretary, with considerable ability, and several of the officers used
to perform. The scenery was very good and did Mr. Graham a deal of
credit. Only the favoured few could get leave to see the performance.
The kindhearted first lieutenant would send us that were not descended
from the Kings of Cappadocia and Pontus on board at sunset, for fear we
should catch cold if we stayed out late. This was making game; and I
remember some of us meeting the admiral, who kindly gave us leave to
pick fruit in his gardens for two hours, when this same Lieutenant
Deacon happened to come up at the time; and when the admiral was gone,
he started us on board, when we had not been there a quarter of an hour,
saying he was fearful the fruit would gripe us. Kind soul!—the devil
thank him. He was a most facetious gentleman, and when a seaman once
asked him for slops, he replied, ‘Certainly, my man, what slops do you
want?’ ‘A jacket, sir, if you please.’ ‘And cannot you think of
something else?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ says the man, ‘I will be glad of a shirt
and trowsers.’ ‘Very well, you shall have them. But do think of
something more that you stand in need of,’ ‘Why, sir,’ says the man, ‘If
you have no objection I should like a pair of shoes and stockings, and a
smock frock.’[35] ‘Very well, my man, you shall have them all in good
time. I expect a vessel in with some blue chalk from the Straits of
Baffleman, and then I shall chalk out all your wants; so be off, or I
shall get the boatswain’s mate to measure you with the end of the fore
brace before her arrival, which you may think rather premature.’
When asking him for leave to go on shore he would frequently say, ‘As
soon as I have time to chalk you out a barge to take you, I shall attend
to this most important business.’ Once on a rainy day he was making some
of those remarks, when his foot slipped and he fell on his bottom on the
quarter deck. One of the lieutenants said, ‘Had the deck been chalked,
sir, it would have saved your fall.’ This vexed him greatly, and seeing
us laugh he started us up to the masthead for the remainder of the
watch, saying, ‘Take care! As the rigging is not chalked you may slip
and get an ugly fall.’
I have already mentioned our bringing home 75 dogs. I messed in the main
hatchway berth on the lower deck, with four midshipmen and a scribe. We
had eight of those dogs billeted on us. One of them had the name of
Thunder. At dinner I once gave him a piece of beef with plenty of
mustard rolled up in it. The moment he tasted it, he flew at me and I
was obliged to run for it. He never forgot it, and whenever I offered
him victuals he would snap at me directly. Another of those dogs used to
sleep at the foot of Charley Bisset’s cot, and when the quartermaster
would call the watch this dog would fly at him if he came near Bisset,
who would often plead ignorance of being called, and by that means
escape going on deck for the first hour of the watch. We had a drunken
Irishman, by the name of Collins, who, when sent to the hospital at St.
John’s, contrived to get liquor in spite of all precaution to prevent
it. At last it was found out by the following circumstance. He had one
of those dogs that could do anything but speak. He used to sling a
bottle round his neck and then put a shilling in his mouth and send him
off in the evening. The dog knew well where to go, for he had been often
there with Collins. It was to a public-house, between the hospital and
St. John’s. He’d howl as soon as he got there; the landlord knew well
what he wanted, and would fill the bottle with rum. The dog would then
drop the shilling, but not before, and scamper off to return to his
master; not at the gate of the hospital—he was too cunning for that—but
like a Roman conqueror, through a hole in the wall; when one night he
was discovered by the watch going their rounds, and by that means the
business was brought to light. From the ingenuity of the master and his
dog, both escaped punishment.
Our armourer was a man who would drink like a fish, and one morning
coming to the brewery complaining of thirst, the cooper, a droll and
wicked fellow, gave him some essence of spruce, and the armourer took a
good swig before he found out his mistake. The moment he could speak he
asked what it was he had taken. The cooper said he was very sorry for
what had happened, but he thought it right to acquaint him it was some
stuff they had to poison rats. The armourer was struck dumb with terror,
but at last, in a paroxysm of rage, swore that the cooper should die
first; and drawing out a large knife, gave chase and certainly would
have put an end to his joking had he not locked himself up in the
brewery in great tribulation, as the armourer was trying all in his
power to break open the door. However, the poor fellow was at last made
sensible it was a joke, and had some double spruce given him to make
amends—which had the desired effect.
Our second assistant surgeon was another wet soul, and coming from the
play half drunk went to sleep in an empty cask that was lying on
Quigley’s Wharf, when a squall of wind rolled the cask overboard and
poor old Andrew Reardon would have been drowned, had it not been for the
boat-keeper of the cutter. Old Andrew is now dead. He dearly loved grog,
and when told that new rum was a bad article he said he didn’t care; if
it fractured the brain it was all he wanted.
With a few exceptions we had a terrible lot of wild midshipmen. Some of
them were members of the Hell-fire Club,[36] and used to dress, when
going to that place, in scarlet coats with black velvet collars and
cuffs, black waistcoat, breeches, and stockings, and hair powdered.
Those chaps would play all manner of wicked pranks on board, such as
pouring molasses under the heads of those who slept in the tier, and
others would have a hook and line with which they’d haul our quilts and
blankets off in the night, and then heave water over us, at the same
time making a squeaking noise; while others, in the secret, would say it
was the gibbering of a ghost, and that the tier was haunted; but that
they would ask the parson (a wet soul) to lay the spirit, not in the Red
Sea, but in the large pond near St. Johns. One poor fellow, a clerk
whose name was Newnham, but nicknamed Newcome, they got in the tier one
night in the dark, and swore it was the admiral’s cow that had got
adrift. It was no use for the poor fellow to say he was not that
personage; for a selvagee was clapped round him in an instant with a
hauling line made fast, with which they roused him up the hatchway in a
moment, terrified almost to death.
I must here mention the shifts my old messmate, Ben Morgan, and myself
were put to the last year we were at St. John’s. Our captain used to pay
our mess and washing bills, for which he was repaid on our return to
England. It happened one morning when the washing bill was sent in, that
he observed our towels were inserted with other articles; upon which he
sent for us, and after a severe reprimand upon our extravagance, adding
that we ought to have washed the towels ourselves, he dismissed us,
saying he should give no more money to be fooled away in that manner,
and that we deserved to be well flogged in the bargain. We were glad
enough to steer clear of him. In respect of the money he was as good as
his word; for devil a farthing more would he let us have, and we were
sadly put to it; for we had only Tom Cod (caught alongside) for
breakfast, salt beef or pork for dinner, and Tom Cod for tea in the
evening. At last we in some measure got over our difficulties by going
to the hills and gathering a weed called maidenhair, a good substitute
for tea; and with molasses instead of sugar, poor Ben and myself fared
gloriously.
While at St. John’s two of our seamen deserted and got into the woods on
their way to an out port; and they had nearly been devoured by the
wolves who attacked them in a hut, where they remained three days
without provisions, and had great difficulty and danger in coming back
to the ship, where they were treated with two dozen apiece.