has greatly fallen off and grass grows in the streets. It contains many
churches and other superb buildings, particularly the Grand Duke’s
palace in the Lung’ Arno, the Hospital, and Exchange. There are three
bridges over the Arno, one of them of marble. Several Roman antiquities
are to be seen. It was our intention to have gone to Lucca and from
thence to Florence; but all sublunary things are vain, as we were
ordered to sea sooner than was expected, and returned to Leghorn after
five days’ absence, where we dined at an excellent ordinary at one of
the best houses in the city. We had a strong party of English officers
at the dinner, some of whom got rather merry before the cloth was off
the table, and catching hold of the waiter they rolled him in the cloth
with plates and dishes, the fellow roaring out all the while to no
purpose. One midshipman took a loaf and let if fall out of the window
(we were on the second floor) upon the jaw of an Italian in the street,
which floored him, while others pelted legs and wings of fowls at those
looking out of the opposite windows; but to their kind forbearance
everything was taken as a joke and only laughed at. Would this have been
the case in England?—where every hole and corner has a board threatening
prosecution, and if you pass two or three stopping in the street, their
conversation will be about law, hanging, or trade.
Sallied out in the evening and went to a house in Scratch Alley—you that
have been at Leghorn I daresay know the place well. In the middle of
this lane lived an old woman of enormous size, who was named the
Boatswain of Scratch Alley. Saw a figure there I never shall forget—a
fellow dressed as a lady, with a fine cap trimmed with blue ribbon and a
white frock on, a face like Vulcan with a long black beard. When he came
in the room we were sitting in, he danced a fandango and cut such
astonishing capers that my old messmate Vosper said drily, ‘Gardner, if
that fellow is not the devil he must be his near relation.’ The next
evening three of us took a cruise, and, it being very late before we
returned, our lodging was shut up and with difficulty we got entrance to
a house near the Mole. The accommodations vile in the extreme; only one
bed, with sheets as if a sweep had slept in them. At this time it began
to rain with drops as big as pistol balls, which obliged us to stay
where we were. However, we sat on the chairs, but got very little sleep
for the rats and people passing and re-passing to a sewer at the end of
the room. The morning luckily turned out fine, and after clearing our
uniforms of a few bugs that thought fit to billet themselves on us
without being invited, we gladly started from this infernal hotel to
breathe the fresh air. Went to Montenero, where the learned Smelfungus
has a monument near his remains.[99]
Having received orders to sail immediately and join the squadron under
Vice-Admiral Hotham off Toulon, we first put into St. Fiorenzo for a
short time. Went to see the Mortella tower that beat off the Fortitude,
74, and Juno frigate; the former ship had upwards of sixty killed and
wounded, and was on fire in several places from the red-hot shot. This
tower had but two guns; one of them was dismounted during the attack and
defended by twenty Frenchmen, only one of whom was killed. The tower was
taken by mounting some guns on a spot that overlooked it.[100]
Sailed from St. Fiorenzo and joined the squadron. Our captain, Sir John
Collins, being ill, we had Captain William Shield acting. Sir John soon
after departed this life and was committed to the deep. Sixteen minute
guns were fired at the funeral to denote the number of years he had been
a post captain. Sir John was a well-meaning man, but fractious from long
illness. He died with the gout in his head and stomach. The ship’s
company paid respect to his memory; they divided their black silk
handkerchiefs,[101] and wore one part round their hats and the other
round their arms, and requested they might see the corpse before the
interment; which request was granted, and they walked through the cabin
in ranks and bowed to the coffin while passing, and most of them in
tears—a sight truly impressive. Billy Shield remained with us about a
month after Sir John’s death, and then George Campbell, as good a fellow
as ever lived, took command.
I have already stated our reconnoitring the enemy’s fleet in the roads.
Out of many instances I shall mention one that had nearly been of
serious consequences. Having stood in with a fine breeze, the enemy
never fired a shot until we hove in stays. At this time it fell on a
sudden a dead calm, and we were within gunshot. They then began to blaze
away from all their forts, the red-hot shot flying in every direction. I
was looking out of the gunroom port when a shot came right under our
counter, which made the water hiss and had nearly struck the rudder. At
this time things looked queer, all the boats were hoisted out and began
to tow, but still we drifted in, the shot flying full half a mile beyond
us, when luckily a breeze came off the land and saved the Berwick from
being sunk or blown up, for she never would have been taken. Fortunately
we had none killed or wounded, which was astonishing, as the shot flew
like hail. Captain Campbell soon after left the ship, being appointed to
the Terrible, 74, and Captain George Henry Towry succeeded him.
Our squadron under Admiral Hotham consisted of eight sail of the line,
two of them three-deckers (the Britannia, 100, and St. George, 98) and
two frigates; and, after several weeks’ cruise, the French fleet put to
sea from Toulon with seven sail of the line, one of them a three-decker,
and six or seven frigates or smaller vessels. Now, mark me, several of
those ships had been put down as burnt at the evacuation of Toulon, but
now had the impudence to rise from their ashes like the Phœnix,[102] or
like the snake that had slept the winter, but on the return of spring
appears renewed in youth and with new fury burns:
Qualis ubi in lucem coluber, mala gramina pastus,
Frigida sub terra tumidum quem bruma tegebat,
Nunc positis novus exuviis, nitidusque juventa,
Lubrica convolvit sublato pectore terga,
Arduus ad solem, et linguis micat ore trisulcis.—_Aeneid._
_June 1794._—We were at dinner when the drum beat to quarters, and on
going upon deck saw the ‘Resurgam Squadron’ coming out, under topsails
and foresail, on the starboard tack, in line of battle, the Sans
Culotte,[103] 136 guns, their leading ship; the wind westerly; our
squadron standing in on the larboard tack, and to the best of my
recollection about three leagues from the enemy; and, had we stood on
and tacked, we should have got in their wake. But our admiral made a
signal—it being at this time evening—that a movement would take place
after dusk. Now, what do you think this movement was? Why, to bear up
and sail large! ‘Tell it not in Gath, nor publish it in the streets of
Askalon.’ The Meleager, 32, was left behind to watch the enemy. All this
appeared strange; but the admiral, we supposed, knew
What was what and that as high
As metaphysic wit could fly.
Now we had an opinion also, and that opinion was that the French might
have been brought to action that evening; at any rate we should have
prevented them from getting back to the roads, and could have attacked
them in the morning if a night action was considered hazardous. It was
said the admiral was fearful they should escape us and throw relief into
Calvi, at that time besieged. Whatever was the reason, off we set as if
hell kicked us and joined Lord Hood—I think the next day; and then, as
brave as Hercules, crowded sail with fourteen or fifteen sail of the
line and got sight of them the day after, in the morning, working in
near Gourjean Bay,[104] where they anchored in the afternoon under the
forts. Lord Hood made every preparation to attack them, and a general
chase with some hopes of success took place. We were ordered to attack
the fort on the starboard hand until the fleet had passed, and then to
follow; and the Illustrious, 74, was ordered against the frigates in the
other quarter in shore, near the other line-of-battle ships. But all
this ended in disappointment, as towards night the wind blew strong off
the land and the attack was given up in the morning, and we were
detached with the sick to St. Fiorenzo, and then to Calvi to assist in
the siege. It was here that Lord Nelson lost his eye and Captain
Serocold his life. We remained but a short time at Calvi and then
returned to St. Fiorenzo. The Yankee historian (James) gives a very
incorrect account of this; in fact, he says little or nothing about our
squadron under Admiral Hotham when the French put to sea; which appears
strange, as this calumniator always felt happy in finding fault with
naval officers, and here he missed a good opportunity.
While cruising in the Gulf of Genoa we picked up parts of the booms
belonging to the Ardent, 64, who had been missing a long time; and from
the appearance of the spars it was evident she was blown up with all
hands,[105] as nothing has been heard of her since. It was a sad
business that we did not bring the French to action the day they left
Toulon; the disappointment was bitterly felt by those who expected prize
money and promotion, and here a glorious opportunity was thrown away in
the most unaccountable manner. For personal bravery Admiral Hotham stood
pre-eminent; but it has been said he was not fit to command in chief,
but very able as a second. In the American war he greatly distinguished
himself, particularly when he was commodore on board the Preston, 50, he
engaged and would have taken a French 84,[106] one of D’Estaing’s
squadron, which a gale of wind coming suddenly on alone prevented; and
the public accounts respecting this action say, ‘Now for the glory and
honour of the British army.’
While speaking of the honour of the British navy, I must say a word or
two more about the seamen and marines. When Lord Hood besieged Bastia he
proposed to General Dundas, who commanded the troops, to make a joint
attack; but the general thought it too hazardous. Now Lord Hood had a
different opinion,
and while General Dundas
And his eighteen manœuvres sat still on the grass
he attacked the place with the seamen and marines who covered themselves
with glory and carried all the works, and Bastia was obliged to
surrender.
Having letters of recommendation to Lord Hood and to Admiral Goodall, I
went on board the Victory and was told by the secretary (McArthur), that
several were before me on the list for promotion; but if I would take my
chance his lordship would remove me to the Victory immediately. This I
thought would be of little service; and as the Gorgon, 44, was under
orders for England I requested to be sent on board of her and try my
interest at home. My request being granted, Captain Towry in the kindest
manner recommended me to Captain Wallis of the Gorgon, which kindness I
shall always remember, and am sorry that the service has lost by his
death so good an officer. He served with his Majesty[107] in the
Andromeda and Valiant.
Before leaving the Berwick I must mention a few droll hands that
belonged to her; and first I shall bring forward old Bell, the mate of
the hold. We pressed him and several mates of merchantmen out of a
cartel from Marseilles to Gibraltar, and put them on the quarter deck.
He was a hard-drinking man and also a hard-working man. We had a set on
board full of fun; and when old Bell was half seas over, they used to
paint his face with red ochre, his eyebrows blacked, large moustache,
with a flaxen wig made from the fag ends of the tiller rope; a cocked
hat over all, tied under the chin; his shirt off and his body painted
like an ancient Briton. In this costume I have seen him chasing the
midshipmen through the tier with a drawn sword, a fit subject for a
pencil like Hogarth’s.
Next to him was old Collier, who drank like a fish, and when drunk used
to sing the Thirty-fourth Psalm and prognosticate that the ship would
founder with all hands. They used to make fast his shirt sleeves at the
wrist and then haul the shirt over his head, so that he could not clear
his hands. In this situation he would be powdered and painted, with a
red night cap on his head, and placed alongside of old Bell, while the
whole cockpit would be in a roar.
We had a little slovenly surgeon’s mate whose name was Vag. The
midshipmen annoyed him sadly by calling out Vag-Veg-Vig-Vog-Vug, while
others in a cockney cadence would sing out Wig-Wag-Wog, which enraged
him almost to madness. I happened to come into the berth where he was
sitting at a time they were calling out as above, when he, without any
provocation on my part, snatched up the snuffers and with the sharp end
stabbed me in the chest and then run a-muck after the rest, who were
glad enough to steer clear of him.
Some of our lads had a custom of taking an afternoon’s nap, particularly
Graves, who went with me to Pisa. The others, always on the watch for
mischief, would clap a spritsail yard upon his nose. This was done by
cutting a notch on the outside of a piece of hoop and bending it so as
to form a forceps and then put it on the nose like a spring. The first
time it was fixed he started up and swore lustily that a rat (for we had
hundreds of them on board) had seized him by the nose. On another
occasion some wicked fellow made a curious mark on his forehead with
caustic that remained for several weeks.
Our chaplain was a learned gentleman and always going on shore to make
researches after antiquities. When we sailed from Toulon he was left
behind; and on making his escape (so we were told) when the enemy
entered, he got upon a wall where a rope ladder was placed about ten
feet high. When he got on the top the ladder gave way and he had no
means of alighting on the other side, and was afraid to jump down. In
this predicament a party of French came up and one of them let fly a
stone, which fortunately for him first struck the wall and then hit him
on the hip, and canted him the right way; and by that means he luckily
made his escape to the boats with little hurt, but damnably frightened.
In the gale of July 1793, when we carried away our main topmast and half
the main top, an arm chest full of black pieces[108] fell out of the top
with thundering sound upon the quarter deck, and several of the muskets
stuck with their muzzles in the deck, which bent some of the barrels.
Old Billy Chantrell, our first lieutenant, taking up one of them, said
with a grin, ‘I shall take this home; it will do when I go a-shooting to
kill sparrows round a hayrick.’ When it fell it was within an inch of
his head, and he was knocked down with a piece of the chest which broke
through the netting. I passed a very happy life during the time I
belonged to the Berwick and parted with many valuable friends with deep
regret. Our first lieutenant (Chantrell), Mr. Chas. Duncan, the master,
and Tomlinson, the clerk, left the ship at the same time and joined the
Gorgon as supernumeraries for a passage to England; and also two of my
old shipmates, Yetts and Allardice, formerly of the Edgar, invalided
home, which made the Gorgon very agreeable to me. The following are the
names of the officers:—
SIR JOHN COLLINS, Knt., Captain.
Dead. A good man but fractious from severe illness; he commanded
the Ruby, 64, detached from the grand fleet at the relief of
Gibraltar, 1782, being one of eight sail of the line sent to
reinforce the fleet in the West Indies. On the passage she
captured, after a smart action, the Solitaire, a French 64, for
which Captain Collins was knighted.
WM. SHIELD, Esq., Captain.
A retired rear-admiral. [Died 1842.—Marshall, iii. 89.]
GEO. CAMPBELL, Esq., Captain.
Dead. A vice-admiral; a better fellow never existed. [As a
rear-admiral, second in command under Nelson off Toulon 1803–4.
Died, admiral and G.C.B., in 1821.]
GEO. HENRY TOWRY, Esq., Captain.
Dead [1808]. In him the service lost a most worthy officer.
WILLIAM CHANTRELL, 1st Lieutenant.
Dead. See Barfleur.
WILLIAM BULLOCK, 2nd Lieutenant.
Dead. A commander; well-meaning and droll.
CHAS. STEWART [or STUART], 3rd Lieutenant.
Dead [1814]. A post captain [1796]; gouty and proud.
NISBET PALMER, 4th Lieutenant.
Dead [1811]. He commanded the Alacrity, an 18-gun brig, in the
Mediterranean, and was captured by a French brig of the same
force. In the action Captain Palmer was wounded and died soon
after. James in his _Naval History_ [v. 248 _seq._] gives a sad
account of this. He says, ‘Capt. Palmer was only wounded in the
finger, that he ordered the colours to be struck to an enemy of
equal force, and that his death was occasioned by a locked jaw.’
In justice to the memory of Captain Palmer it must be recollected
that the Alacrity was weakly manned—a great number of her crew
being absent in prizes. The Yankee historian must have known this,
but he had not the generosity to state it. [James does state it;
but nevertheless comments very severely on the conduct of Palmer;
not unmindful, perhaps, of the fact that by the death of the
captain, he was commanding officer of the Berwick when captured on
March 7, 1795.]
THOMAS SHIRLEY, 5th Lieutenant.
Dead. Half mad, but good-natured.
CHAS. DUNCAN, Master.
A superannuated master attendant; a very good man.
[JOHN] DODGSON, Surgeon.
Dead. A worthy fellow.
THOS. L. YATES, Purser.
Dead. Generous and thoughtless.
[ALEXANDER JOHN] SCOTT, Chaplain.
A Doctor of Divinity; was with Lord Nelson on board the Victory at
Trafalgar. [Died 1840.—_D.N.B._]
[HECTOR] TAUSE, Gunner.
Dead. Crabbed.
PHILIP MYERS, Carpenter.
Dead. A droll fellow.
[JOSEPH] KEMBLE, Boatswain.
Uncertain. A snappish cur.
EDWARD HUTCHINSON, Mate.
A commander; a good officer; a good navigator; a good seaman and a
most worthy messmate. [Captain, retired, 1840; died
1851.—O’Byrne.]
ROBT. TUCKER, Mate.
A commander; a good seaman, but given to drinking. [Died, retired
captain, 1846.—O’Byrne.]
J. A. GARDNER, Mate.
A commander.
WM. VOSPER, Signal midshipman.
Lieutenant of the Royal Asylum, Greenwich Hospital. We were at
three schools together at Gosport, and in two ships; a very able
officer and seaman.
JAMES VALOBRA, Midshipman.
A commander; a very worthy fellow. [Died 1861.—O’Byrne.]
AUGUSTUS COLLINS, Midshipman; son of the captain.
Dead. I believe a commander.
JOHN GRAVES, Midshipman.
Dead. A lieutenant. Poor Jack was a worthy fellow.
JAMES GALLOWAY, Midshipman.
A commander [1806], out-pension. [Died 1846.—Marshall, x. 345;
O’Byrne.]
JOHN LAWRENCE, Midshipman.
A post captain [1817]; C.B. [Died 1849.—Marshall, viii. 123;
O’Byrne.]
[RICHARD] SCOVELL, Midshipman.
Killed in battle.
[NICHOLAS] LE BAIR, Midshipman.
Poor fellow! was taken in the Berwick, and died in French prison.
[DD. in the pay-book, April 19, 1795. Toulon.]
ALEX. MACKENZIE, Midshipman.
Dead [1825]. A post captain. This man, when he was a midshipman,
used to sneak after the lieutenants; when made a lieutenant,
sneaking after the captains, and when made a captain, was at his
old tricks, sneaking after the admirals. Had he lived to be made a
flag officer, he would have sneaked after the devil.—[Marshall,
vii. 75.]
JOHN ROSE, Midshipman.
A commander; a good fellow.
[WILLIAM] BARBER, Midshipman.
Dead. A lieutenant; a good fellow.
[THOMAS] PITT, Midshipman.
Uncertain. I believe a master.
[THOMAS] HEWLETT, Midshipman.
A master; I believe dead.
[JOHN] BELL, Mate of the hold.
Uncertain. A droll fellow; drank hard.
[WALTER] DEMPSTER, Midshipman.
Uncertain. A quiet, good fellow.
[JOHN] COLLIER, Midshipman.
Uncertain. Good natured; drank hard.
LORD PROBY, Midshipman.
Dead [1804]. A post captain. [William Allen Proby, eldest son of
the first Earl of Carysfort.]
JOHN LAMBRICK, Midshipman.
A commander.—[O’Byrne.]
WM. MCCULLOCH, Midshipman.
Dead [1825]. A post captain [1814]; a smart officer.—[Marshall,
vii. 398.]
JOHN BRIGGS, 1st Assistant Surgeon.
A surgeon R.N.; a most worthy gentleman.
[HENRY] VAGG, 3rd Assistant Surgeon.
Uncertain. A sloven; Vig-Vag-Vog-Vug.
GORGON, 44
UPON TWO DECKS
Adieu, ye vales, that smiling peace bestow
Where Eden’s blossoms ever vernal blow,
Ye fairy scenes where fancy loves to dwell,
And young delight, for ever, oh, farewell!—_Falconer._
In July 1794 I joined the Gorgon, Captain James Wallis, at St. Fiorenzo,
and after considerable delay sailed for Gibraltar with the convoy bound
for England under Vice-Admiral P. Cosby, who had his flag on board the
Alcide, 74. The following men of war, to the best of my recollection, in
company:—
Alcide 74 Vice-Admiral Cosby
Commerce de Marseilles[109] 136
Gorgon 44
Pearl[109] 36
Topaze[109] 36
St. Fiorenzo 36
Modeste 32
We had a very pleasant passage to Gibraltar, where we remained some time
in the New Mole, and then started for Cadiz to take in money and to join
the convoy assembling there for England. On the passage we got on shore
a few leagues to the southward of Cadiz, and had very near taken up our
quarters on the shoals, and, what was remarkable, a frigate had been
sent before us for the same purpose, but got on shore in this place, and
was obliged to return, and we (being clever) after laughing at the
circumstance, were sent to repair her errors and went bump on shore on
the very spot. The America, 64, having arrived at Cadiz to take charge
of the convoy, we were put under her orders, and having got on board the
money, sailed with the convoy for Lisbon.
Farewell and adieu, ye fair Spanish Ladies,
Farewell and adieu, ye Ladies of Spain;
For we’ve received orders to sail for old England,
In hopes in short time for to see you again.—_Old Song._
After a passage of near three weeks we arrived in the Tagus, fortunately
the day before a tremendous hurricane, which blew dead upon the shore,
came on and lasted a considerable time. We remained several weeks at
Lisbon collecting the convoy. At last when everything was ready we got
under way, I think the latter end of September, the following men of war
in company:—
America 64 Hon. John Rodney, Commodore, having charge of the convoy
Gorgon 44 Captain Wallis
Pearl 36
Topaze 36
St. Fiorenzo 36 Capt. Sir C. Hamilton (?)
Modeste 32 Captain [Byam Martin]
Alert 18
We had a most dreadful passage home, blowing a gale of wind the whole
time with seldom more sail set than a close-reefed main topsail. The
French squadron that captured the Alexander, 74, had been on the
look-out for us. We had several French emigrants on board who were in
the greatest tribulation for fear of being taken; and fortunately for
them and for us the Jacobin squadron got on the wrong scent. I don’t
know how it happened, but some people kept an odd kind of reckoning, and
we had some idea of making the banks of Newfoundland instead of the
British Channel. However, at last we got to the northward and westward
of Scilly, with the wind at SW; but it must be understood, to give the
devil his due, that we had not an observation for a long time, and our
dead reckoning was not to be trusted; but at last we found out by
instinct or soundings that we were not in the right place. Now it so
happened that we were lying-to on the larboard tack, the wind, as I have
stated, at SW, under a close-reefed main topsail and storm staysails,
when in a thundering squall it shifted to NNW and took us slap aback.
Over she went, with the upper dead-eyes on the lower rigging in the
water, and we thought she never would right, but the old ship came to
herself again. She was a noble sea boat; it would have been worth any
man’s while to leave the feast, the dance, or even his wife, to have
been on board this ship in a gale of wind to witness her glorious
qualities. After standing to the southward for some time until we
thought we had got into 49° 30′ by our dead reckoning, which is the
latitude of mid-channel, we then altered our course to SEbE½E. I had a
presentiment that something bad was hanging over us, and I went on the
fore topsail yard (I think about 9 at night) to look out ahead, the ship
scudding at the rate of eleven knots, which brought to my mind the
following lines:
The fatal sisters on the surge before
Yoked their infernal horses to the prow.—_Falconer._