But in this instance they were outwitted, for lo and behold,_Recollections of James Anthony Gardner, commander R.N. (1775–1814)

running some time I saw a light right ahead, which I instantly knew to

be Scilly light, and I called to Captain Wallis, who immediately hauled

the ship off to the southward. If the weather had not cleared after the

squall before mentioned we should certainly have made the port where Sir

Clowdsiley Shovell took in his last moorings.

The gale separated the convoy, and in standing up Channel we had near

run on the Bolt Head, but hauled off just in time. At last we arrived at

Spithead, where a large fleet of men of war were assembled. Before we

came to an anchor we had nearly run foul of several ships, and I

remember the Invincible, 74, hailing us, saying, ‘You have cut my cable,

sir.’ This was not all, for we shaved off the old Royal William’s

quarter gallery, which some shipwrights were repairing—who had barely

time to save themselves. We were not allowed to anchor at Spithead, but

to proceed to the Motherbank to perform quarantine on December 4, 1794,

after the most extraordinary voyage that ever took place since the

expedition of the Argonauts. Here I left the Gorgon and joined the

Victory, who I found to my astonishment at Spithead.

But before I quit the Gorgon I must relate a few things that happened on

and before the passage home. At the time we left Corsica we had

forty-seven French prisoners on board. One of them could play the violin

remarkably well. One morning on the forecastle, this man was reading to

some of his comrades, and having his violin with him, Mr. Duncan (our

late master in the Berwick) requested him to play _Ça Ira_, which he for

some time refused, being fearful of giving offence. At last he struck up

the Marseilles hymn accompanied by his voice, which was very good, and

when he came to that part ‘Aux armes, Citoyens, formez vos bataillons,’

etc., he seemed inspired; he threw up his violin half way up the fore

mast, caught it again, pressed it to his breast, and sung out ‘Bon, Ça

Ira,’ in which he was joined by his comrades.

Fired with the song the French grew vain,

Fought all their battles o’er again,

And thrice they routed all their foes; and thrice they slew the slain;

and seemed ready and willing for any mischief. But our soldiers were

called up and the French were sent below, and not so many allowed to be

on deck at a time.

On the passage we were frequently sent as a whipper-in among the convoy.

On one occasion, a master of a merchantman was rather slack in obeying

the signal and gave tongue when hailed; upon which Captain Wallis sent

the first lieutenant and myself to take charge of his vessel. It was in

the evening, blowing fresh, with a heavy sea, and we had great

difficulty in getting on board; our boat cut as many capers as a swing

at a fair, and in returning got stove alongside. We remained all night

on board and had to prick for the softest plank. When Edgar, the first

lieutenant, awoke in the morning, it was laughable to hear him exclaim,

‘God bass ‘e’ (for he could not say ‘blast ye,’ and for this he was

nicknamed little Bassey) ‘What’s got hold of me?’ The fact was the night

was hot, and the pitch in the seams waxed warm, and when he attempted to

rise, he found his hair fastened to the deck and his nankin trowsers

also. He put me in mind of Gulliver when fastened to the ground by the

Liliputians. Captain Wallis having sent for us, we took this chap in

tow. It blew very fresh, and the wind being fair, we towed him, under

double reefed topsails and foresail, nine knots through the water, so

that his topsails were wet with the spray. The master would sometimes

run forward and hail, saying, ‘I’ll cut the hawser’; and Captain Wallis

would reply, ‘If you do, I’m damned if I don’t sink you, you skulking

son of a bitch; I mean to tow you until I work some buckets of tar out

of the hawser.’

Our admiral (Cosby) was a glorious fellow for keeping the convoy in

order, and if they did not immediately obey the signal, he would fire at

them without further ceremony. While lying at Gibraltar a Portuguese

frigate arrived, and one of our midshipmen (Jennings, a wag) was sent on

board with a message from Captain Wallis. Having stayed a long time, the

signal was made for the boat, and when she returned the captain asked

Jennings what detained him. ‘Why, sir, to tell you the truth, saving

your presence’ (for Jennings was a shrewd Irishman), ‘the commanding

officer of the frigate was so busy lousing himself on the hen-coop that

I could not get an answer before.’

When we arrived at Cadiz to join the convoy and to bring home dollars,

the merchants used to smuggle the money off to the ship to avoid paying

the duty; and for every hundred taken on board, they would give as a

premium two dollars and sometimes two and a half. It was a dangerous

traffic, but very tempting; and some of our officers while lying there

made sixty and others eighty pounds. On one occasion, my old shipmate,

Lieutenant Chantrell, fell down in the street with six hundred dollars

at his back—a moderate load—and sung out to some of the Spaniards who

were looking on, ‘Come here, you sons of ——, and help me up.’ Had they

known what he had at his back they would have helped him up to some

purpose; imprisonment and slavery would have been the punishment. The

manner they carried the dollars was this. A double piece of canvas made

to contain them in rows, fixed to the back inside the waistcoat, and

tied before. It was to an English hotel where they were sent to be

shipped. This house was kept by Mr., or rather Mrs., Young, an infernal

vixen, who would make nothing of knocking her husband down with a leg of

mutton or any other joint she had in the larder, and he fool enough to

put up with it. She used to charge us very high for our entertainment,

which is the case in all English houses abroad; and if you have a mind

to be treated fairly you must go to a house kept by a native, who will

never impose on you. Having got a load of dollars to take off, we found

our boat had left the landing place; so we hired a shore boat, and it

appeared their custom house officers had suspicions, for they gave

chase, and it was by uncommon exertion that we escaped, as they were

nearly up with us when we got alongside. And yet those very men who

would have seized us used to smuggle. I saw one of them come alongside

and throw into the lower-deck port a bag of dollars containing, as I

understood, a thousand, with a label on the bag, and then shove off his

boat to row guard and prevent smuggling!

At Cadiz there is a beautiful walk with trees, called the Alameda, much

frequented, particularly on a Sunday. It has three walks for the

different grades of people. I happened to be on shore with some of our

officers on the above day, and taking a stroll through the Alameda, we

observed several well-dressed women in a balcony of one of the large

houses that overlooked the walks. When they caught sight of us, they

beckoned, and we went, as we thought, into the house. On going up two

pairs of stairs without seeing any one, we imagined it was a trick, when

casting my eye to a door that was partly open, I saw a fellow with a

drawn stilletto ready to make a stab; upon which I called to the rest to

make their retreat as fast as possible. One of them (a Mr. Crump) was

deaf, and I was obliged to push him downstairs as I could not make him

understand. This was a warning not lost upon us.

A droll circumstance happened while at Lisbon. A party of us had been to

see the famous aqueduct over the valley of Alcantara, and on coming

back, one of them (Tomlinson, of the Berwick) to show his dexterity

jumped on the back of a donkey. He had on a round jacket and light

nankin pantaloons; the latter he split from clue to earing, and was

obliged to walk to the boat in that situation, and by way of helping a

lame dog over a stile, we took the longest way, where we had to pass by

several ladies, with his shirt sticking out and every one laughing at

him. He declared to me it was the most miserable time he ever

experienced in the whole course of his life.

We were one day accosted while walking in Black-Horse Square, by a

genteel-looking young man who, in broken English, said he would be happy

to show us about the city, which offer was accepted, though much against

my will. As we were walking through the streets, I observed the people

as they passed us to laugh and point to others and then at us. At last

we met an officer belonging to our squadron, who asked if we knew the

person we had in company, because, says he, ‘If you don’t I’ll tell you.

He is the noted pimp of Lisbon, and makes a trade of showing, not only

the city, but all the ladies of easy virtue from the lowest brothel in

Bull Bay to the highest in the upper town.’ This was quite enough, and

we told the fellow to be off, but he had the impudence to follow us to

the boat for payment, and even got upon the gang board and was coming

in, when Jennings, in his dry way, said to the bowman, ‘Don’t you see

the gentleman is dusty? Have you no way of rubbing it off?’ winking at

the time. Upon this the bowman without any ceremony pitched him

overboard up to his neck and then shoved off. We met the fellow several

times after, but he took good care to steer clear.

I went with Lieutenant Chantrell to dinner at an ordinary at Lisbon.

Among the company were several Americans. One of the dishes at the

bottom of the table occasioned a dispute that had nearly terminated in a

battle. A Yankee from the head of the table came and snatched up a

beef-steak pie that an English master of a transport (one of our convoy)

was serving out, and carried it off to his companions; upon which the

Englishman stood up and harangued his countrymen as follows: ‘I say, if

you stand this you ought to be damned, and may as well take a purser’s

shirt out of the rigging.[110] Now, I move that all you that are

Englishmen shall rise from the table and throw the Yankees out of the

window.’ This speech had the same effect as that of Nestor’s to the

Greeks, and the Yankees would for a certainty have been thrown into the

street, had not Lieutenant Chantrell requested them to forbear,

observing that abuse was innocent where men were worthless. This had the

desired effect; and the pie being restored to its place in rather a

diminished state, and the Yankee who took it away saying he only meant

it in Har-mo-ny, the war was put an end to, and the dinner ended in

peace.

One of our men having deserted, I was sent with Ducker, the boatswain,

and a couple of marines to hunt in Bull Bay, which is the Wapping of

Lisbon, and after a long search we found him and were returning to the

boat. In passing through one of their dirty streets, something which

shall be nameless was hove out of a window and fell upon the shoulder of

Ducker, about the size of a large epaulette. I wished him joy of his

promotion and told him that he looked extremely well in his new uniform.

A piece of the same material fell on his nose and stuck out like the

horn of a rhinoceros. I never saw a fellow so vexed. He was going to

break the windows, but I told him to consider, as Bull Bay was not to be

attacked too hastily. I had hardly made the observation when his foot

slipped, and he fell back in the gutter, where he lay cursing the whole

race of Portuguese. Then

Vigorous he rose; and from the effluvia strong

Imbibed new strength, and scoured and stunk along.[111]

I thought I should have died a-laughing, while he was cursing every

native he met with until he got to the boat.

As I have stated before, every ship has strange characters, and the

Gorgon had her full share. I shall begin with the captain, who was a

very good seaman and had many good qualities, but at times he appeared

half mad. He once said to me, pointing to Ducker, the boatswain, on the

forecastle, ‘I’ll hang that fellow; and you go down directly and take an

inventory of his stores.’ I could hardly keep my countenance, but went

forward, and as the captain turned his back I said to Ducker, ‘You are

going to be hanged, and I am sent for a piece of white line to tuck you

up genteelly.’ On my reporting progress, he seemed to have forgot that

he gave such an order, and, taking a pinch of snuff, merely said, ‘Let

the fellow go to hell, and say no more about him.’

The first lieutenant, Edgar, was another strange and unaccountable

being. He had sailed round the world with Cook, and was master of the

ship Captain Clerke commanded. He was a good sailor and navigator, or

rather had been, for he drank very hard, so as to entirely ruin his

constitution. He and the captain often quarrelled, particularly at

night. I have heard the captain say, ‘Edgar, I shall get another first

lieutenant.’ The other would answer, ‘Ye-ye-ye-yes, sir, another first

lieutenant.’ The captain again, ‘Edgar, you are drunk.’ ‘No, sir, bass

me if I am.’ A day or two before we left Corsica, the captain ordered

the sails to be bent and went on shore to St. Fiorenzo. On coming on

board late at night he asked Edgar if the sails were bent. This question

Edgar could not answer, his memory having failed him; and on the captain

asking him again, he said, ‘Bass me if I know, but I’ll look up,’

forgetting it was dark. ‘You need not do that,’ says the other, ‘for

damn me if you can see a hole through a grating.’ Then taking a pinch of

snuff, part of which blew into Edgar’s eye, he asked him down to supper.

This the other readily agreed to, but said, Bass him, if he could see

the way.

I must now speak of Jerry Hacker, the purser. He was a man, take him all

in all, ye ne’er will see his like again. He messed by himself in the

cockpit, and would sit in his cabin in the dark with a long stick in his

hand, calling out to everyone that came down the cockpit ladder, ‘What

strange man is that?’ He was in constant fear of being robbed or

cheated, and lived in the most miserable manner. I have known him to

corn meat in his hand-basin and in something else. He was suspicious to

a degree and always saying he should be ruined, though there was little

fear of that, as Jerry took good care to trust no one; and what he was

only charged two shillings a gallon for, he kindly offered to let me

have for five shillings, paying ready money; but I was not to be taken

in so easy. He could not bear the sight of a midshipman in the cockpit,

and did everything in his power to annoy them, and before I joined the

ship, he used to sing a verse of an old song reflecting on the

midshipmen. One morning while I was in the cockpit, he was quarrelling

with some of them, and then struck up his favourite air, not thinking

that any person knew the song but himself. However, in this he was

mistaken, and when he had finished the following verse, I struck up

another that settled him.

Tune, _The Black Joke_.

Ye salt beef squires and quarter deck beaus,

Who formerly lived upon blacking of shoes:

With your anchors a-weigh and your topsails a-trip.

If they call us by name and we don’t answer, Sir!

They start us about till not able to stir;

A lusty one and lay it well on.

If you spare them an inch you ought to be damn’d;

With your anchors a-weigh and your topsails a-trip.

Our b—— of a purser, he is very handy,

He mixes the water along with the brandy;

Your anchors a-weigh and your topsails a-trip

The bloody old thief he is very cruel;

Instead of burgoo he gives us water gruel;

A lusty one and lay it well on.

If you spare him an inch you ought to be damn’d,

With your anchors a-weigh and your topsails a-trip.

After hearing the last verse Jerry’s ‘heavenly voice was heard no more

to sing,’ and he looked with an evil eye upon me ever after.

In the gale of wind near the Channel, when we were taken aback in the

squall that I have mentioned, every article we had was broken with the

exception of the cover of a very large mess teapot. This we handed round

as a measure to one another with wine from a black jack. I remember

being at supper soon after the squall, in the midship berth in the

cockpit, the ship rolling gunwale under, when we heard a noise in the

after-hold like the rush of many waters, and it struck everyone that a

butt end had started and that we should founder in a few minutes. The

alarm was given immediately. The sick and lame left their hammocks; the

latter forgot his crutch, and leaped—not exulting—like the bounding roe.

Down came the captain and a whole posse of officers and men. The

gratings were instantly unshipped, and in rushed the carpenter and his

crew, horror-struck, with hair standing on end, like quills on the

fretful porcupine; when, behold, it was a large cask of peas that had

the head knocked out, and the peas as the ship rolled rushed along with

a noise exactly like that of water.[112]

After looking at one another for some time the following ludicrous scene

took place, which I was an eye-witness to:—

The captain shook his head, took snuff, and went upon deck.

Old Edgar, first lieutenant, followed, and said ‘God bass ‘e all.’

Billy Chantrell gave a grin, and damn’d his eyes.

The parson exclaimed ‘In the midst of life we are in death.’

The carpenter said ‘Damn and b—— the peas.’

Old Jerry Hacker, the purser, swore he was ruined, as no allowance would

be made him; and cursed the field the peas grew in; and the French

emigrant captain (Dubosc) said ‘it was as vel for him to stay at de

Toulon and be guillotined, as to come to dis place and be drowned in de

vater.’

I never shall forget this scene as long as I live. I dined with Captain

Wallis the next day, and he asked me, in a very knowing manner, if he

should help me to some peas soup.

Our gunner was one of the drollest fellows I ever met with—it was his

delight to come on the forecastle in the first watch and sing comic

songs to amuse the midshipmen assembled there. ‘Arthur O’Bradley’ was

one that he used to sing with a great deal of humour. I believe it

contained forty verses. ‘Bryan O’Lynn’ was another which I shall relate,

leaving out the lines that may not be liked by those endued with fine

feelings.