stores, and Derby was sent in her. On her return, our purser (Huish)
took a passage. On leaving the harbour the weather was moderate, but
soon after came on to blow from the westward. Now the purser was very
fearful in a boat, and Derby carried more sail than he ought, on purpose
to alarm him. From the harbour to Lymington, the distance is twenty-six
miles, and the wind being dead on end they had to beat all the way.
Sometimes the boat would be gunwale under, and Huish, terrified almost
to death, would every moment rise from his seat and fall again,
exclaiming, ‘Jesus, Jenny, Jesus, Jenny’ (common words of his when
things went wrong), and cursed the hour he was fool enough to trust
himself with Derby, and if it pleased Providence to spare him now he
would never put his foot in a boat with him even in a calm. But his
troubles were not yet over, for in getting into the Fiddler’s Race near
Gurnet Point, on the Isle of Wight side, with the tide under their lee,
there was such a sea breaking that the launch was nearly swamped, and
Derby seriously repented his joke; while Huish in despair repeatedly
ejaculated, ‘Orontes’ bark, Orontes’ bark will be our fate.’ (See
_Aeneid_ [i. 117]).[148] However, they got safe on board and created
much amusement in the account Huish gave of Derby’s wickedness.
Being ordered to embark the 23rd regiment foot for Guernsey, and after
going through the Needles in the evening, it came on thick weather in
the first watch; and about eleven the wind, at SE, began to blow a
hurricane, with snow so thick that we could not see half the length of
the ship. We sent topgallant yards and topgallant masts upon deck, and
hove the ship to under storm staysails. The topsails and courses were
frozen as hard as board, and being short of complement it took nearly
the whole of the middle watch before they could be furled. One of our
main topmen was frozen and died soon after. The officers were also
aloft, and all hands suffered most dreadfully. I was speaking to the man
at the wheel when a sheet of ice fell out of the mizen top and knocked
both of us down. It gave me a severe blow on the shoulder and the other
a staggering thump on the back. I was so benumbed when I got below that
I had hardly life in me. The officers of the 23rd made me swallow hot
brandy and water, and I went to bed, where I had not been above half an
hour before all hands were called again, and I was obliged to go on
deck. The fact was the fore topsail had got loose and blew to rags, and
the main topsail was nearly following its example, but stopped in time,
and we had to bend another fore topsail in this cruel weather. Towards
morning it cleared up and got moderate. During the whole course of my
life I never suffered so much as I did on that dreadful night. However,
we got safe into Guernsey and landed our soldiers. The officers were a
glorious set of fellows, and sorry I am that I cannot find any of their
names on the list.
The last time we were at the Passage of Waterford was passed very
agreeably. I had a cousin (the son of the late Alderman Bates of
Waterford) who had an estate in the neighbourhood. He used to send
horses and a carriage for the officers of our mess, who were frequently
at his house. He was field officer of the district and kept a great deal
of company, and gave many parties in honour of the old Blonde. On one
occasion he came on board to invite us to an evening party, when he and
Jack Derby got into conversation, and at last got so drunk that it was
evening before they got sober enough to leave the ship. It was then time
to go, and off they started, Derby in full uniform. When the boat
landed, he, with all the politeness imaginable, wanted to hand Bates
out. This Bates declined. ‘Then,’ says Jack, ‘we’ll go together.’ Now
the gang board was hardly broad enough for two, and the moment they
stepped upon it over they went where the water was four feet deep and
got a fine ducking. Derby would not return to the ship, but, mounting a
horse belonging to Bates, set off in his wet clothes to meet the party,
and there Bates dressed him in regimentals, and a precious figure he
cut. We passed a very pleasant evening, there being near seventy
present. One of the ladies sung the beautiful air of ‘Eileen Aroon’ in
Irish—a translation of which I met with a few years ago and give it as
follows:—
I’ll love thee evermore,
Eileen aroon.
I’ll bless thee o’er and o’er,
Eileen aroon.
Oh, for thy sake I’ll tread
Where the plains of Mayo spread,
By hope still fondly led,
Eileen aroon.
Oh! how may I gain thee,
Eileen aroon?
Shall feasting entertain thee,
Eileen aroon?
I would range the world wide,
With love alone to guide,
To win thee for my bride,
Eileen aroon.
Then wilt thou come away,
Eileen aroon?
Oh! wilt thou come or stay,
Eileen aroon?
Oh yes! oh yes! with thee
I will wander far and free,
And thy only love shall be,
Eileen aroon.
A hundred thousand welcomes
Eileen aroon.
A hundred thousand welcomes,
Eileen aroon.
Oh! welcome evermore,
With welcomes yet in store,
Till love and life are o’er,
Eileen aroon.
We had a fidgety and crabbed commodore (Captain Stevenson of the Europa,
50) who neither enjoyed pleasure himself nor would let anyone else do
so: who kept Blue Peter flying the fortnight we remained, which said No!
to every invitation to the city.
In going from Portsmouth to the Downs we gave a passage to an assistant
surgeon, red hot from the land of cakes, who had never been on board of
a man of war, and had now an appointment to a gun vessel. Seeing that he
was a complete greenhorn, we took him into our mess that the midshipmen
should not make a butt of him, for which he was very thankful. On
leaving the ship in the Downs, he took the surgeon aside, saying, ‘You
have all been very kind to me, particularly the purser, and I would wish
to make him some acknowledgment. D’ye think if I gave him three pounds
of cheese!!! it would satisfy him?’ After he landed at Deal he put up at
the Three Kings. Captain Dobree, happening to go into the coffee room,
observed him in one of the boxes, and hearing him ask the waiter what
there was for dinner, stayed to hear the result. The bill of fare being
given him, he ordered an apple pie, which was brought him made in a
good-sized dish. This he devoured in a short time, and ordered the
fellow to bring him another, which he demolished also, and then rang the
third time and asked him if he had any more of those pies. On the waiter
saying they had, he said, ‘You may as well bring me one more,’ upon
which Captain Dobree exclaimed ‘Merciful father!’ and left him in his
glory. The captain told me this the moment he came on board, saying he
never met the fellow of him in all his peregrinations.
About six months after this a small squadron of gun vessels were ordered
from the Downs to cruise on the French coast. It happened that his
appointment was dated before the other assistant surgeons in the above
squadron, and will it be believed that he considered himself entitled to
the same rank and emoluments as physician of the fleet, and made
application for the same, and got for answer (as we were told) that the
board disapproved of the whole of his practice.
DANIEL DOBREE, Esq., [Acting] Captain.
Dead [1802]. A good officer, seaman, and gentleman. [Post captain,
April 29, 1802.]
J. A. GARDNER, 1st Lieutenant.
A commander.
JOHN WORRALL, 2nd Lieutenant.
Dead [1831]. A commander; crabbed.
JOHN DERBY, 2nd Lieutenant.
Dead. Warden at Portsmouth yard.
HENRY J. LYFORD, 2nd Lieutenant.
Dead [1830]. A post captain.—[Marshall, vii. 170.]
WM. GIBSON, 2nd Lieutenant.
Broke by court martial and rendered incapable of serving, for
going on shore without leave to fight a duel.
EDWIN JAMES, 2nd Lieutenant.
Dead [1829]. A commander.—[Marshall, xi. 156.]
HENRY WEBB, Master.
Dead. A worthy, honest fellow.
ROBERT HUISH, Purser.
Dead. A droll fellow and good mimic.
[JOHN] TUCKER, Purser.
Dead. Thoughtless and extravagant.
J[AMES] MILLIGAN, Surgeon.
Dead. A worthy fellow.
[JOHN] HARRISON, Gunner.
Dead. A very good warrant officer.
JOHN BLACKFORD, Boatswain.
Dead. A willing man, but drank.
[THOMAS] NEWPORT, Carpenter.
Dead. Broke by court martial.
[JAMES] THOMAS, Mate.
Uncertain. A good-natured Irishman.
[EDWARD] CAULFIELD, Midshipman.
Dead. A lieutenant.
[CHARLES] DONCASTER, Midshipman.
Dead from yellow fever at Jamaica. A fine, promising young man.
[Borne as ‘boy of the 1st class’; afterwards midshipman.]
FREDERICK HOUGHTON, Midshipman.
Drowned. A lieutenant.
CHAS. HOUGHTON, Midshipman.
A lieutenant. They were sons of Major [Daniel] Houghton [_cf._
_D.N.B._], the African traveller.
DANIEL DOBREE, Midshipman; son of the captain.
Dead.
[WILLIAM] BLACKFORD, son of the boatswain.
Dead. A lieutenant; a worthy character. [Borne as ‘boy of the 3rd
class’; afterwards midshipman.]
BRUNSWICK, 74
This flat-floored tub that rolled like the devil,
Was planned by Black Dick in an hour most evil.
In April 1801 I was appointed to the Brunswick in Portsmouth harbour and
did duty as first lieutenant until the senior officer made his
appearance, which was not until I had fitted the ship out. This officer
was my old shipmate, Jack Key, formerly of the Barfleur, and one totally
unfit for the situation. In consequence, Captain George Hopewell
Stephens, who commanded the ship, was obliged to apply to the admiralty
for an officer senior to Key, and Emanuel Hungerford was appointed first
lieutenant, Captain Stephens expressing his regret at the circumstance,
observing that it was a hard case but that he would do everything in his
power to serve me. He was as good as his word, and I found him through
life a sincere friend. Hoisted the flag (red at the mizen) of Rear
Admiral John Holloway, as junior port admiral, and received orders to
proceed without loss of time to Spithead; and having struck the flag,
sailed to join the North Sea fleet under Admiral Dickson, who had his
flag (blue at the main) on board the Blenheim, 74. After cruising
several weeks and putting into Yarmouth Roads occasionally, we were next
ordered to join the grand fleet under Admiral Cornwallis (Billy Blue)
off Brest blockading the French fleet until the negotiations for peace;
when, in consequence of the French sending a squadron to the West
Indies, our admiral detached from the grand fleet five sail of the line
in October 1801 for the same destination. The squadron consisted of the
following men of war:—
Goliath 74 Captain Essington, as commodore
Captain 74 Captain C. Boyles
Elephant 74 Captain Thos. Foley
Brunswick 74 Captain Geo. Hopewell Stephens
Ganges 74 Captain Fremantle
We had a pleasant passage down the trades and made Deseada some time in
November, and had a beautiful view of the West India Islands; and in
about a week after making Deseada we arrived at Port Royal, Jamaica, and
found lying there the following men of war:—
Sans Pareil 84 Rear-Admiral Montagu—Captain Jas. Katon
Carnatic 74 Captain H. W. Bayntun
Cumberland 74 Captain Penrose
America 64 A hulk
Admiral de Vries 56 A cooperage
Abergavenny 54 A guard-ship
Vengeance 44 A French frigate: a prize
Melampus 36 Captain Thos. Le M. Gosselin, etc.
We remained about ten weeks in sweet Port Royal harbour, until the
arrival of Rear-Admiral Sir John Thomas Duckworth, K.B., as
commander-in-chief, who had his flag (red at the mizen) on board the
Leviathan, 74, and then sailed with a small squadron to cruise off the
Island of Navasa, Cape Tiburon, etc., for several weeks under
Rear-Admiral Montagu. In 1802 (I don’t remember the month) Rear-Admiral
George Campbell arrived with the fleet from England, which cut a very
fine appearance.[149] The like had not been since the days of Rodney,
viz.:—
Leviathan 74 {Rear-Admiral Duckworth, K.B.
{Captain Richard D. Dunn
Sans Pareil 84 {Rear-Admiral Montagu
{Captain Jas. Katon
Temeraire 98 {Rear-Admiral Geo. Campbell
{Captain [C. Eyles][150]
Princess Royal 98 Captain
Formidable 98 Captain [Rich. Grindall][150]
Carnatic 74 Captain
Cumberland 74 Captain Penrose
Goliath 74 Captain Essington (then Brisbane)
Spencer 74 Captain [Henry D’E. Darby][150]
Captain 74 Captain C. Boyles
Ganges 74 Captain Fremantle
Elephant 74 Captain T. Foley (then Dundas)
Brunswick 74 Captain Geo. H. Stephens
Vengeance 74 Captain Duff
Audacious 74 Captain S. Peard
Orion 74 Captain Oliver
Edgar 74 Captain Otway
Bellerophon 74 Captain Loring
Robust 74 Captain Hon. Alan H. Gardner
Resolution 74 Captain
Majestic 74 Captain D. Gould
Theseus 74 Captain John Bligh
Zealous 74 Captain S. H. Linzee
Warrior 74 Captain Chas. Tyler
Powerful 74 Captain Sir Francis Laforey, Bart.
Bellona 74 Captain Thos. Bertie
Vanguard 74 Captain Chas. Inglis
Defence 74 Captain Lord H. Paulett
Abergavenny 54 A guard-ship
America 64 A hulk
Admiral De Vries 54 A cooperage
Hindostan 54 A store-ship
Vengeance 44 A prize
Decade 36 Captain Rutherford
Melampus 36 Captain Gosselin
Trent 36 Captain Perkins
Naiad or Néréide 36 Captain Mends
Æolus 32 Captain Walker
Druid 32 Captain
Thisbe or Dido (?) 28 Captain
And other frigates I do not remember.
Pelican 18 Captain Geo. McKinlay
Calypso 18 Captain
Lark 18 Captain
Raven 18 Captain James Sanders
Came into Port Royal the Française, 36, French frigate, to purchase
different articles for Madame Le Clerc, the wife of the
commander-in-chief of the French army at St. Domingo, and sister of
Napoleon (then first consul of France). A court martial was held on
Captain Thomas New for the loss of his ship,[151] on which charge he was
acquitted. During our cruise off St. Domingo we could observe the
devastation occasioned by the war with the French and the blacks;
several plantations and villages on fire. At this time sickness began to
make its appearance in the fleet, and the Brunswick had 287 men on the
sick list, and buried a great many. The Vengeance, 44, a prize, tailed
on shore and many lost their lives in endeavouring to get her off,
particularly the party of thirty-four from the Brunswick, the greater
part of whom died; and this for an old French frigate not worth repair,
being rotten and useless.
A short time before we arrived, the Topaze, 36, on a cruise, buried all
hands except fifty-five; the captain (Church) and all the officers died,
and the ship was brought in by the gunner. Eight sail of the line having
been surveyed and ordered home, we were one of the lucky squadron. Each
ship was directed to take on board four tons of iron hoops lying at a
place called Greenwich; and our launch took several trips for this
precious cargo; the thermometer generally 112,[152] and I have to
remember many damnable roastings I got in grubbing for rusty hoops not
worth their carriage. So much for the wisdom of Sir John. What could
induce him to think of such a thing was only known to himself. Everyone
at first thought it a hoax until they took the trip. I have heard many
men say how dearly they liked the West Indies; the heat was so fine and
conducive to health. Much good may it do them; and I, for one, shall
never envy them taking up their quarters with Shadrach, Meshach and
Abednego.
The day before we left Port Royal happened to be sweet May Day and I
shall never forget it. The squadron ordered home had to send as many of
their stores as they could spare to the dockyard. I had to tow our spare
topmasts and several spars, and with great fatigue got them landed and
put into store; the heat beyond description; so much so that near thirty
of the blacks belonging to the yard were taken ill and sent to the
hospital. Captain Stephens was one of those who liked the West Indies,
and coming into the yard at this time, when not a breath of air was
stirring, I pointed out to him some fowls that had taken their station
as well as myself under an archway, with their wings drooping and their
bills open gasping for breath. ‘Sir,’ says I, ‘the fowls wax warm
although indigenous, and don’t appear so comfortable in this fine
climate as might be expected.’ ‘Let us be off,’ says he, ‘for there’s no
standing this.’
As several of our men had to receive extra pay for work they had been
doing, I had to stay a considerable time in consequence of some of the
Jacks-in-office waiting to get change to settle with our men; and I had
a hot dispute with one of them (a Mr. Bull), who felt much hurt at my
saying ‘What a cow you are to keep us in this infernal oven until our
faces are the colour of your own (he was a man of colour)—bad luck to
you.’
A short time before we knew of our being ordered home I went to dine on
board the Elephant with Lyford, the first lieutenant (my old messmate in
the Blonde). They expected to be sent home, and were so sure, that
Captain Peers of the marines, and Jones, the purser, said how happy they
should be to take any letters I had to send to England, and would be
certain to call on my friends as soon as the ship arrived. Poor fellows,
little did they think that instead of going home their bones would be
left at the Palisades. I am grieved to say that out of the whole mess
only two or three returned. I was taken ill the day I dined with them,
and I can truly say that I feel the effects of the wretched climate
while I am stating this.
On the 2nd of May we left Port Royal and for two or three days were
becalmed in sight of the accursed harbour. At last we joined
Rear-Admiral Campbell off Cape Tiburon. On our sick list being shown to
the admiral he seemed astonished at the number, and when he found it was
so swelled with yellow fever patients he ordered our boat off
immediately and would not suffer any communication with our ship. We
remained cruising with the squadron for a short time, and then left the
fleet for England with the following men of war:—
Bellona 74 Captain Thos. Bertie, commodore
Powerful 74 Captain Sir Francis Laforey, Bart.
Defence 74 Captain Lord Harry Paulett
Zealous 74 Captain Samuel Hood Linzee
Brunswick 74 Captain Geo. Hopewell Stephens
Edgar 74 Captain Robert Waller Otway
Orion 74 Captain Oliver
Vengeance 74 Captain Duff
Went through the Crooked Island passage and parted company with the
commodore, who, with five sail of the line, stood to the eastward and
left the Powerful, Brunswick, and Edgar or Orion (I forget which) to get
home as they could, being bad sailers. But Sir Francis Laforey, in the
Powerful, knew well what he was about and stood to the northward. We had
dreadful weather near Bermuda for three days, but moderate after, and
when on the Banks of Newfoundland altered our course for the Channel and
got there a few hours before the flying squadron, who we joined, and
soon after arrived at Spithead after a passage of nearly two months, and
went into harbour, where the Brunswick was paid off in July 1802.
But before closing I must relate a few occurrences, beginning with the
captain. This gentleman was first lieutenant of the Janus, 44 (upon two
decks) commanded by Captain Glover in the American war, and was one of
the small squadron under the late Admiral Cornwallis, who at this time
was captain of the Lion, 64, in the action with the French under
Lamotte-Picquet,[153] who had a much superior force. As the action
commenced, Captain Glover (who had been ill some time) died, and
Lieutenant Stephens fought the ship in a manner that will do eternal
honour to his memory. He was opposed in the line to a French 74 and
fairly beat her out of her station. When the battle was over he went on
board the commodore and reported the death of Captain Glover, and that
he had died below, as the surgeon had reported his being unable to be
brought on deck. Now Captain Glover had been spoken of before as not
having exerted himself so well as was expected; and Cornwallis (who was
a friend of his) observed to Lieutenant Stephens that he ought to have
let his captain die on the quarter deck, as he well knew what had been
said of him on a former occasion; and notwithstanding the surgeon’s
report that he could not be removed from his cot, he never forgot it.
This account I had from Captain Stephens; and when we joined the grand
fleet off Brest under Admiral Cornwallis, we had not been there two
hours before he made to us the signal of disapprobation for what in fact
the ship ahead of us was to blame for. Says Captain Stephens to me,
‘Gardner, did I not tell you that Billy Blue would hold me in his kind
remembrance? See how he begins to compliment me before the whole fleet.’
Captain Stephens was a brave and meritorious officer, an excellent
sailor, and a master in naval tactics. I found him, both on board and on
shore, a sincere friend. He applied for me to go as his first lieutenant
when he was appointed to command the Captain, 74, but from ill health I
was unable to join. He died a rear-admiral of the white, lamented by
numerous friends.
I shall never forget the morning before we took our departure from the
grand fleet off the Black Rocks. The signal was made to put ourselves
under the orders of the Goliath, 74, with the ships I have already
mentioned, and we imagined it was to go into port as the first division
to be paid off. I had the middle watch and had turned in, when about
five our master thundered at my door and calling out, ‘Here’s news for
you, you ragged-headed rascal; turn out and hurrah for the back of the
Point and Capstan Square! paid off by the hokey, in a few days.’ He then
began singing:—
Jolly tars, have you heard of the news?
There’s peace both by land and by sea;
Great guns are no more to be used,
Disbanded we all are to be.
Oh! says the admiral, The wars are all over;
Says the captain, My heart it will break;
Oh! says the bloody first lieutenant,
What course of life shall I take?
He then began to cut such capers that I thought he was mad. For my own
part, I was in high spirits and got up and roused out several more who
had not heard of the good news, when unfortunately a cutter came under
our stern and sent a boat on board. When the officer came on the quarter
deck, our master, full of glee, went up to him and said, ‘If you have
any letters, give them to us and we’ll take them in for you.’ ‘The devil
you will?’ says he. ‘That would be a pretty circumbendibus, to send
letters to Portsmouth _viâ_ Jamaica. Why,’ says he, ‘you don’t laugh.’
And well he might say so, for no lame duck on change ever cut a more
rueful appearance than the master, who damned his eyes, and went below
to make his will, wishing bad luck to the fellow who brought the news.
We had to victual and get stores from the rest of the fleet, with a
heavy swell and the ship rolling like a tub. She was the worst sea boat
that ever was built, drawing less water by some feet than the other
ships of her rate, but of great breadth and superior size. She had a
trick of carrying away her main topmast close by the cap, by a
particular jerk in pitching; and as we were informed by Mr. Yelland, the
carpenter (who had been appointed to her for years before), could never
be prevented; and here she played the same game, and laboured so
dreadfully that it was with the utmost difficulty we could get the
stores on board and another main topmast rigged, so as to be ready to
join the squadron. She rolled so that the scuttle butts broke adrift,
and a poor fellow got so much injured by one of them that he died soon
after. She also held a bad wind, so that it was no easy task for an
officer to keep her in her station; and to sum up the whole of her good
qualities, on her last cruise she had nearly drowned all hands, and it
was by uncommon exertion and good luck they succeeded in getting her
into port, where they made her a powder ship, the only thing she was fit
for.[154]
Before we left the fleet, one of our lieutenants was taken ill and sent
home, and Lieutenant Hector Maclean came in his room—he was senior to me
and appointed second. This was another hardship, but Captain Stephens
told me not to mind it as he would do everything in his power to serve
me. I told him that Lord Hugh Seymour, the admiral commanding on the
Jamaica station, was an old friend and shipmate of my father’s, and I
would thank him to mention me to him when the ship arrived, which he
said I might depend on. But, unfortunately for me, Lord Hugh died before
we got out, regretted by everyone, and was succeeded in the command
(until the arrival of Sir J. T. Duckworth) by a man[155] as proud as the
mighty Prester John.