happened for the eight years and ten months that I remained in this
place, and I shall merely relate a few occurrences as they come to my
recollection. I had a midshipman, two signalmen, and two dragoons, under
my superintendence; and when anything particular took place one of the
dragoons was sent off with the despatch to the nearest commanding
officer. We had the strictest orders to be on the look-out by night and
by day, in consequence of the threatened invasion, and our being so near
the French coast that on a clear day the camp at Boulogne could be seen
without a glass,[161] so that the utmost vigilance on our part was
required. Blue lights, fire beacons, etc., were in constant readiness,
and the French flotilla at Boulogne, Calais, Ambleteuse, and Vimereux
were hourly expected to make a start.
Independent of this, whenever the wind blew strong from the westward, so
as to occasion the cruisers to take shelter under Dungeness, the French
privateers were sure to come over and pick up the struggling merchantmen
before the men of war could regain their station off Beachy Head. We had
also to be constantly on the watch to give notice in case of smugglers
being on the coast, and to prevent prisoners of war making their escape
from the vicinity of our station, a signal for that purpose being made
from one post to another; so that we had no relaxation from duty except
in a thick fog, which sometimes would take place for nine or ten days
together, during which time we had only to walk round the cliffs and
along the seashore. I have heard many say that a signal station was an
easy berth, and only fit for old and worn-out officers. This I flatly
deny; and, without fear of contradiction, can safely say that I suffered
more from anxiety at this station than ever I did on board of a man of
war. In the latter, when one’s watch was over, a little rest could be
obtained; but at the station the night was worse than the day, as the
flotilla were expected to take advantage of the darkness so as to be
over in the morning, and the night signal was more anxiously watched
than that of the day. When Earl St. Vincent was first lord of the
admiralty, Lieutenant John Henry St. John Page (an old schoolfellow of
mine, who I had the following account from) applied to him for a signal
station, stating that he was unfit for active service in consequence of
a paralytic stroke which affected his arm and one of his eyes. His
lordship wrote for answer, ‘That an officer of a signal station ought to
have two eyes, and damned good eyes they ought to be.’ However, he
complied with his wishes.
From our elevated situation I have often been in dread for the safety of
the house, particularly in the SW gales, and have frequently expected
that the board would be obliged
To set a figure, to discover
If we had fled to Rye or Dover;
and I’m astonished that the house did not blow away. I well remember one
dreadful gale blowing down our chimney, which lay upon the roof without
breaking through, forming an angle of 45°, and the midshipman, crawling
out upon all fours (for we could not stand upright), declared he thought
it was our 18-pound carronade that was blown there and had taken that
position for a long shot. The fire blew out of the stoves, and the glass
out of the window frames; the night as black as Erebus, with heavy rain
which formed a river that swept everything before it; the chief part of
our garden washed or blown away, leaving nothing but the bare rock
behind, so that I wished myself in the old Bay of Biscay again.
To make up for this, the views about Hastings are remarkably fine, and
in the summer well worth visiting; particularly the fish ponds, Dripping
Well, Lovers’ Seat, Friar’s Hill, Old Roar and many other romantic
spots, one of which I must mention. About a mile to the NE of Hastings,
from a place called the Tile Kiln House, the prospect is highly
interesting; looking towards the town, is a valley with a thicket on the
left, and at the bottom a stream that runs to the sea; in front, the
west hill with the ancient castle said to be built by William the
Conqueror soon after the battle of Hastings; and on the east hill, the
remains of a Roman camp. One morning when the hounds were out, I was
walking near the above thicket when an immense boar rushed furiously on
the pack and the huntsmen had great difficulty in separating them. The
boar belonged to the farmer near the spot, and some of the dogs had
reason to remember him.
As I am better acquainted with handling a tar brush, strapping a block,
or turning in a dead-eye, than describing green groves and gravel walks,
I shall say nothing more respecting the face of the country, but begin
upon other subjects. And here I must say that during the time I had the
station, I was upon good terms with every individual from the mayor down
to the fisherman. But I regret to state that death has made sad inroads
among my worthy friends since my departure. In the summer, the cockneys
would frequently come to take a look at the French coast and Bonaparte’s
tower on a clear day; and not content with asking ridiculous questions,
would walk into the house without leave or licence, and seat themselves.
On one occasion, when I had returned from Hastings, I found seated in my
room a fellow with his coat off and reading one of my books. He took no
notice of me for some time. At last he drawled out ‘It’s werry hot
veather.’ ‘It is,’ I replied; ‘but pray what is your business?’ This
question seemed to startle him, and particularly so when I informed him
I was a man of war’s man, and never suffered myself to be taken by storm
or boarded in the smoke. He took the hint and walked off.[162]
In stating this I only allude to a set who were unacquainted with common
politeness. At the same time I have to acknowledge the civility and
attention I received from many of the respectable families that visited
Hastings.
The lower class at Hastings and in the vicinity believe in witchcraft,
and several old women that lived in All Saints’ Street were supposed to
be witches. About a mile from my station lived a poor old woman named
Hannah Weller, who was put down in the list; and many strange stories
were told respecting her—such as pigs, and sheep, and sometimes oxen,
refusing to pass her dwelling, until the drovers would go and beg of her
to let them pass quietly. On my going one morning to market at Hastings,
I bought with other articles some eggs, which I gave to Wm. Crump (one
of the signalmen), who put them at the bottom of his basket well covered
with straw so that they could not be seen. I then told him to make all
haste he could to the station, and without his knowing it I returned
before him. When I had got about a mile and a half from the town I met
Hannah Weller, who, I knew, was coming in at this time with some clothes
for the wash; and I told her, if she met Crump, to tell him to make
haste out and to be careful of the eggs he had in the bottom of his
basket, and not to say she had seen me. Now Crump stood in great dread
of Hannah, and was a firm believer in deeds of the black art. Soon after
I had seen her she met Crump, and desired him to be very careful of the
eggs and to make haste and not loiter by the way. Crump was terrified
almost out of his wits to think she should know what cargo he had charge
of; and, after wishing her good morning, strode off without looking
behind until he got about a hundred yards from her. He then took out his
knife and stuck it in the mark the ring of her patten (as he thought)
had made, and a sure way—if she looked round—to prove witchcraft; and
she, happening to look round at the same time and seeing him stopping,
called out, ‘Crump, what are you about?’ and shaking her hand, desired
him to be gone, upon which he took to his heels in amazement and arrived
at the station as pale as death, and told his woeful story to the
midshipman with many illustrations, which the midshipman believed to be
as true as holy writ.
We had a tame raven, the most sagacious creature I ever met with. He
used to go every morning with the signalman to town, for the letters and
to market, and would take his station at the butcher’s shop long before
we could get there; and when he saw us ready to return, would set off
for home in a hurry. Sometimes we could see him fighting with the crows;
and once he alighted on the head of a gentleman reading in a field; to
his consternation, until we explained to him Ralph’s tricks. Under the
Lovers’ Seat stands a house on the beach called The Govers, which was
inhabited by a wicked fellow, a cobbler by trade. This man took it into
his head to leave off his wicked ways, and went to church regularly
every Sunday, and paid great attention to the service for about three or
four months, and then relapsed to his former failings. On being asked
the reason of his apostasy he replied that he went to church until he
was tired; and seeing no use in it, he thought he might as well go back
to sin and cobble again as he could get more by it than going to church.
Early one morning this fellow was gathering sticks in the valley under
the signal station, when our raven was on the prowl. The moment Ralph
got sight of him he pitched on his neck and began to claw and tear him
most unmercifully, which alarmed him so much that he had hardly power to
defend himself. At last he got hold of the raven, and, with part of the
thong he had to bind the sticks, he began to tie Ralph’s legs, and when
he thought he had him secure he gathered up his sticks and was stooping
down to fasten them, when the raven broke loose, and seized on him a
second time, and tore his breeches to rags after clawing him severely,
and then flew away. The cobbler, dreadfully alarmed, went home without
his sticks and told everyone that he met that the devil had attacked him
and that he must alter his course of life, as he now believed something
was in it. The joke was kept up, and I think he was never told it was
our raven. Poor Ralph at last met with an untimely death. A farmer,
shooting rooks, laid him low by mistake, which he was very sorry for
when too late.
Notwithstanding the many cruisers that were on the station and the
unceasing look-out on the coast by the officers of the customs, the
smugglers contrived to make several runs. One morning in the month of
November the midshipman called me up a little before daylight, and
reported that fifteen horses were in the field near the station, with
Flushing jackets strapped on their backs, and made fast to the hedge,
without any one with them. As the day began to break, I went to the brow
of the hill, and saw on the beach between two and three hundred people,
and a boat a short way from the shore. The moment they got sight of me
they set up a shout, and made use of horrible threats. However, I went
down with the midshipman, and found some customhouse officers who had
been up to their necks in water trying to get at the boat, but all to no
purpose. The fellows on board seemed to be drunk, and held up some kegs
which they stove; and making use of language the most vile, stood to the
westward. I immediately dispatched the midshipman to give information to
the customhouse and made the signal to the next station. A galley was
soon after manned and armed, and after a long chase the smuggler was
captured with several tubs of liquor. As I returned to my station the
mob shewed their heads just above the brow of the hill, and complimented
me with three groans and then dispersed; and glad I was to see them
clear off. They appeared to be all strangers, the customhouse officers
declaring they had never seen one of them before. Some of them swore
they would be a shot in our locker the first opportunity, and we
expected they would have attacked us in the night; but we heard no more
of them.
I shall now mention a few friends; and first the Reverend Richard
Wadeson, late Vicar of Fairlight, who died since I left the station,
aged eighty-nine. He had formerly been second master at Harrow School,
when Dr. Parr was usher, and was offered to be first master at the death
or resignation of Dr. Sumner, but refused it.[163] He was one of the
best men I ever met with, and one of the first classical scholars in the
kingdom, and highly respected by his parishioners as the following
account will shew. He had, as vicar, only the small tithes; and when
requested by some of his friends to raise them he refused, saying, he
had lived on good terms in the parish with every individual for a long
time, and that he would do nothing to forfeit their esteem and would
suffer anything rather than oppress them. When this came to the
knowledge of those who paid tithes, they, as a mark of respect,
immediately made a handsome addition to his income, with a high
panegyric on his integrity. Nothing could put him out of temper except
losing at backgammon. I well remember one evening his coming to the
station and saying he was determined not to be vexed, let what would
happen. We then began to play (not for money), and he lost twenty games
running. At last he roared out, and on my asking him what was the
matter, says he, ‘He’s here.’ ‘Who, sir?’ says I. ‘Why, the devil,’ says
he, ‘is at my elbow, but he shall not make a parson swear.’ I am sorry
to say this worthy gentleman lost his sight some years before his death,
and, in addition to this misfortune, had great domestic troubles which
he bore to the last with unshaken fortitude.
I must not forget another worthy friend, the Reverend Webster Whistler,
Rector of Hastings and New-Timber, who lately died at the advanced age
of eighty-seven. He also was a first-rate scholar and a powerful
preacher; a hater of bigotry and clerical tyranny; possessing great
personal courage, and one of the finest-looking men in the kingdom; with
an athletic frame, upwards of six feet, and looked, when on horseback—as
Napoleon said of Kleber—like one of Homer’s heroes. His kindness and
attention I never shall forget. I was always welcome to his house and he
always sent me a large tithe, as he called it, of fruit and game,
whenever he had an opportunity. I could mention many acts of this kind;
but one mark of respect I cannot pass over. When my mother died, he
selected a particular spot for her grave where he knew the ground was
dry, refused all fees, and even assisted in placing the turf over her
remains. He was not one of your dandy parsons either in dress or
address; for he was not ashamed to wear a rusty black coat, or to knock
down anyone that offended him. I remember a dragoon officer addressing
him one morning with, ‘Damn me, how are you, Whistler?’ ‘If you say that
again, I will fell you to the earth,’ was his reply. Going into a boat,
and having on an old black coat and trowsers, he asked me who I thought
he was like, repeating the following lines:—
Sordid his garb, but in his looks were seen
A youthful vigour, and autumnal green.
‘Can you,’ says he, ‘with all the antiquity you smatter, find out who I
allude to?’ ‘Charon, sir,’ says I. ‘Right,’ says he, ‘I’m the man; but I
am not going on the Styx to-day. The Channel shall be my cruising ground
this morning’; and off he started with some ladies in company. On his
return he came up to the station, foaming with rage, requesting me to
inform him the name of the cutter in the offing, that he might report
her commander to the admiralty for daring to fire at him. Now the fact
was this. The cutter had fired at some boats to bring them to, as the
fishermen had frequently smuggled goods on board; and Mr. Whistler
having boarded one of them to get fish, the commander of the cutter
fired several muskets at his boat, thinking him a smuggler also, which
made the parson pull to land as fast as possible. It was out of my power
to give him the name, as I had not her number. ‘Well, then,’ says he,
‘the first time I can lay hold of him I’ll christen him in the Bourne
stream, by giving him a good ducking.’
The beginning of December 1814 the admiralty directed me to pay off the
station without loss of time, and the next day I received a letter from
the navy board to the same purpose, and further directing me to clear
the station of the stores under my charge, and to sell all unserviceable
articles. Now all this was very well, and they concluded by saying,
We are your Affectionate Friends[164]——
(Signed by three commissioners);
but on the margin of their letter was a postscript as follows:—
‘You are to discharge your midshipman and men on the receipt of this
letter; and yourself, as soon as these instructions have been complied
with.’
So by this I was to do everything myself, which was very kind, in the
dead of winter, three miles from Hastings, and a long way from the
spring where we had our water, and nothing to be had in the
neighbourhood; and upon a hill, said to be 650 feet above the level of
the sea—so that if a snowstorm came on I might remain there alone and
starve and be damned for what some people cared. However, I got a
merchant at Hastings to send his wagons out and take the stores to his
warehouse, until a vessel was sent to receive them; and after selling
the coals and fire stack, I paid off the station on the 7th of December
1814.
APPENDIX
(P. 250)
_The ‘swaggering blue pennant.’_
[As the distinctive pennants for Transport Officers when afloat were
done away with several years ago, and indeed Transport Officers afloat
are now almost unknown, we are happy in being able, by the kindness of
Vice-Admiral George T. H. Boyes, the present Director of Transports,
to give the Regulations, as they stood in 1814, ‘relative to the
pennants of distinction’ appointed to be used by transport agents when
afloat.]
The principal agent, serving on any expedition, in order to be
particularly known and distinguished, shall wear, on board the transport
wherein he is embarked, a blue ensign, together with a plain blue broad
pennant at the main topmast head, of the following dimensions, viz.
eight feet at the staff, and twenty feet long; but, for foul weather,
four feet at the staff, and ten feet long.
When there is but one agent to a division of transports, or when several
agents are not serving under the immediate orders of other agents, a
blue ensign with the common blue pennant at the main topmast head is to
be worn as the only necessary mark of distinction. The broad pennant is
never to be hoisted by any agent who has not another under him.
All inferior agents shall hoist the blue ensign and a plain blue common
pennant, two feet broad at the head, and thirty feet long. A smaller
one, at discretion, may be worn at sea.
Should transports of different expeditions meet at the same port, the
principal agents only of each expedition are to hoist broad pennants at
the main, fore, or mizen topmast heads, according to their respective
rank in his Majesty’s navy: and the inferior agents, belonging to each
expedition, are to hoist common blue pennants at the same masthead with
their principal.
At sea, should a large fleet of transports, all on the same service, be
classed in three grand divisions, the agent commanding each division may
hoist the broad pennant at the main, fore, or mizen topmast heads,
according to their rank, as aforesaid; and their inferior agents in like
manner.
INDEX
Adair, C. H., rear-admiral, commanding the reserve in the Medway, 179
Adams, Buck, jail-keeper, 16
Adams, Francis, carpenter, 124
Alcot, John, captain’s clerk, 55
Alexander, Emperor of Russia, 101
Allardice, Titus, midshipman, died insane, 93;
invalided home, 151
Allen, Henry, midshipman, 94;
commander, hanged, _ib._
Allen, Thomas, midshipman, put on shore in the mutiny, 193;
drowned, 202
Anderson, Robert, surgeon of the Panther, 39
Anderson, Robert, surgeon of the Hind, ‘Benjamin Bullock the Madman,’
194–5; 201
Anguin, Martin, seaman, falls from aloft, 32
Anstruther, Philip, midshipman, 119
Apple pies, assistant surgeon dines on, 223
Archbold, William, midshipman, 119
Archdale, G. J., midshipman, 249
Atkins, Robert, midshipman, 249
Augustus Frederick, Prince (Duke of Sussex), 139
Ayscough, captain 208
Back-strapped, 26 _n._
Badcock, Benjamin, midshipman, drowned, 202
Baldwin, captain of marines, 115
Ball, A., captain, 192
Bantry Bay, expedition to, 188 _n._
Barber, William, midshipman, 153
Barker, William, lieutenant of marines, 13
Barrett, John, midshipman, 123, 125
Barrington, the Hon. Samuel, admiral, 12, 98–9, 112
Barton, Sir John, treasurer of Queen’s household, 18
Bastia, siege and surrender of, due to seamen and marines, 148
Bates, alderman, of Waterford, 221
Bates, Gardner’s cousin, entertains the officers of the Blonde, 221
Batt, Henry, midshipman, 54
Batt, John, midshipman, 125
Bazely, John, port admiral in the Downs, 190
Bazely, John, captain, letter from, 191;
put on shore in the mutiny, 193,
184, 190, 201, 203–4
Beauclerk, Lord Amelius, midshipman, 55, 116;
captain, 131
Bedford, William, lieutenant, 91, 122–4
Beer, spruce, 42 and _n._;
man falls into copper of, 43
Belfry, Knight of the, 68 and _n._
Bell, John, mate of the hold, is painted like an ancient Briton, 149,
153
Bennet, Charles, midshipman, 119
Berkeley, the Hon. G. C., captain, 22, 64
Bertie, Thomas, captain, 229, 232
Biggery, Robert, carpenter, 202
Bingham, Edward, midshipman, 17
Bingham, J., midshipman, 17
Bingham, Robert, chaplain, 17
Bisset, Charles, midshipman, his dog, 47, 53
Blackford, John, boatswain, 224
Blackford, William, 225
Black pieces = muskets, 150
Blake, John, midshipman, 14
Bligh, George Millar, lieutenant, 245, 247
Bligh, John, captain, 229
Bluet, George Rule, midshipman, curious love token, 92
Bone, Johnny, boatswain, devil of a fellow at cap-a-bar, 70–1, 96
Bonny Broom, her ghostly boatswain, 4
Boulogne, camp at, 253 _n._
Bourmaster, John, captain, ‘an honour to the navy,’ 113;
recommends Gardner, 121, 100, 110–11
Bowen, Griffith, lieutenant’s servant, 114
Bowen, Richard, signal midshipman, 116
Bowen, Thomas, lieutenant, 114
Bowler, William, surgeon, R.N., 18
Boyes, George T. H., vice-admiral, director of transports, 265
Boyles, C., captain, 227, 229
Boys boxing during battle, 31
Brace, Edward, midshipman, 95
Bradby, Borromy, midshipman, 54
Bradby, Daniel, rated as captain’s servant, 54
Bradby, James, captain, 41, 52
Bradby, Matthew Barton, captain’s servant, 54
Braham, singer, 182 _n._
Brander, James, boatswain, 39
Brett, William, lieutenant, 170
Brice, lieutenant, court martial on, 213
Bricknell, midshipman, ugly and vain, 171
Bridport, Lord, admiral, 114, 188, 190–1
Bridsdale, Richard, lieutenant, 52
Briggs, lieutenant, encourages the seamen, 174 _n._
Briggs, John, assistant surgeon, 154
Brine, Augustus, midshipman, 117
Brisbane, Charles, captain, 213, 228
Brock, Philip, midshipman, 54
Brooks, Francis, 38
Browell, Mr., 15
Brown, Maurice, midshipman, 92
Brown, Simeon, carpenter, 53
Brown, William, midshipman, 93
Browne, P., midshipman, 117
Bruce, John, midshipman, 117
Buchan, Charles, purser, his foraging expedition, 4–5, 8, 91
Buffalmaco, painter, fresco of The Last Judgment attributed to, 140
Bull, Mr., a man of colour, 232
Buller, John, midshipman, 118
Bullock, William, lieutenant, 151
Burdon, George, captain, 206
Bush, William, midshipman, 117
Bustard, Robert, mate, 115
Butcher, Samuel, midshipman, 124
Byron, the Hon. John, vice-admiral, 11–12
Cadiz, smuggling of dollars at, 160–1;
the Alameda, 161
Calder, Mrs., fond of boat-sailing, 109
Calder, Robert, captain, his harshness, 97, 98;
his civility, 99;
a brave officer, 100;
court martial on, 101;
strict disciplinarian, 107;
ship in high order, 108;
his courtesy, 109, 113
Calvi, siege of, 147
Came, Charles, midshipman, 119
Campbell, Duncan, assistant surgeon, 96
Campbell, George, captain, 144–5;
rear-admiral with Nelson off Toulon, 151,
228, 232
Campbell, John, vice-admiral, 41, 44, 52
Campbell, Luke, midshipman, does duty as schoolmaster, 39
Campbell, Majoribanks, midshipman, 54
Cannadey, Moses, midshipman, 124
Cap-a-bar, note on, 70
Carden, J. S., midshipman, 84;
captain of the Macedonian, 95
Carpenter, James, lieutenant, 114
Carroll, assistant surgeon, 239
Carter, lieutenant, 41
Carter, Charles, lieutenant, 115
Carter, Richard, 18
Carthage, encounter with Turks at, 133;
visit to ruins of, 133–4
Castlereagh, Lord, Lancers or Prancers of, 210
Caulfield, Edward, midshipman, 225
Chantrell, William, lieutenant, his night orders, 109;
a droll fellow, 113;
a narrow escape, 150–1;
smuggles six hundred dollars, 160–1;
settles a dispute at a dinner, 163–4, 167, 170
Chaplain’s bet, 111–12
Chatham, Lord, First Lord of the Admiralty, 80
Chatterton, midshipman, 119
Chest, John, midshipman, his chest, 120
Chissell, John, master, an accomplished linguist, 171
Chissell, Richard, midshipman, 171
Christian, Sir Hugh Cloberry, rear-admiral, 64, 184
Christian, Jonathan, midshipman, 116
Chubb, clerk, drowned, 202
Church, captain, 230
Clark, George, midshipman, 118
Clayton, captain, 174
Cock, carpenter, 31, 39
Cockerell, James, purser, 52
Coet, W., midshipman, 18
Coghlan, John Timothy, master, 183, 201;
his boat-sailing, 195–6;
death, 196