Chapter VI: Part 6

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._

But in this instance they were outwitted, for lo and behold, after 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.

Bryan O’Lynn and his wife, and wife’s mother,
They all hid under a hedge together;
But the rain came so fast they got wet to the skin—
We shall catch a damned cold, says Bryan O’Lynn.

Bryan O’Lynn and his wife, and wife’s mother,
They went in a boat to catch sprats together;
A butt end got stove and the water rushed in—
We’re drowned, by the holy, says Bryan O’Lynn.

Bryan O’Lynn and his wife, and wife’s mother,
They all went on a bridge together;
The bridge it broke and they all fell in—
Strike out and be damned, says Bryan O’Lynn.

Bryan O’Lynn and his wife, and wife’s mother,
They all went out to chapel together;
The door it was shut and they could not get in—
It’s a hell of a misfortune, says Bryan O’Lynn.

Bryan O’Lynn and his wife, and wife’s mother,
They went with the priest to a wake together,
Where they all got drunk and thought it no sin—
It keeps out the cold, says Bryan O’Lynn.

Bryan O’Lynn and his wife, and wife’s mother,
They went to the grave with the corpse together;
The earth being loose they all fell in—
Bear a hand and jump out, says Bryan O’Lynn.

Bryan O’Lynn and his wife, and wife’s mother,
When the berring was over went home together;
In crossing a bog they got up to the chin—
I’m damned but we’re smothered, says Bryan O’Lynn.

Bryan O’Lynn and his wife, and wife’s mother,
By good luck got out of the bog together;
Then went to confess to Father O’Flinn—
We’re damnation sinners, says Bryan O’Lynn.

Bryan O’Lynn and his wife, and wife’s mother,
Resolved to lead a new life together;
And from that day to this have committed no sin—
In the calendar stands SAINT BRYAN O’LYNN.

I have left out four verses as being rather out of order. I have heard the old gunner sing this when the sea has been beating over the forecastle and the ship rolling gunwale under. We used to get a tarpaulin in the weather fore rigging as a screen, and many a pleasant hour have I passed under its lee, with a glass of grog and hearing long-winded stories. Alas! how dead are times now. Captain Wallis behaved very kindly to me. I used to dine with him two or three times a week. He had, as I have stated, strange whims and few men are without them, but his many good qualities threw them in the background, and I have, with grateful remembrance and respect for his memory, to be thankful for his kindness, and particularly for the certificate he gave me on leaving the ship.

Madame Trogoff, the French admiral’s widow,[113] came to England and was a passenger in his cabin. She was a very agreeable woman. We had several French officers (emigrants) who had left Toulon at the evacuation. They were in the greatest tribulation all the passage for fear of being taken. We had also many invalids from the fleet, of very little service had we met with an enemy; and our effective complement I think mustered under a hundred, so that we should have stood but a poor chance had we met with the squadron that I have already mentioned. The forty-seven French prisoners that we had with us were left at Gibraltar, which was a great relief to the emigrants we had on board, as they were in constant fear of their taking the ship from us. The following are the names of the officers:—

JAMES WALLIS, Esq., Captain.

Dead [1808]. He had strange ways, but was an able officer and
seaman. [Commander, 1794; captain, 1797. He was therefore only
acting in the Gordon.]

THOMAS EDGAR, 1st Lieutenant.

Dead. A commander; was master of Captain Clerke’s ship with Cook
round the world.

THOMAS LYNE, 2nd Lieutenant.

A commander; a very good fellow.

WM. CHANTRELL, Supy. Lieutenant.

Dead. See Barfleur and Berwick.

WM. BRETT, Supy. Lieutenant.

Dead. A commander; a good fellow.

[JOHN] CHISSELL, Master.

Dead. A strange fellow; he could speak six or seven different
languages fluently, and was well known in every part of the
Mediterranean.

JERRY HACKER, Purser.

Dead. I believe Jerry was broke. The most strange and
unaccountable fellow the world ever produced.

[WILLIAM] PHILPS, Gunner.

Dead. One of the drollest fellows I ever met with.

[JOHN] DUCKER, Boatswain.

Dead. Much respected.

[JAMES] JEZARD, Carpenter.

Uncertain. A good timber head of his own.

[WILLIAM] POOLE, Clerk.

Dead. Very good abilities, but killed by grog.

ULICK JENNINGS, Midshipman.

Dead. Was captain [commander] of the Woolwich, 44 [store-ship],
but broke by court martial [1, 2 Dec. 1803] at Jamaica, for
thrashing some of the officers of the dockyard. Said to have been
reinstated. A very droll fellow and great mimic. He was in the
Dutch action under Duncan [_cf._ James, ii. 80, 88], and blown up;
his face terribly scarred. Before that he was a very good-looking
fellow. A native of Ireland, possessing great personal courage.
[There was no thrashing, nor threat of thrashing, but much
insulting and domineering conduct. He was found guilty of
‘drunkenness and unofficer-like and irregular behaviour,’ and
dismissed the service. He was not reinstated.]

RICHARD CHISSELL, Midshipman; son of the master.

Dead. A lieutenant. [Borne as A.B.; native of Leghorn, aged 20.]

BRICKNELL, Supy. Midshipman.

Uncertain. The ugliest fellow the world ever produced. He used to
dress with gold-laced hat, silk stockings, and full uniform upon
every occasion, as if going to the queen’s drawing room.

JAMES COURAGE, Assistant Surgeon.

Uncertain. A fractious little fellow.

J. A. GARDNER, doing duty as signal officer.

A commander. See Boreas, Conqueror, etc.

VICTORY, 110.

Vides ut alta stet nive candidum
Soracte, nec jam sustineant onus
Sylvæ laborantes, geluque
Flumina constiterint acuto.

In such a season, unexampled for severity, I joined the Victory in December 1794, in Portsmouth harbour, fitting for the Mediterranean and to receive again the flag of Lord Hood; John Knight, Esq., captain. Had I joined her in St. Fiorenzo Bay at the time I have before stated, I should have been promoted, as those who were before me and many that came after got their commissions as lieutenants; so by this I lost about five months’ rank, and was obliged to go to London to pass my examination, as passing abroad is of no use unless you get promotion on the spot. On my representing to the first lieutenant (Hamilton) that I intended to apply to Captain Knight for permission to go and pass, and requesting him to forward my application, he in the most unhandsome manner said he would do no such thing, and would protest against my getting leave.

Now without flattering myself, I thought I knew the service (without being a conjuror) as well as Lieutenant Hamilton; and although he said it was his intention to send me on board the Commerce de Marseilles to assist in fitting her out at Spithead (notwithstanding that my right arm was hurt and obliged to wear it in a sling), I wrote to Captain Knight on the subject, who immediately granted my request. On my stating this to Lieutenant Hamilton, he said he should still oppose it, adding with a sneer that my promotion he supposed would not be so rapid as I expected. Without taking notice of his remarks I went on shore to take my place in the coach, and on my return the next morning to get my things I found that the ship had gone into dock, and that my chest, and that of another gentleman’s who had lately joined, had not been removed to the hulk, but left in the ship, where it was broke open, and everything I possessed, with the exception of my quadrant, stolen. The other poor fellow suffered the same misfortune.

This was a heart-breaking circumstance to me, as I had just fitted myself out, and, with what I brought home, my loss was considerable. I had nothing left but what I stood in, and most of my pay that I received for the Berwick was expended. My messmates said they were very sorry for the loss I had sustained. Instead of being sorry, they ought to have been ashamed of their gross neglect. One of them had been in the Barfleur with me, and if possible, was more to blame than the rest who were strangers. I am not vindictive, but from that day to this I have hated the sight of a Portsmouth dockyard man. I had little time and less money to get fitted out again before the examination took place, which was early in January; so up to London I went ‘with a heart rather sad.’ I had on a mate’s coat, a red waistcoat and grey trowsers, in which costume I passed my examination. I was so down in spirits before I went in that I made sure I should be turned back. My old and lamented friend and messmate, the late Captain Eaton, went with me and positively pushed me into the room where the commissioners were seated, saying, ‘Damn your eyes,[114] Tony, what are you afraid of?’

One of the commissioners (Harmood) was an intimate friend of my father’s; and Sir Samuel Marshall, the deputy comptroller of the navy, was a particular friend of Admiral Parry, my mother’s uncle. To these I was recommended; but notwithstanding I could not get the better of my dread, until Commissioner Harmood, after a few questions had been put to me, said, ‘I think we need not ask any more.’ Captain Clayton, another of the commissioners, in reply said, ‘I shall merely ask one question more. You have a close-reefed main topsail set, blowing a gale of wind; you cannot carry it. Pray, sir, how will you take it in, without splitting the sail?’ Having answered this, but not exactly to his satisfaction, as I started the weather sheet first, and he the lee one, I was told they had done with me, and glad enough I was; particularly so, when they said the certificates I produced ought to get me a commission without interest.

On this hint I transmitted them the next day to Earl Spencer, the first lord of the admiralty. This was on the 9th January 1795, and I returned to Portsmouth on the 14th; but before I went on board I took a stroll in the dockyard, where I met two old messmates, the late Captains Lamb and Wolridge, and on my asking them for news, they said they had just left the commissioner’s office and had heard nothing. However I thought I would just call at the office and take a look, and on my entering the hall where the letters are placed on a table, the first I observed was directed to Lieutenant J. A. Gardner, H.M. ship Victory. I looked at it several times, rubbed my eyes and looked and looked again at what I thought an illusion; but I found what I considered shadow to be substance; for on opening the letter it ran thus: ‘That Earl Spencer had received my memorial on the 11th, and that my appointment as lieutenant had passed the board on the 12th January.’ This eased my mind of a load, and my prospects, that were dark and dismal from the loss I had sustained, brightened up, and with a light heart I waited on Captain Knight to thank him for granting me leave and to show him my letter. He wished me joy and expressed great indignation at the loss of my effects.

I must here state that, besides what I brought home from abroad, I lost twenty new shirts, two suits of uniform, trowsers, waistcoats, boots, etc., etc., in fact everything but my quadrant; and that no doubt would have gone also, but my name was engraved on the brass.

On my return to the Victory to report myself, Lieutenant Hamilton was all politeness. I was asked down to the wardroom, and Lieutenant Vincent, who had been a midshipman with me in the Salisbury, but who had hardly spoken to me before, forgot his pomposity and was as friendly as in times of old; but I disdained their kindness as well as the dinner they asked me to, and went on shore without taking leave of the men who suffered, by base neglect, an absent messmate to be plundered by rascally dockyard men. I was so short a time on board the Victory that I remember but few, and a great number were on leave who I never saw. Some of those in the mess I knew little of, and only remember the names of four.

With the Victory ends my servitude of mate and midshipman, but I never can forget the many happy days I passed in that capacity. It was some time before I knew what ship I was appointed to; but on the receipt of a letter from Mr. Harrison, Lord Spencer’s private secretary, I was informed that it was to the Hind, 28, at Sheerness, and that I was to come to London to be sworn in without loss of time.

LORD HOOD, Admiral of the blue.

Dead [1816]. An admiral of the white and Governor of Greenwich
Hospital; a most able tactician.—[_D.N.B._]

JOHN KNIGHT, Esq., Captain.

Dead [1831]. An admiral of the red and K.C.B.; a very able
officer; see his charts.—[Marshall, i. 154.]

EDWARD HAMILTON, 1st Lieutenant.

A vice-admiral; a baronet and K.C.B. He recaptured the Hermione.
[Died, an admiral, 1851.—_D.N.B._]

MARTIN HINTON, 2nd Lieutenant.

Dead. A commander; a good sailor.

RICHARD BUDD VINCENT, 3rd Lieutenant.

Dead. See Salisbury.

JOHN MCARTHUR, Secretary.

A very clever fellow, and one of the first swordsmen in Europe
[Died 1840.—_D.N.B._]

LAWFORD MILES, Lieutenant of Marines.

Dead. A captain; good-natured and thoughtless.

WILLIAM RIVERS, Gunner.

Dead. See Barfleur.

JOHN MARR, Boatswain.

Dead. See Barfleur.

GEO. WOLFE, Midshipman or mate.

Dead [1825]. A post captain; a worthy fellow—[Marshall, iii. 310.]

H[ENRY] VANSITTART, Midshipman.

A rear-admiral. [Died, a vice-admiral, 1843.—O’Byrne.]

G. E. HAMOND, Midshipman.

A vice-admiral, Bart., and K.C.B. [Died, an admiral and G.C.B.
1862.—_D.N.B._]

RICHARD W. SIMMONDS. Midshipman.

Dead. See Barfleur.

WILLIAM PYE, Schoolmaster.

Dead. See Salisbury and Barfleur.

J. A. GARDNER, Midshipman.

A commander.

I remember no more.

HIND, 28

After being sworn in at the admiralty,[115] I left London to join the Hind, 28, Captain Richard Lee, at Sheerness, in January 1795. The Medway and Thames being frozen over, there was no communication with the men of war.[116] I proceeded on my journey by coach as far as Sittingbourne, and then walked most of the way through deep snow to the King’s ferry, which was also frozen over. At this time my health was very bad, and coming from a fine climate to one noted for gloomy skies, fog, rain, bitter cold and everything else that was damnable, I had nearly sunk under it, and I have to acknowledge how much I was obliged to Mr. Poulden, an officer in the navy, and brother to Captain Poulden,[117] R.N., for his kind attention. He was a fellow traveller going also to join his ship at Sheerness. The snow was several feet deep, and the cold dreadful, and it was with the greatest difficulty and fatigue that we reached the public-house near the ferry without being frost-bitten.