Chapter III: A Firmer Rule

At the beginning of the year 1793, then, while the relations of this country with France were quickly growing desperate, the two statesmen who, according to the custom of the time, jointly filled the office of Postmaster General, were engaged in endeavouring to set their Department in order, and to reduce the expenses of administration, as the House of Commons Committee had directed.

The difficulty of any interference in a system which had grown up through a whole century was obviously very great. Malpractices which four generations of officers at Falmouth had learned to regard as their natural privileges would not be given up at the first word of rebuke from headquarters. The profits of smuggling would not be dropped without a struggle. Laxity of discipline, remissness, carelessness of the credit of the Department—these were faults which, where they existed, could be cured only by a firm rule and in course of years. One decision had, however, been taken, and was already being carried out, from which important results proceeded, and which upon the whole effected much good.

Throughout the whole existence of the Falmouth Packets up to this time it had scarcely been questioned that on the long Atlantic voyages the safety of the mails was directly proportionate to the heaviness of the armament. The West India merchants were perpetually forcing this point on the Postmaster General, and whenever a mail for Barbados or Jamaica was lost, the General Post-Office was beset with an indignant throng of merchants, loudly demanding that more and more guns should be assigned to every Packet which had to run the gauntlet of the West India Islands.

The influence of wealthy merchants upon the Post-Office is perhaps in our own day as great as is convenient. But a hundred years ago it was infinitely greater. For the General Post-Office, which has now grown into something resembling a populous town, was then itself scarcely larger than the office of any considerable merchant. Between St. Martin’s le Grand, as we know it, and the office of whatever city firm, there may be interchange of views, but there can be no intimate association; and it is exactly this which existed between the Post-Office in Lombard Street, in 1793, and the neighbouring offices, which were as large, if not as important, as itself.

The Post-Office Packets in those days were carriers of news as well as of the mails. The officers had instructions to record most carefully in their journals full details of any events of public importance occurring in the countries which they visited. These journals, which frequently contained news later and more authentic than any which had yet reached London, were sent up from Falmouth immediately after the arrival of the Packets, and lay at the Post-Office open to the inspection of the merchants, who were thus continually in the office, inquiring and commenting on every detail connected with the administration of the Packets, proffering suggestions, and criticizing in season and out of season.

This constant association with the clerks of the Post-Office placed in the hands of the West India merchants very great opportunities of pressing their views about the armament of the Packets, and they did press them with such pertinacity and vehemence that it must have required courage on the part of Lords Chesterfield and Carteret to announce the resolution not to increase those armaments, but to cut them down, and to send the Packets to sea in future totally unfit to resist Privateers of their own size.

Such was the new policy, arranged in concert with the Navy Board. It was not lacking in audacity. The Packets stationed at Falmouth were of different sizes and varying rig. In future, all new vessels were to be of a certain fixed design, of 179 tons burden, carrying a crew of twenty-eight men and boys, with four 4–pounders, two 6–pounders, for use as chasers, and a proportionate quantity of small arms.

A vessel armed and manned in this way was clearly not a fair match for any but the smallest class of French or Spanish Privateer. My Lords the Postmaster General admitted this, and stated that their reliance was on the capacity of the new Packets to outsail their enemies. The most patient thought had been given to the selection of the model. It was believed that vessels built on the new design would outsail most things afloat, and in order to give them a fair chance of doing so they were to carry as little weight of metal as possible. If they could keep off row-boats on entering or leaving the channel, more was scarcely expected of them save in the last resort. The commander’s duties were summed up in this formula, “You must run where you can. You must fight when you can no longer run, and when you can fight no more you must sink the mails before you strike.”

Here at one blow perished the system of Privateering in the Packet Service. A ship armed so lightly could not afford to cruise after prizes, but was sufficiently concerned with her own safety.

The West India merchants prophesied disaster, and indeed it seems that the Postmaster General in framing their plans were not untainted by the proverbially excessive zeal of the convert. The events of the next few years certainly suggest that the point of safety had been passed in reducing the armaments; and all the changes effected by further experience throughout the war were in the direction of increase.

Such as the system was, however, it was established, and My Lords had no time to discuss its merits or defects. The declaration of war burst upon them before their plans were executed, and forthwith the General Post-Office was beset with armourers and powder merchants, while the clerks were called off from handling letters and newspapers to discuss the pattern of a boarding pike, or to consult with Mr. Nock about the quality of the pistols which he had supplied.

Not one of the Packets had received its armament when the war broke out. It had not lasted three weeks when an incident occurred which showed how little time there was to waste.

The declaration of war had been immediately followed by a general embargo on shipping, but, in pursuance of an agreement between the French and English Governments, an order in Council exempted from this embargo Packets, and bye boats (vessels hired temporarily for the Postal Service), and announced that they were to continue to run for some time longer.

Under this agreement the “Despatch,” a Dover Packet, commanded by Captain John Osborn, set sail as usual; but on February 20th, while lying in Ostend Roads, she was summoned to surrender by a French Privateer. Captain Osborn had no means of resistance. His protests were disregarded, his ship was seized, and he with his crew were made prisoners of war.

The “Despatch” was carried into Dunkirk, and, despite the remonstrances of the British Government, was condemned as a prize. Captain Osborn was exchanged within a few weeks of his capture, but his crew were less fortunate. One of his sailors, after remaining in prison for nearly three years, during the whole of which period, if his statement may be trusted, he supported life on a handful of horse beans, served out every twenty-four hours, and a small allowance of dirty water, came over to England in a cartel in December, 1795. The rest of the crew were then still in prison, and probably remained there until peace was declared in 1802.

Under the stimulus of this unfortunate event the work of arming the Packets proceeded briskly. The guns and small arms for the Falmouth boats were shipped on board a vessel lying in the Thames, and after a series of irritating delays, caused chiefly by the necessity of waiting for convoy, reached their destination towards the end of March. The few guns needed for the Harwich Packets were soon provided. It had been intended to give them 4–pounders, but the commanders objected, declaring that four 2–pounders each were as much as their ships could carry. This was probably true enough, for the North Sea Packets ranged only from fifty to eighty tons burden. And indeed they had small need for heavy armaments, for though they doubtless had occasionally to skirmish with row-boats it does not appear that throughout the war any one of these Packets was attacked, or at least seriously engaged on the high seas—a somewhat remarkable immunity, which is perhaps to be accounted for partly by their own excellence of sailing, and partly by the thoroughness with which the important trade route over which their various voyages were made was patrolled by British cruisers.

It had not been customary in former wars to arm the Holyhead and Dublin boats, but a few light guns were now allowed to them, as well as to those from Port Patrick to Donaghadee. The Packets running between Milford Haven and Waterford were somewhat more exposed to the attacks of Privateers, which might be expected to hang about the entrance to St. George’s Channel in the hope of intercepting the shipping out of Bristol, but here a curious difficulty was raised by the proprietors, a body of merchants, nineteen in number. All but six of these gentlemen were members of the Society of Friends, and, being sincerely convinced of the sinfulness of war, they put in a decided objection against the proposal to provide their vessels with implements of strife and destruction.

The Postmaster General proceeded to reason with these ardent theorists, and pointed out that as, by the existing rule, the Department was bound to pay the value of captured Packets it was but reasonable that it should be allowed, at its own cost, to protect them. The men of peace, touched by the financial argument, admitted this, but retorted that if only the Government would refrain from the wickedness of placing guns and cutlasses in the hands of their sailors, they, that is to say the thirteen Quaker proprietors, would waive all claim to compensation in the event of capture. It was true, they admitted, that the six proprietors who were not Quakers were by no means ready to make this sacrifice, but the Government, they urged, might fairly be expected to risk the liability for six-nineteenths of the loss when a principle was at stake.

By this time, however, the Postmaster General had become tired of the discussion, and closed it with a brief intimation that if the Packets were not armed the contract would be withdrawn, and in view of this unsympathetic attitude the Quakers sold their shares and retired from the concern.

That the unwarlike attitude of the Quakers was by no means always accompanied by any want of natural courage was demonstrated not long after this period by a certain inhabitant of Falmouth, an old and greatly respected member of the Society of Friends. This gentleman held the appointment of surgeon to the Post-Office establishment, and was one day cruising on board a Packet when a French Privateer hove in sight. It was obvious that there was going to be a fight; and the commander, knowing his passenger’s principles, suggested that he had better go below. The doctor, a fine tall man, declined to budge from the deck; and the captain thereupon offered him a cutlass and pistol, observing that as he intended to remain in the way of danger, he might at least use weapons in self-defence. But this suggestion also the doctor refused to entertain; and, standing quite unarmed on the quarter-deck, he remained an interested and placid spectator of the action. After a sharp cannonade, the French vessel hurled her boarders into the Packet. The doctor showed no sign of excitement as he saw the fierce St. Malo men swarming up the sides, cutlass in hand; but when, a moment later, a swarthy giant came clambering up unperceived, at a point where there was no one to resist him, the doctor calmly stepped forward, threw his arms round the astonished Frenchman with a grip few men could have resisted, and saying, gently, “Friend, thee makes a mistake, this is not thy ship,” tossed him into the sea.

The work of armament was complete at last. The Packets, armed on the new system, sailed on their distant journeys; and at the General Post-Office there was no more to do than to await the reports how they fared.

The interval of waiting must have been full of anxiety. It was generally known that the number of French Privateers which were being sent out from St. Malo, Bordeaux, Nantes, and a dozen other ports, to prey on British commerce was beyond all precedent. Many of these Privateers cruised with the express intention of intercepting the Packets, attracted not only by the bullion which the Falmouth vessels frequently had on board, but even more by the hope of intercepting the Government despatches, and of striking blows at British trade by sending mercantile correspondence to the bottom of the sea.

How seriously such disasters were felt in the City of London the Postmaster General knew well; and they knew too that the West India merchants, those unfriendly critics who were constantly at their side, would pounce unmercifully on the first misfortune, and declare that the new system had broken down. Month after month went by, however, and no bad news reached Lombard Street. Packet after Packet came into port, and recorded uneventful voyages. Some had been chased, a few had exchanged shots with an enemy; but not one had been seriously engaged, or had experienced the least difficulty in escaping an antagonist; and the end of the year came before any Packet crept in beneath Pendennis Castle with battered sides, and sails torn by shot.

The “Antelope” Packet was commanded by Captain Kempthorne, a member of an old Cornish family which for many generations gave the navy some of its best officers. Captain Kempthorne, by some accident which he regretted during the short remainder of his life, had remained at home, and given over the command of his ship to Mr. Edward Curtis, the master, an officer of courage and discretion.

Under the charge of her acting commander, the “Antelope” was off Cumberland Harbour, in Jamaica, homeward bound, when she fell in with two schooners which at once gave chase. This was on the 1st December. Mr. Curtis put the ship to her best point of sailing, and she behaved so well that throughout the day the Cornishmen felt no doubt of being able to shake off their enemies. On the following morning one of the schooners was out of sight, but the other held on, and about four P.M. opened fire with her bow chasers. The “Antelope” replied smartly with all the guns she could bring to bear; and the Privateer, finding there was to be no bloodless victory, dropped astern, with the evident design of waiting for daylight before she commenced the action. Fearing a surprise, Mr. Curtis kept his men at their quarters throughout the night. The hours of waiting must have been trying to the nerve of the Falmouth men; but all was quiet until five A.M. At that hour the Privateer (her name was the “Atalanta”) suddenly ran down, aided by her sweeps, for the wind had dropped, and, laying herself alongside the “Antelope” to starboard, she poured in a broadside, which was promptly returned, and immediately a furious discharge of cannon and small arms set in on both sides. Under cover of the smoke the “Atalanta” cast out grappling irons and locked herself to the Packet, and at the same moment, by a shrill signal, her boarders were called to their stations.

Mr. Curtis was perfectly alive to the danger of his position. Some of his hands having been disabled by fever, he had but twenty-two men fit for service, counting the surgeon as a combatant; and a single glance was sufficient to show that the French were in much greater numbers. There was no chance of avoiding the assault, now that the grappling irons were securely fixed: yet, if the Privateersmen made good their footing on the deck of the Packet, the Cornishmen were tolerably certain to be overwhelmed by numbers.

At the moment when Mr. Curtis was watching the boarders congregating on the quarter, it was reported to him that a second party was forming at the bow. The Packetsmen were all too few to resist a single attack, and the design of the enemy clearly was to keep the whole force occupied at the stern, while a second party clambered over the bow nettings unresisted, and took the Cornishmen in the rear. Mr. Curtis hurried forward. There was not an instant to lose. The boarders were already mounting the bulwarks of their own ship. Some fifteen in number, they crowded together in a dense body, and in another instant would have leapt at the “Antelope,” when Mr. Curtis brought his two bow guns to bear upon them, double-shotted with round and grape. At that short range the discharge of these guns created terrible havoc, and killed or disabled the whole of the opposing party.

One peril had been successfully overcome, and the pressing danger was now on the starboard quarter, against which the attack had been delivered before Mr. Curtis could regain his quarter-deck. There was no gun which could be brought to bear, and the boarders consequently met with no obstacle in climbing up the side. Here, however, in the breezy language of the boatswain, John Pasco, “they were deceived by our boarding nettings and handspikes,” and after a desperate scuffle half of them were shot or thrust into the sea, while the remainder were glad enough to regain their own ship.

So far, fortune had favoured the Cornishmen; but success had been bought at a heavy price. Mr. Curtis lay dead on the deck—shot while encouraging his men without regard for his personal danger. The steward and a passenger were also killed; while the mate was so severely wounded as to be incapable of taking command of the ship, or indeed of giving any orders at all. The command thus devolved upon Pasco, the boatswain, an illiterate fellow, who could not write his name, but who in this emergency displayed the qualities of a brave sailor, and a born leader of men. He assumed the responsibility thus suddenly thrust on him without hesitation, and gave orders for a continuous fire of musketry to be maintained upon anything which showed itself on the French vessel’s decks. The “Antelope” was considerably higher than her antagonist, and the Cornish marksmen were thus under cover, while the decks of the “Atalanta” were swept by their bullets. At the same time a sharp cannonade was maintained, and by an unfortunate shot one of the “Antelope’s” guns was dismounted, whereupon Henry Bond, a seaman, believed to be one of the strongest men in England, coolly took up the gun in his arms, remounted it under a heavy fire, and returned to his post unharmed.

The effect of the musketry fire maintained by the Cornishmen was now beginning to show. The French were growing restless under it; and their officers, seeing that they were losing heavily, ordered the boarders forward once more. Pasco and his little crew were ready for them when they came, pleased to return to the occupation of “deceiving” the French with a handspike; and the end of it was that the boarders were driven back with great loss, but once more at a heavy cost, for three of the brave Packetsmen were disabled in the fight.

By this time the spirit of the French was daunted. They had lost all hope of capturing the “Antelope,” and, casting loose the grapplings, endeavoured to sheer off. Now was the time for Pasco to bear in mind the new official maxim, that commanders of Packets were not expected to resist an enemy of equal force. He had suffered heavy losses, he had but a handful of men fit for service, he had earned distinction by his brave defence, and if he let the French vessel go, he had nothing but credit to expect. But the man’s blood was up, and he meant to carry the affair through. The moment he saw the vessels separating, he sprang into the rigging, ran up aloft, and lashed the “Atalanta’s” squaresail yard to the “Antelope’s” fore shrouds.

“Thereupon,” to quote his own words once more, “we found the fire
slacken, which greatly encouraged us. We kept up a constant fire for
half an hour more, when we had the pleasure of hearing them cry for
mercy. But to all appearance they deserved none, nor expected any,
as some of them jumped overboard and drowned themselves, for their
bloody flag was nailed to the masthead. They were ordered to tear it
down, and we took possession, which it was lucky was so soon; for
our mainsail, nettings, quarter cloths, and hammocks were on fire,
which in the midst of the fire and smoke was not seen. To save the
ship we were obliged to cut all away.”

Thus ended this gallant action. When Pasco and his men had leisure to examine their prize, they found that out of her crew of sixty-five men only sixteen remained unhurt, while no less than thirty-two lay dead upon the deck. Of the “Antelope’s” crew only two were slain, namely, Mr. Curtis and the steward; though Mr. Walpole, the surgeon, afterwards died, exhausted, as would appear, by the fatigue of attending on so many wounded men.

In James’ _Naval History_ (vol. i., p. 111), where this action is briefly described, it is stated that the “Atalanta” carried eight 3–pounders, and the “Antelope” six. If this is correct, the “Antelope” had not yet been armed on the new principle described in the preceding pages. She was an old vessel, and it may have been thought wiser to leave her armaments unaltered.

When the circumstances of the action became known, the public enthusiasm rose to a height which seems in the retrospect a little overstrained, but which may certainly be accepted as a proof of the high degree of importance attached to the preservation of the mails. The news, moreover, reached England at a time when no great naval engagement had taken place, and when the success of several single ship actions had whetted the public appetite for glory without satisfying it. There was, too, something in the circumstances which touched the imagination; for it was not every day, even in the years of our greatest sea-fights, that a ship was brought out of action by her boatswain. It was seriously proposed to strike a medal in Pasco’s honour. The Jamaica House of Representatives voted five hundred guineas to be distributed among the crew. The Society for Encouraging the Capture of French Privateers—it was a Committee of Lloyds—granted a substantial sum for the same purpose, in addition to a gold boatswain’s call which they presented to Pasco, who was also rewarded by the Postmaster General with another similar call; while “smart money” and pensions were granted on the highest scale consistent with the regulations.

Even in distributing these rewards the Postmaster General found an opportunity for asserting their new principle. The Secretary’s letter to the agent at Falmouth ran as follows: “But Mr. Pender must let it be thoroughly understood amongst the officers and crews that these rewards are given only in consequence of the particular circumstances attending this glorious action, in which the “Antelope” was first chased from nine o’clock A.M. December 1st to December 2nd, when she was obliged to defend herself against an attack, but did not first attack an enemy. For the Postmaster General by no means intend to depart from the principle which they have been ordered to adopt, of considering it to be the duty of the Packets to outsail the enemy whenever they can, and by no means to fight when it can possibly be avoided.” In such terms the Secretary pointed his moral, perhaps a little incautiously. How his instructions were interpreted will appear hereafter.

Before leaving the subject of the “Antelope’s” action, it must be observed that the newspapers of the time were full of praise of the extraordinary bravery of a certain M. Nodin, a passenger, formerly a midshipman in the French navy. The circumstances, if true, are remarkable enough; but there is still in existence an official copy of a declaration signed by Pasco himself and by the gunner of the “Antelope,” in which the whole story is denied. M. Nodin resented this disparaging deposition, and threatened proceedings against the two petty officers for defaming his character, a suit which the Postmaster General described as “absurd,” and which does not seem to have been proceeded with. It is quite clear that the Post-Office authorities did not believe the story of M. Nodin’s prowess. The matter might not have been worth mentioning had not the tale acquired authority by being set forth by James (_Naval History_, vol. i., p. 112). The authors and upholders of the new system were, doubtless, cheered and encouraged by this action, which seemed to show that great results might be achieved with even smaller armaments than those recommended for the new Packets. The fact that one of the oldest and worst equipped ships had won this striking success was hailed as a happy augury; and so the old year went out among mutual congratulations and good hope for the future.

The sunshine was of short duration. The storm was rising already. In the first days of January the loss of the “Arab” was reported at the Post-Office. The “Arab” was one of the new Packets, and her capture was a serious misfortune. It appeared that she had been taken by a French frigate, “L’Insurgente,” while on her homeward passage from Corunna on Christmas Eve; and while it was evident that resistance would have been a useless sacrifice of life, there was some disappointment on finding that the “Arab’s” fine sailing qualities had not saved her.

Another disaster was quickly announced, though belonging this time more plainly to the category of accident. The “Princess Augusta,” again one of the new ships, caught fire while lying in the Tagus, and was completely burned. This was a mere piece of bad luck; but so much could not be said of the loss of the “Expedition,” which was carried into Brest, in April, by a French frigate, which she had failed to outsail. The matter was the more serious since not only one mail was lost, but three, the scarcity of Packets having compelled the Post-Office agent at Lisbon to despatch the mails of three successive weeks by a single ship. The precaution commonly taken in those days of sending duplicates of all despatches and important letters by the next mail following that which had carried the originals was thus completely frustrated on this occasion, and the inconvenience to the Government and the mercantile community must have been immense.

To losses of this nature, however, of which, in these days, people rarely think, the merchants of a hundred years ago were well accustomed; and on the whole they endured them with exemplary patience. The prevalent ideas of the risks of business were formed on the experience of a century of almost constant war. So far, the losses of Packets had been less numerous than in the last war; and there was, therefore, no great degree of discontent.

In July, the “King George,” a Lisbon Packet commanded by Captain Yescombe, was captured. She was about thirty leagues off Ushant, on her homeward voyage from Lisbon, when she fell in with four large French ships standing on the same tack. Captain Yescombe wore ship, and ran to the southwest until he had lost sight of the enemy for an hour or more; but had scarcely resumed his proper course when the four ships came in sight again, followed by four more in the same quarter; and in trying to avoid these squadrons, Captain Yescombe manœuvred himself into the jaws of the French 40–gun ship “Unité”; whereupon he sank the mails and despatches and struck his colours.

His experiences as a prisoner in France were rather curious. The “King George” was carried into Brest, and after remaining some time at that port, Captain Yescombe and his crew were sent to Quimper. It would appear from his letters that the English sailors confined in the naval prison of that town suffered great hardships, and that within nine weeks of his arrival no less than three hundred out of the whole number died miserably for want of proper food. From the risk of sharing their fate Captain Yescombe was delivered by a singular piece of good fortune. A lady residing near the prison, who happened to be related to the Commissary in charge of the prisoners, became aware of his forlorn condition, and obtained permission for him to lodge at her house. This arrangement continued for several months, when Captain Yescombe managed to escape, being, as he always maintained, not on parole at the time. He made his way to Brest, where he remained concealed for several weeks; and during this time he witnessed the sailing of the great fleet, which got out of Brest on the 31st December, 1794, under the command of Villaret Joyeuse; and gathered details concerning its composition and equipment which afterwards proved of service to the British Government. Towards the end of January he managed to obtain a passage across the Channel, and landed at Plymouth, greatly broken in health by the hardships he had undergone.

The romantic circumstances of this escape attracted attention both in England and in France. In the newspapers of the latter country it was indeed freely asserted that Captain Yescombe had broken his parole; and though the Postmaster General accepted their officer’s assurances on this point, yet the charge was so strongly asserted in France, and threats were so publicly made of meting out rigorous treatment to Captain Yescombe if he should again become a prisoner of war, that it was thought more prudent to allow his duties to be discharged by deputy for a time, and the “King George” accordingly sailed under command of her master until peace was declared in 1802.