Chapter IV: Part 4

Another time when attacking the poop, I was standing on one of the quarter deck guns, when I received a violent blow on the face from a broomstick, which made my nose bleed off and on for several days. It was thrown at me by J. S. Carden (now Captain Carden[64]) and a hand swab was thrown at him, which falling short, entered one of the office windows, which put an end to the attack. It was laughable to see John Macredie take the part of Ajax Telamon, with a half-port for a shield and a boarding-pike for a lance. Culverhouse used to take the part of Diomede, but instead of a lance would use the single-stick, with which he was superior to anyone in the fleet. He was a very clever fellow, full of fun and drollery, and sung humorous songs in the most comic style. I remember a verse or two of one:

When first they impressed me and sent me to sea,
’Twas in the winter time in the making of hay,
They sent me on board of a ship called Torbay,
Oh! her white muzzle guns they did sore frighten me,
Musha tudey, etc.

Says the boatswain to Paddy, And what brought you here?
For the making of hay ’tis the wrong time of year.
By Jasus, says Paddy, I wish I was gone,
For your small wooden kingdom I don’t understand.
Musha tudey, etc.

Oh! the first thing they gave me it was a long sack,[65]
Which they tould me to get in and lay on my back;
I lay on my back till the clock struck one bell,
And the man overhead he sung out, All is well.
Musha tudey, etc.

We had a very droll midshipman who lately died an old post captain, and was one of the best officers in the service. This gentleman was a kind of ventriloquist, and when we sat in the officers’ seat in Gosport chapel, and opposite to old Paul the clerk, of beer-drinking memory, whenever this man would begin to sing, the other would go Quack, Quack, Quack; sometimes high and sometimes low, according as the clerk would sing the psalm. I have seen the old fellow look round with amazement, the people whispering to one another, while others could not keep their countenance but would hold their heads down and laugh. I remember him coming on board late one night in a wherry from Gosport, and it being calm we could hear him quacking a long way off. We then lay at the Hardway moorings. When the wherry got alongside the waterman swore he would be damned sooner than have that chap in his boat again. Had he known as much, he would not have taken him off for any money; he certainly was the devil or his near relation, for some hell-hound or other had been following him on the water all the way from Burrow Castle (near the Magazine and reported to be haunted) until he got alongside. He said he knew that Burrow Castle was haunted and he’d take good care to return on the other side of the harbour, and blast him if he’d ever come that way at night. I had the watch upon deck at the time and remember every word, and I thought I should have died a-laughing.

Our first lieutenant had an inveterate hatred to the Barfleur (the flagship) for the following reason. The signal was made for all midshipmen, and I had just returned in the long boat from Spithead, where we had been fishing, and was then going to relieve the deck, it being my watch, when Lieutenant Yetts ordered me to answer the signal. On my asking him leave to go below and get ready, as I was certain they would turn me back if I went in the dress I had on, ‘Mr. Gardner, will you dictate to me?’ was his reply; ‘Go as you are, sir.’ When I got on board the Barfleur, Lieutenant Ross (who I knew very well) was commanding officer. The moment he saw me he came up, and with eyes of a dog fish, asked who I was and where I came from. I could hardly help laughing at the question. However, I explained to him the reason, but all to no purpose, as he sent me into my boat saying, ‘Tell your officer that I made the signal for a midshipman, and not for a fisherman, and he ought to have known better from the length of time he had been in the service.’

On my delivering this insolent message to Lieutenant Yetts, it put him in a great rage and he swore, damn his brains, but he’d remember Master Ross for his kindness, the first opportunity. This Ross was a satirist, or would be thought so, because he wrote some poem in doggerel rhymes of scurrilous merit, abusing some of the officers of the guard-ships and many of the respectable people of Gosport. He also wrote a play which was damned and hissed off the stage, and some other pieces of the same description. Soon after this it came to our turn to have the guard, and late in the first watch, Lieutenant Yetts sent for me and gave orders that I should go in the cutter and row guard, and if possible get alongside the Barfleur. Away I went round the guard-ships, and left the Barfleur for the last. On rowing ahead I let the boat drop down with the tide and actually got alongside her accommodation ladder without being hailed. It is the duty of a lieutenant to row guard, so I did not think myself justified in boarding her, which I could have done; but remained some time alongside. At last one of the midshipmen (Mr. Holmes) hailed from the gangway, ‘What boat is that?’ upon which I called out as loud as I could hollo, ‘Guard boat!’ and that I had been alongside a considerable time without being hailed—to his great astonishment, as he informed me afterwards. On my telling this to Mr. Yetts, he rubbed his hands and swore that everyone should know how the damned brutes were caught napping.

In the absence of the admiral we, as senior captain, would have the command; and when exercising sails or getting down top gallant yards etc, if the Barfleur only showed a man’s head above deck, up would go her signal to call her men down out of the tops and rigging, and old Yetts would exclaim, ‘Damn my brains, no starting before us; we are masters now.’ Mr. Nowell, our second lieutenant, was a very powerful and active man; and though gloomy and fiery at times, was much the gentleman. He was famous at fencing and jumping, and could, as I have been told, jump across the gateway of Gosport works—about twenty feet. On one occasion he sprained his ankle, when Frost (one of our midshipmen) said in his hearing and mocking the Welsh (Nowell being a Welshman) ‘My vather a tevil of a good shumper, shumped twenty veet, came right down, proke his ankle, could no more shumpy.’ For this the other gave him a look that spoke volumes.

This Frost was a complete Commodore Gale and went by the nickname of Hard Frost. It is related that when his wife died he gave a dinner on the day of her funeral. When the company arrived, Frost was dead drunk; upon which some of the party laid him out, with a leg of mutton under his head for a pillow, and a bunch of turnips under his feet. In the early time of the guard-ships there was a board held by the midshipmen of the Queen, 98, the flagship, where the midshipmen of the other ships used to go to pass their examination for a blackguard. Frost, who belonged to the Pégase, 74, went to pass, and on the occasion showed such transcendent abilities, that the board considered him a wonder, and requested he would take his seat as a member. I could relate many of his sayings, but they had better sink into oblivion.

Our first lieutenant was a devil for scrubbing decks, and in the dead of winter we frequently had to shovel the snow from the quarter deck, and take a spell, about half-past four in the morning, with the holystone and hand organs, while the water would freeze as soon as it was thrown on the deck. The general order, made into rhyme by Flood [was] as follows:

The decks, as usual, to be washed and scrubbed;
And with the holystone severely rubbed.

To show the superstition of sailors I must mention the following anecdote. Not a hundred miles from Portsmouth lived a great nabob, who formerly possessed a large fortune, but from gambling and other bad management had greatly fallen off, and the neighbours used to say he had dealings with the devil, and at night would converse with him in his cellar. We had a raven on board that came from this neighbourhood; and from the number of strange pranks it was in the habit of playing, was supposed by the ship’s company not to have been one of this world; and what strengthened this opinion was Macredie giving it out that he had heard the raven speak, and say that he had been the nabob’s coachman, and should resume his office as soon as the ship was paid off, and he had got some recruits for his master. This made him be looked at with an evil eye by the ship’s company; and one evening when the provisions were serving out and several of the people were in the cockpit about the steward’s room, the raven caught hold of the gunner’s mate by the trowsers, croaking and snapping at his legs. He then flew on the shoulder of the corporal of marines, took off his hat and hid it in the tier. ‘I’m damned,’ says old Phillips, the quartermaster, ‘if he has not marked you for his master.’ He had hardly said this when the raven came hopping back and seized upon the cheese belonging to the quartermaster, and walked off with a large piece of it, the other being afraid to follow.

Another of his tricks I was an eye-witness to. Our sergeant of marines had leave to go on shore, and was on the poop showing a half-guinea to the corporal, saying ‘With this bit of gold I shall take a cruise, it will last as long as I like to stay.’ He was holding the half-guinea between his finger and thumb, and asked the raven, who was on the poop, if he would take a trip with him. Ralph, ever on the watch, in an instant snapped the half-guinea out of his hand, and flew up to the main topmast head and remained more than an hour aloft, the sergeant all the time in the greatest anxiety, and some of the fellows saying to him, ‘Now, don’t you believe he’s the devil?’ At last the raven flew down upon the booms and went into the stern sheets of the barge lying there and hid the half-guinea, which the sergeant found, but swore it was not the same that was taken from him, while several called out ‘Sold! Sold!’[66]

I shall now conclude the Edgar after saying a word for Davy Reed, the master. He was what we call a hard officer, as well as a very strange sort of fish, and had the misfortune, like many others, to lose his teeth. I was at dinner in the wardroom when a small parcel was handed in directed for Mr. Reed. ‘What the hell can this be?’ says Davy (who did not like to have sixpence to pay the waterman), ‘and who gave it to you?’ continued he. ‘Sir,’ says the waterman, ‘it was a young lady who sent it off from Common Hard.’ As several tricks had been played with Davy before, he was afraid to open the parcel, and begged of one of the officers at the table to do so for him, but when opened, what was his amazement to find a set of sheep’s teeth for David Reed, Esq., with directions for fixing, and a box of tooth powder that, by the smell, appeared to be a mixture of everything abominable. Poor Davy was in a dreadful rage, and never heard the last of it. The Edgar was paid off in January 1790, and we had a parting dinner at the India Arms, Gosport, and kept it up until twelve that night. With the exception of the half dozen, they were some of the best fellows I ever met with. The Edgar was commissioned immediately after by Captain Anthony James Pye Molloy, and some of the midshipmen rejoined her.

OFFICERS’ NAMES

HON. JOHN LEVESON GOWER, Commodore and then rear-admiral.

Dead [1792]. I have said enough of him.—[_D.N.B._]

JOSEPH PEYTON, Esq., Rear-admiral.

Dead [1804]. An admiral; a tight hand.

CHAS. THOMPSON, Esq., Captain.

Dead. See Boreas.

JOHN YETTS, 1st Lieutenant.

Dead. Out-pension. A good sailor of the old school, in many
respects better than the new.

WILLIAM NOWELL, 2nd Lieutenant.

Dead [1827]. A vice-admiral; gloomy and fiery; but a good officer
and gentleman.—[Marshall, ii. 598.]

RICHARD WELLAND, 3rd Lieutenant.

Dead. Had the out-pension, and thirteen children; proud, but a
good officer.

JOHN IRWIN,[67] 4th Lieutenant.

Dead [1812]. A post captain [1796]. A very good fellow; always
smiling.

WILLIAM BEDFORD, 5th Lieutenant.

Dead [1826]. A vice-admiral; fidgety; he once turned me out of the
gunroom because I said Andrew Macbride, our schoolmaster, was
formerly Dionysius the tyrant, and kept a school at Corinth,
according to the opinion of Pythagoras respecting the
transmigration of souls.—[Marshall, ii. 574.]

JOHN CULVERHOUSE, Mate and then flag lieutenant.

Dead. A clever fellow and good officer; a post captain; drowned at
the Cape.

JOHN STILES, Lieutenant, lent for the cruise.

Dead. See Salisbury.

HARRY DAWE, Lieutenant, lent.

Dead. A commander [1818]; so-so. [Did not die till 1841.]

DAVID REED, Master.

Dead. An odd fish.

[JOHN] ROSKRUGE, Master.

Dead. A very good man, and one that was better acquainted with
rope-yarns and bilge water than with Homer or Virgil. He said a
man’s ideas should go no further than the jib-boom end.

[JAMES] MALCOLM, Surgeon.

Dead. See Panther.

[THOMAS] TROTTER, Surgeon.

Uncertain. Formerly physician of the fleet; a most excellent
fellow with first-rate abilities, an able writer and poet. [Died
1832—_D.N.B._]

THOMAS KEIN, Surgeon; did duty as first assistant.

A very worthy fellow. Dead since writing this.

TITUS LEVY, Purser and then admiral’s secretary.

Dead. Insane before he died.

CHARLES BUCHAN, Purser.

Dead. See Boreas.

JOHN STEVENS, Mate.

Dead. A commander.

[JOHN] WATSON, Mate. Dead. A lieutenant; sickly and as crabbed as the
devil. Cato the Censor never ended a speech without saying
‘Delenda est Carthago,’ and this man never ended his without
saying ‘Damn your whistle.’

GEO. WANGFORD, Mate.

Dead. See Boreas; drank himself to death.

FRANCIS SARGENT, Mate.

Dead. Drank hard; a lieutenant.

EDWARD MOORE, Mate.

Dead. A lieutenant; well known in the navy, and highly respected
by a numerous acquaintance.

GEO. RULE BLUET, Midshipman, and then mate of the hold.

Dead. A lieutenant; a good-natured fellow with good abilities, but
drank hard. I recollect being of a party at Gosport when Bluet
wanted to make love to a young lady, but did not know how to
begin. At last he took out of his pocket a plan of the Edgar’s
hold which he begged her to accept, and hoped she would keep it
for his sake!

PATRICK FLOOD, Midshipman.

Dead. Good abilities, but thoughtless, and regardless of his
character.

CHAS. INGLIS, Midshipman.

Dead [1833]. A post captain; a most able officer.—[Marshall, iv.
699.]

MAURICE BROWN, Midshipman.

Uncertain. A dashing fellow.

TOM EDMONDS, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant; a good fellow, and played the flute
delightfully.

FRANK FEARY, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant; a very quiet fellow, who had taken plenty of
calomel in his time.

ANDREW JAMES THOMPSON, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant; a mad fellow.

ROBERT PHILPOT, Midshipman.

Dead [1826]. A post captain [1800]; obstinate and stiff
in opinion, but quite the gentleman. Called ‘Toby
Philpot.’—[Marshall, iii. 289.]

GEO. JONES, Midshipman.

Dead [1834]. A commander [1798]; a fiery Welshman; called
‘Dog-head.’ He used to visit at Fareham, and Billy Lamb drew a
midshipman in uniform with a dog’s head, which bore a strong
resemblance of Jones, and a directing post near him with—‘To
Fareham,’ written on it.—[Marshall, x. 269.]

WILLIAM LAMB, Midshipman and mate.

Dead. A commander; my old and worthy messmate in two ships; a most
able officer and seaman.

SOLOMON KING, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant; a very worthy fellow.

WILLIAM KING, his brother, Midshipman.

Dead. A commander; a very worthy fellow.

WILLIAM BROWN, Midshipman, and then mate.

A superannuated master attendant; a good sailor; called ‘Billy
Beljer,’ and ‘Hell Sweat Us.’

ROBERT ELLIOT, Midshipman.

A post captain. [Rear-admiral, 1846; died, a vice-admiral,
1854.—O’Byrne.]

JAMES SLADE, Midshipman.

A post captain; wonderfully grand. [Died 1846—O’Byrne.]

WILLIAM WILKINSON, Midshipman.

Dead [1816]. A post captain [1810]; proud without reason.

JAMES SANDERS, Midshipman.

Dead [1834]. A post captain and C.B. Black Sambo, you and I never
could agree; we hated one another most cordially: as a midshipman
you were tyrannical; as a captain, I know nothing of
you.—[Marshall, iv. 635.]

JOHN KIEL, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant. Poor Jack went mad and died.

WILLIAM PRINGLE, first a scribe, and then a midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant out-pension; nicknamed ‘Bull Rothery’ and
‘Ponderous and Huge.’ He got the name of ‘Ponderous and Huge’ from
the following circumstance. When we were storming the poop (as I
have mentioned before), I was looking at John Macredie who had a
boarding-pike for a spear, and repeating the following lines from
the Iliad:

And now he shakes his great paternal spear,
Ponderous and huge, which not a Greek could rear—

when Pringle, who was standing by, asked me who Ponderous and Huge
were, and whether they were Greeks or Trojans.[68]

TITUS ALLARDICE, Midshipman.

Dead [1832]. A commander [1831]; died insane at Haslar.

DAVIS, Mate. Dead. A lieutenant. Poor fellow, was broke by
court martial.

JOHN BULL CONOLLY, Midshipman.

A lieutenant, out-pension; a very good fellow.

ROBERT YETTS, son of the first lieutenant, midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant; broke by court martial. Poor Bob with all his
faults was a worthy, generous fellow.

HENRY FOULARTON, Midshipman.

Dead. Very religious, and remarkably neat in his dress; but at
last drank very hard, and died regretting that a keg of gin (along
side of him) should see him out, which was really the case.

HENRY ALLEN, Midshipman.

This unfortunate man was captain of the Rattler sloop of war in
the West Indies and was hanged at the yardarm by the sentence of a
court martial [April 22, 1797, under the 29th Article of War].

GREGORY GRANT, Midshipman.

A commander [1810]; a very worthy fellow. Died 1839.—[Marshall, x.
403.]

WILLIAM VOSPER, Midshipman.

A lieutenant, Royal Asylum, Greenwich Hospital. A very good fellow
and seaman; we were at three schools together, and also in the
Edgar and Berwick.

RICHARD HEYCOCK, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant. Old Dick was a good sailor, but unfortunately,
as deaf as a doornail.

FRAS. ROSKRUGE, Midshipman.

Lieutenant [of Britannia], killed [at Trafalgar] in battle. A very
worthy fellow; son of the master.

FROST, Midshipman.

Dead. A master; ‘Hard Frost,’ I have mentioned you before.

MILLAR, Midshipman.

Dead. A gunner; as worthy a fellow as ever lived; called ‘Tom
Pepper.’[69]

RICHARD COLE, Midshipman.

Dead. Dicky was an easy, simple fellow.

EMANUEL SILVA, Midshipman.

A magistrate for the county of Surrey; a gentleman; very much
respected.

WM. GRANGER, Midshipman.

A vice-admiral of the blue. [Died 1848.—O’Byrne.]

HUGH DOWNMAN, Midshipman.

A vice-admiral; a very good officer. [Died, admiral,
1858—O’Byrne.]

[JOHN] HOLLINGSWORTH, Midshipman.

Killed in battle[70]; a lieutenant.

JOHN TWISDEN, Midshipman.

A commander; a droll old guardo! [Died 1853.—O’Byrne.]

JOHN MACREDIE, Midshipman.

Dead [1833]. A commander [1827]; a most worthy fellow whom I have
mentioned before.

HUGH COOK, Midshipman.

Dead [1834]. A post captain [1806]; called ‘Pot luck and what
not.’ Billy Lamb gave him this name, because one evening on shore,
when half seas over, he was asking every one in the room to come
and see him and take ‘pot luck and what not.’—[Marshall, v. 160.]

WM. HUGH DOBBIE, Midshipman.

Dead [1830]. A post captain; an excellent character.—[Marshall, v.
136.]

JOHN TRESAHAR, Midshipman.

A commander; my worthy messmate. [Died 1844.—O’Byrne.]

J. S. CARDEN, Midshipman.

A post captain. He commanded the Macedonian when she was captured
by an American frigate of superior force. [Died, a retired
rear-admiral, 1858—O’Byrne.]

EDWARD BRACE, Midshipman.

A rear-admiral and K.C.B. [Died, a vice-admiral, in
1843.—Marshall, iii. 253.]

J. A. GARDNER, Midshipman.

A commander.

DAVID SPENCE 1st, Midshipman, lent.

Dead. A lieutenant; worthy fellow.

DAVID SPENCE 2nd, Midshipman, lent.

Dead. A master; worthy fellow.

ROBERT CROSBIE, Midshipman, lent.

Dead from drink; a lieutenant not worth his salt.

JAMES IRWIN, Midshipman, lent.

Dead. A commander; much respected.

ANDREW MACBRIDE, Schoolmaster.

Dead. Splendid abilities.

CROMBEY, Assistant Surgeon.

Dead. A surgeon; a man of prodigious strength.

JOHN LIGGATT, Assistant Surgeon.

Dead. A surgeon. Poor Jack lost his leg in action.

GEO. GORDON, Assistant Surgeon.

Dead. George was not very orthodox.

DUNCAN CAMPBELL, Assistant Surgeon.

Uncertain. Much the gentleman.

MARSH, Assistant Surgeon.

Uncertain. Drank like a fish.

LAUCHLIN MACLEAN, Clerk.

Dead. A paymaster at Greenwich Hospital.

JOHN SCOTT, Clerk.

Killed in battle [at Trafalgar]. Lord Nelson’s secretary.

GARDNER, wrote in the office.

Dead. A very good little fellow; no relation of mine.

GEO. GRAY, Gunner.

Dead. Much respected.

JOHNNY BONE, Boatswain.

Dead, from drink; Cap-a-bar.

WATSON, Boatswain.

Uncertain. Broke by court martial. Said to have been boatswain
with the notorious John Paul Jones when he took Sir Richard
Pearson and my old captain (Piercy) in the American War.

DOUGLAS, Carpenter.

Dead. Builder at Antigua; much respected.

BARFLEUR, 98

When the Edgar was paid off, Commissioner Martin[71] of the dockyard at Portsmouth, recommended me to the Barfleur, Vice-Admiral Roddam (red at the fore) port admiral, and Robert Calder, Esq., captain. I had not been long on board when Captain Calder took it into his head to recommend several of us to the Solebay, 32, fitting at Spithead for the West Indies, and I was one of the number. This did not suit my inclination, and I requested my mother to make the circumstance known to the commissioner, who promised her that I should not be sent out against my will. I waited with great anxiety the result, and never shall I forget the manner Captain Calder addressed me the moment he came on board. ‘Your mother is a fool, sir; you shall not stay in my ship; take your hat off, sir’ (for we were always obliged to stand with our hats off while speaking to him and I was rather slack in doffing mine); ‘I will give you one month to provide yourself with another ship, you are disgraced here;’ and then turning on his heel went into his cabin. With rage and indignation at such an unwarrantable attack, I sent in to say I would be glad to speak to him if he was at leisure. This he immediately granted, and I was told after by Jefferys, the clerk, who was in the cabin, that he thought I had made up my mind to go, but he was mistaken. I told him I came to return him thanks for his kindness in allowing me to remain in his ship for a month until I could provide myself with another, but if he pleased I would rather have my discharge immediately. He looked at me for some time before he made an answer; at last he roared out in fury, ‘You shall not go at all, sir; and mind what you are about.’ I answered that I always did mind what I was about. This increased his rage, and turning to the first lieutenant (Dolling), who had just come into the cabin, ‘That’s a troublesome chap, sir, take care of him.’ Now it happened that I had leave to go on shore before Captain C. came on board and only waited till I saw him, and was going into the boat, when Lieutenant Dolling came waddling up to me with the intelligence that I was under arrest, and to consider myself a prisoner at large; and so I was for upwards of ten weeks, and the devil thank Bobby Calder for his kindness.

The Spanish armament taking place, we were ordered to Spithead, and hoisted the flag (blue at the main) of the Honourable Samuel Barrington, Sir John Jervis (rear-admiral of the blue) captain of the fleet, and Captain Calder in command of the ship. Sailed for Torbay, and took command of the fleet assembled there, until the arrival of Lord Howe, which took place soon after, as admiral of the fleet, the union jack being hoisted on board the Queen Charlotte, 110.[72] His Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland, admiral of the white, attended by Prince William Henry, who commanded the Valiant, 74, came on board to visit Admiral Barrington, who had formerly sailed with the duke. Admiral Barrington having shifted his flag to the Royal George, 110, we hoisted that of Rear-Admiral Sir John Jervis, K.B., and sailed to the westward with the grand fleet, and found the old Barfleur an excellent sea boat. After cruising several weeks the fleet returned, and when off Plymouth we struck the flag of Sir John Jervis, and proceeded to the Downs and hoisted the flag (blue at the fore) of Vice-Admiral Elliot, and sailed with thirteen sail of the line for Spithead, where we found Lord Howe with the remainder of the fleet, Captain Calder having been appointed to the Stately, 64. Captain Robert Carthew Reynolds took command of the Barfleur as flag captain. The chief part of the midshipmen being removed to the Stately, Captain Calder sent for me and introduced me to Captain Reynolds, and spoke to him in the highest terms of my conduct, and among other things said I was particularly active in going aloft, and if I wished to leave the Barfleur he would keep a vacancy open on his books; but that the Barfleur being a flagship and my pay better, he thought it the most eligible of the two to remain. This was a civil way of parting to outward appearance friends.

The Spanish business being settled we remained at Spithead but struck our flag. Soon after a mutiny broke out in the ship, which was soon put a stop to, and the crews of the ships at Spithead (as many as liked) paid off. The Russian armament commencing, Lord Hood hoisted his flag on board the Victory, 100, and took command of the fleet, consisting of thirty-six sail of the line moored in two lines abreast, the frigates between, which had a most beautiful appearance, and thousands from all parts of the country came to gaze, and went back as wise as ever. Rear-Admiral Jonathan Faulknor[73] (red at the mizen) having hoisted his flag on board of us, that excellent officer Captain Reynolds left the ship and was succeeded by Captain John Bourmaster, one of the best men that ever lived. We remained a considerable time at Spithead until the business was settled, and then went into harbour to be paid off.

I shall now relate as well as I remember a few circumstances that took place in the Barfleur during the time I belonged to her. When we had the command in Torbay, before the arrival of Lord Howe, we exercised great guns and small arms every day, with loosing and furling sails, and it was remarked by the fleet that they never looked at the Barfleur without seeing the men crawling up the rigging ready for some manœuvre and keeping them constantly on the alert. I have absolutely been midshipman in the foretop when the sail has been loosed and furled nineteen times; and long Lloyd (one of our lieutenants) calling out from the gratings on the bowsprit, ‘Mr. Gardner, will you have your hammock sent up to you?’—a common expression in the navy. I could not help answering, ‘I’ll thank you, sir, for I’m damnation tired.’ He was a good fellow and only laughed.

Our ship’s company were never surpassed. We had the pickings of the East India men, and our waisters could take helm and lead, and certainly we could have beaten with ease any two ships of a foreign power of our rate, and a braver officer never stepped between stem and stern than Bobby Calder. I had great reason to dislike him, but I will do him justice as well as my humble abilities will allow. An error in judgment is what every man is liable to. Even Napoleon, the greatest man the world ever produced, was guilty of three great errors: the first in not entirely crushing the Russian army when he had it in his power after defeating the Emperor Alexander at Austerlitz; the second in not reinstating the Poles; and the third in not marrying a Frenchwoman after his divorce from Josephine. Another great general also made a few blunders; and his retreat from a certain citadel was, I have been told, anything but superior to that of the ten thousand under Xenophon.[74] But to return. Sir Robert Calder was found guilty of an error in judgment by the sentence of a court martial; but no man can deny that he was a brave and meritorious officer, possessing the first-rate[75] abilities of a British admiral.

To some the pow’rs of bloody war belong,
To some, sweet music and the charm of song;
To few, and wondrous few, has Jove assigned
A wise, extensive, all considering mind.

The newspapers at the time were teeming with abuse; but the braying of those asses soon sunk, and had no other effect than to shew the malignity of their leading articles. One of the blackguard papers was particularly vindictive. It was edited

by wicked Daniel,
Who snaps like a cur, and fawns like a spaniel.

From the number of flag officers and captains that were in the Barfleur, we had so many of their followers of every description that it is difficult to remember the whole, and we had six or seven different first lieutenants. However, I shall give as correct a list as possible, but not exactly in rotation. But first I must relate a few anecdotes; and with heart-felt respect for your memory, come forward my old friend Billy Culmer. This gentleman was one of the mates and is or was so well known in the navy that it would be superfluous to say anything respecting him, but for a few anecdotes not generally known which may be interesting.[76]

Billy in person was about five feet eight or nine, and stooped; hard features marked with the smallpox; blind in an eye, and a wen nearly the size of an egg under his cheek bone. His dress on a Sunday was a mate’s uniform coat, with brown velvet waistcoat and breeches; boots with black tops; a gold-laced hat, and a large hanger by his side like the sword of John-a-Gaunt. He was proud of being the oldest midshipman in the navy (for he had been in that capacity with Lord Hood since 1757[77]), and looked upon young captains and lieutenants with contempt. Being on shore at Gosport on a Sunday in the above costume, he tried to get into a tavern when the people were at church, and was thundering at the door to no purpose, when the late Captain N. H. Eastwood of the Royal Navy happened to be passing at the time in plain clothes, made some observations on his conduct, and said, ‘Mr. Culmer, you are a disgrace to the service.’ Billy at this jumped off the steps, and with his usual oath ‘Damn my two eyes,’—though he had but one—‘but I’ll slit your gullet, you wa wa——,’ and with two or three desperate efforts to draw his sword, he at last succeeded, like Hudibras, in getting it out, and then gave chase to Eastwood, whose lean figure, moving like a ghost, had got the start and was fortunate enough to get into his own house just as Billy came up puffing and blowing and bellowing out, ‘Stop that lanky son of a —— till I make a razee of him.’

In the American War Billy belonged to the Buffalo, 60. I am not certain that he was on board at the time the Dogger Bank action was fought; however, he used to celebrate the praises of his old ship, which bore a distinguished part in that well-fought battle. The Dutch fleet commanded by Admiral Zoutman had a convoy under charge, when our fleet under Vice-Admiral Hyde Parker fell in with them on the Dogger Bank and bore down immediately to give battle. The Dutch admiral formed his line to windward of his convoy, and waited for our fleet, and to his honour be it said that he never fired a gun until our admiral had formed his line within pistol shot, when up went the colours of both nations and then the action began. After several hours’ desperate fighting the Dutch bore away with their convoy for the Texel, and we were so crippled that it was impossible to follow them.

Billy would upon all occasions when sea fights were spoken of sing the following song in honour of his old ship. It was made by a seaman of the Princess Amelia.

’Twas on the fifth of August by dawning of the day,
We spied some lofty sail, my boys, who to leeward of us lay;
They proved to be Dutchmen, with eight sail neat and fine,
We soon bore down upon them, and then we formed the line.

Bold Admiral Hyde Parker commanded us that day,
Who in the noble Fortitude to the windward of us lay;
To engage the Dutchmen closely the signal then he made,
And at his fore topgallant mast the bloody flag displayed.

And when our ships they did engage with seven sail neat and fine,
The Buffalo being one of them, her valour it did shine;
For she engaged six glasses, her shot did on them play,
Though she had three upon her she made them bear away.

There were the noble Berwick, Preston and Dolphin too,
Likewise the Bienfaisant, my boys, who made the Dutch to rue;
The old Princess Amelia was not backward on that day,
She lost her valiant captain all in the bloody fray.

Then our ship being so disabled and our rigging shot away,
And twenty of our brave fellows killed in the bloody fray;
And sixty-four were wounded, a dreadful sight to see,
But yet the rest were willing to engage the enemy, &c.

Billy was once singing the above ditty with a voice as melodious as that of the raven, when old Bob Perkins (a droll old guardo midshipman) began another that annoyed him sadly; but taking great care to be in a place where Billy could not easily get at him, says he, ‘Mr. Culmer, you never were a midshipman before you joined the Barfleur, and it’s well authenticated that you were cook of the celebrated Huffey so well known in days of yore.’ He then began singing the following sonnet:—

Billy the cook got drunk,
Fell down the fore ladder,
And broke his gin bladder,
Then lived upon swipes and salt junk.

Billy the cook got drunk,
Fell into a sty,
And knocked out his eye,
Then into the sick bay he slunk.

As [Billy] had the meanest opinion of any one that would lay by for sickness, the last line of the above threw him into such a rage that Perkins, not finding his situation tenable, was obliged to make a hasty retreat; but not before

he got a switch
As quick as lightning on the breech,

which hastened his way down the cockpit ladder. [Billy] was once sitting in the gunroom cleaning a pair of huge yellow buckles, when the same Perkins chalked on a board in large letters, ‘To be seen alive—The old blind sea monster, cleaning buckles as large as the main hatchway.’ The moment he got sight of the inscription, [Billy] caught hold of a cutlass from the stand and cleared the gunroom in an instant, and had very near given it to Perkins, whom he suspected. He had a custom, when half seas over, of sounding a horn like a huntsman and calling the hounds, and used to swear he would be in at the death.

When he went to pass for lieutenant, one of the midshipmen and Marr the boatswain went up to London with him. They found it no easy matter to keep him in order, and he once swore to have them taken up as runaway soldiers. When he went to the navy board to undergo his examination he asked the commissioners the meaning of the word ‘azimuth’ and told them he could never find any wa wa that knew a word about it. Some of the board had been shipmates with him and were well acquainted with his ways; and when putting him right when answering a question, he would say, ‘Go on, go on, my boy, that’s the way; you are very right,’ as if he was passing them; and when they told him they had no more questions to ask, he said he was glad of it and would go back to his ship like a lark.

One night soon after his return, when he had the first watch, some of the midshipmen reefed his blankets—this is done by making the ends fast and forming by numerous turns the blanket into the shape of a ring very difficult to undo. As soon as he was relieved he went to his hammock and groping about (for he never would take a light into the tier), he was heard to mutter, ‘What the hell have they done with the ends?’ and at last roared out, ‘A horse’s collar, by God.’ After several fruitless attempts to shake the reef out, he went upon deck and brought down the ship’s corporal and quartermaster with a light, and ordered them to clear his blankets; but they were as unable as himself, while the midshipmen in the tier were convulsed with laughter, and Billy, foaming with rage, drove away the corporal and quartermaster, calling them lubberly wa wa ——s. At this time a cry was heard from a remote part of the tier, ‘Lay out, you lubberly rascal, and shake the reef out.’ At this Billy lost all patience, and after damning his two eyes he unshipped the orlop gratings and got some billets of wood out of the hold, and in less than a minute the tier was cleared. Soon after some of the watch came down and put his bedding to rights and all was quiet. The same compliment that Cicero paid to Cæsar may also be paid to Billy, “that he remembered everything but an injury.” The next morning he thought nothing of the matter.

Speaking about the Roman history respecting the battle of Actium between Augustus and Antony, he said he was in the battle and remembered all about it. The fact was he mistook the name and thought it was some place where he had been in the American war. He never heard the last of this, and when speaking of any battle where he had been present, was always asked if it took place thirty years before Christ. Captain Calder once sent for him to go in the launch for beer to Weevil.[78] ‘Go back,’ says he to the quartermaster, ‘and tell Captain C. that Mr. Wood’ (meaning Lord Hood, who he never called by his right name) ‘never sent me away at seven bells and I shan’t go now without my dinner. As soon as I have got that I will go like a lark—damn my two eyes.’ Of course this was not told the captain.

While we had Admiral Roddam’s flag in the harbour, a Dutch ship of the line anchored at Spithead and used to fire the morning and evening gun, without our taking notice of the circumstance. However, Bobby Calder soon found it out and came on board in a terrible rage, and gave the commanding officer (Prowse) a severe lecture, and told us all to prepare for a court martial for neglect in not reporting the transaction; at the same time sending a message to the Dutchman that if he persisted in such conduct a ship of the line would be sent alongside of him. This the Dutchman did not relish and took himself off as quick as possible.

Captain Calder was a man that had the service at heart and was a very strict disciplinarian. We dared not appear on deck without our full uniform, and a round hat was never allowed; our side arms always on the quarter deck ready for duty, and when exercising sails the midshipmen in the tops were to be in full dress. I remember when the signal was made for all lieutenants while lying in Torbay, that several came on board not exactly in uniform. He, without hearing a word they had to say, turned them out of the ship with a severe reprimand—old Lieutenant Noah Webb (with his crossjack brace[79] eye), who commanded a cutter at the head of them; and when the late Sir Joseph Yorke (then a lieutenant) came on board at Spithead with strings in his shoes, Captain Calder came running out of his cabin and desired him to quit the ship immediately; and though Sir Joseph told him he was not on duty, it was all to no purpose; he kept following him to the gangway saying, ‘My hat’s off, sir; you must go out of the ship,’ which the other was obliged to do in high dudgeon.

In working the ship no one was allowed to speak but himself, and I have seen the Barfleur brought to an anchor and the sails furled like magic, without a voice being heard except his own.[80]

Sedate and silent move the numerous bands;
No sound, no whisper but their chiefs commands;
These only heard, with awe the rest obey,
As if some god had snatched their voice away.—_Iliad._

No ship in the navy was in such high order. The midshipmen’s berths were fitted up in great style (the beginning of luxury which the war soon after put a stop to), with rules and regulations. If a candle was taken off the table a fine of sixpence must be paid; and a shilling, if a hat was hung up in the berth or left on the chairs. This was all very well for the dandy aristocracy, but did not suit some of us that formerly belonged to the old Edgar; and Dick Heycock was the first to kick, and refused to abide by the regulations laid down by a proud and usurping few; and we carried our point, and things went on much better when the petty tyranny was abolished. Captain Calder would always bring the nobility that visited the ship to see the midshipmen’s berths, and used to say: ‘This is the place where all the admirals and captains in the service are tried every day, and where no one escapes being hauled over the coals.’

No man could be more attentive at his table, and he would particularly address himself to the midshipmen, and even ask their opinion upon different subjects, to give them confidence. Mrs. Calder was very fond of boat-sailing, and we had a large double banked cutter in which she would go to Spithead when blowing very fresh, and carrying sail as if in chase until the boat’s gunwale was under, so that everyone thought she was mad; and very few liked the trip except in fine weather, as she would always feel offended if any attempt was made to take in sail.

Among the many first lieutenants, we had one that was very pedantic. I shall not mention his name, but his nickname was Soap-Suds. The signal being made for all midshipmen, the order[81] was that a preparative flag would be hoisted before any manœuvre began, but when hauled down it was immediately to take place. Now not content with what was written in the order book, he addressed the midshipmen as follows: ‘The idea strikes me thus, that when the preparative is hauled down, the evo-lu-ti-on will most certainly commence, and this pennant is your signal.’

We had another strange first lieutenant—this was Billy Chantrell, well known in the service. In giving his orders at night he used to say, ‘Call me at six, and don’t come bothering me about blowing and raining and all that damned nonsense.’ I was with him in three ships and never met with so droll and strange a fellow. In passing Fairlight, near Hastings, on our way from the Downs to Spithead, Chantrell, pointing out to me the cliff near the church on Fairlight Down, said, ‘Jemmy, how would you like to be perched up there in the winter?’ Little did he imagine that in some years after, when the war broke out and signal stations were erected along the coast, he should be the first officer appointed to this very spot, and I, the last; which was the fact.

We led a very lazy life at Spithead for several months, and it was expected we should strike upon our beef bones, as we never shifted our berth. We had nothing to do but row guard and go for fresh beef. Captain Bourmaster lived at Tichfield, and if anything particular happened a boat was sent with a midshipman to Hellhead or near it with the orders. On one occasion Mr. S——s, a midshipman, was dispatched in the cutter and took some of the boat’s crew with him to Tichfield. On their return, passing by a farmyard, a flock of ducks and geese began to quack and hiss at them. The midshipman considered this as a declaration of war, and ordered his party to prepare for battle and to engage close, which was instantly obeyed, and after a short contest the enemy took to flight and several of the ducks were captured. Now the midshipman had read a little of British history, and particularly remembered that part where Richard the First in Palestine, and Henry the Fifth at Agincourt, put their prisoners to death. He immediately followed their example, and ordered the ducks to be slaughtered. Now the difference between those great men was this, that Richard and Henry buried their prisoners or got somebody else to do it, but the midshipman carried his off; and seeing in an orchard near the farmyard a number of fruit trees heavily laden, he thought it just that those who began the war should pay the expenses, which was no new thing in modern warfare, and gave orders to his party to fill their jackets with pears and apples, observing that it would ease the trees of their burthen and the boughs would be in less danger of breaking down. Now all this was very fair; and peace being restored, the midshipman addressed the farmer (who had come up with the reserve, but too late to assist the main body after their defeat): ‘I say, old Hodge, I wish you joy to see your nose and chin come together after being separated for so many years. But harkee, old chap, if I should come this way again, and your feather-bed sons of —— begin their capers, I’m damned if I don’t stop the grog of every mother’s son belonging to you.’ So saying, he returned with his dead prisoners, and the war was considered at an end. But the farmer, being bloody-minded, was of a different opinion, and breathing revenge, went and made his report to Captain Bourmaster. The captain, after coolly and deliberately weighing and investigating the transaction, came to the following conclusion: That Mr. S——s and his party, instead of going direct to their boat, did go this way and that way, and every way but the right way; and on a certain day, and in a certain lane, did kill, or did slay, or did murder or put to death several ducks, and did keep, and did hold, and did maintain the same, without any right law or title; and for such conduct Mr. S——s was sentenced to be dismissed from the Barfleur, and his party to have slops served out to them at the gangway.[82] The midshipman thought this extremely hard, and on leaving observed that had the case been tried before a jury he was sure they would have brought in a verdict of justifiable duckicide.

A curious bet took place between our chaplain and one of the officers. The wager was that the latter would bring a man who would eat eight penny rolls and drink a gallon of beer before the parson could walk a mile. Now the reverend gentleman was a great pedestrian, and could walk a mile in less than a quarter of an hour. The ground being chosen, one began to eat and the other to walk at the same moment, a gentleman being placed at each end with watches that corresponded to a second, when the parson to his utter amazement, after he had walked three-quarters of his mile, met the other, who had with ease finished his rolls and beer, and was unwilling that his reverence should have the trouble of walking the whole mile and therefore came to meet him. The reverend gentleman, like most clergymen, played well at whist, and once sitting at his favourite game, our signal was made, and the order was for the chaplain to attend a man that was to be hanged next morning. This broke up the game, when one of the officers observed: ‘Doctor, you have lost the odd trick; but never mind, the fellow you are going to attend has got nothing by honours.’

OFFICERS’ NAMES

[ROBERT] RODDAM, Vice-Admiral, Port Admiral.

Dead [1808]. An admiral. Had his flag on board the old
Conquistador, 60, in the American war, as port admiral at the
Nore, at the time Mr. Fegan [_post_, p. 214] was sent
onboard.—[_D.N.B._]

HON. SAMUEL BARRINGTON, Admiral of the blue.

Dead [1800]. A great officer. See his masterly manœuvre in the
West Indies.—[_D.N.B._]

[JOHN] ELLIOT, Vice-Admiral.

Dead [1808]. This first-rate officer captured after a severe
action the French squadron off the Irish coast commanded by
Thurot, who fell in the contest. He also commanded the Edgar, 74,
in the action when Don Langara was defeated and taken by Admiral
Rodney. He commanded at Newfoundland as Governor of that island; a
great astronomer and an able sailor.—[_D.N.B._]

SIR JOHN JERVIS, K.B., Rear-Admiral.

Dead [1823]. Earl St. Vincent, admiral of the fleet; needs no
comment here.—[_D.N.B._]

JONATHAN FAULKNOR, Senr., Rear-Admiral.

Dead [1795]. A most able officer who had seen a great deal of
service, and no man understood it better.

ROBERT CALDER, Esq., Captain.

Dead [1818]. An admiral, a baronet, and K.C.B. I have already
spoken of him.—[_D.N.B._]

ROBERT CARTHEW REYNOLDS, Captain.

Dead [1811]. A rear-admiral; unfortunately lost on the coast of
Denmark, in the St. George, 98; a brave and meritorious officer.
[_D.N.B._]

JOHN BOURMASTER, Esq., Captain.

Dead [1807]. A vice-admiral; one of the best men that ever did
honour to the British navy. [Admiral.]

JOHN DOLLING [_or_ DOLING], 1st Lieutenant.

Dead [1795]. A post captain with Admiral Rainier in the East
Indies.

PADDY LEE, 2nd and then 1st Lieutenant.

Dead. A commander; a strange, droll hand.

[JOHN] MATHEWS, 3rd Lieutenant.

Dead [1798]. A post captain [1793]; a first-rate seaman.

BENJAMIN HALLOWELL [afterwards CAREW], 4th Lieutenant.

Dead [1834]. An admiral and G.C.B.; a brave and skilful
officer.—[_D.N.B._]

ROBERT SAVAGE DANIEL, 5th Lieutenant.

Killed on board the Bellerophon, 74, at the battle of the Nile; a
loss to the service.

WM. PROWSE, 2nd and then 1st Lieutenant.

Dead [1826]. A rear-admiral [1821], C.B.; a worthy man.

ROSS, Lieutenant; I forget how he stood.

Dead. A satirical gentleman and would be thought a poet because he
wrote a play that was damned, and some poems in doggerel rhymes of
scurrilous merit.

JAMES NICHOLL MORRIS, 1st Lieutenant.

Dead [1830]. A vice-admiral, K.C.B.; a very brave and meritorious
officer. He commanded the Colossus, 74, at Trafalgar.—[_D.N.B._]

GEO. GREY, 2nd Lieutenant.

Dead [1828]. Hon. Sir Geo. Grey, Bart. [1814], K.C.B.; late
commissioner at Portsmouth yard.

WM. CHANTRELL, 2nd, 3rd, and 1st Lieutenant.

Dead. A very droll and strange fellow.

[ROBERT] LLOYD, Lieutenant.

I believe a vice-admiral of the blue [1837. Died, vice-admiral of
the white, 1846.—O’Byrne].

RICHARD SIMMONDS, Lieutenant.

Dead. Was an agent of transports and lieutenant at Haslar
Hospital. Nicknamed Gentleman Jack, because he came to see us in
our berth in the cockpit, and said he was the gentleman below, but
the officer on deck.

JAMES CARPENTER, Lieutenant.

Vice-admiral of the red; since promoted to be admiral of the blue
[Jan. 10, 1837. Died, admiral of the white, 1845.—O’Byrne.]

DANIEL DOBREE, Lieutenant.

Dead. A post captain [1802]. See Blonde.

[THOMAS] BOWEN, Lieutenant.

Uncertain. I believe a post captain [1798]; fiery Welshman.
[Griffith Bowen, his servant. Died 1809.]

ANDREW BRACEY TAYLOR, Lieutenant.

Dead. A good officer.

[WILLIAM] ELLIOT, 1st Lieutenant.

Dead. A commander. See Salisbury.

PHILIP CHARLES DURHAM, 2nd Lieutenant.

Admiral of the white, G.C.B.; port admiral at Portsmouth. [Died
1845.—_D.N.B._]

NICHOLAS KEMP, Lieutenant.

Dead. A commander [1797]; a most worthy fellow.

JACKSON DOWSING, Lieutenant.

Dead. All jaw and singing from morn till night.

[EDWARD] MARSH, Lieutenant.

Dead [1813]. A post captain [1797]; steady and quiet.

IRWIN, Lieutenant.

Dead. A very funny officer.

NATHANIEL PORTLOCK, Lieutenant.