Chapter V: Part 5

Dead [1817]. A post captain; went a voyage round the world; an
able navigator.—[_D.N.B._]

MACKEY, Lieutenant.

Dead. A commander; went a voyage round the world; came safe home;
drunk grog and died.

CHARLES MAURICE STOCKER, 1st Lieutenant.

Killed by the wind of a shot on board the Sans Pareil, 84, in Lord
Bridport’s action.

JOHN RICHARDS, Lieutenant.

Dead [1830, aged 70]. A post captain [1809]. This man belonged to
the Boreas at the time my father was on board; he was then before
the mast. When Captain Thompson was appointed to the Alcide, 74,
he took Richards with him in a low capacity, and afterwards put
him on the quarter deck; when his time was served he got made a
lieutenant. He was a good sailor, but proud, insolent, and vulgar
in his language; full of strange sayings and low wit, and
overbearing to those of inferior rank. Lieutenant Daniels once
told him to go aboard the Alcide again to his former station. He
felt the rebuke severely.—[Marshall, vi. 9.]

[THOMAS] IRELAND, 2nd Lieutenant.

Killed in battle on June 1, 1794.

SAMUEL MOTTLEY, Lieutenant.

A post captain [1802]. I never agreed with him. Since made a
retired rear-admiral. [Died, 1841.—Marshall, iv. 684.]

NORBORNE THOMPSON, Lieutenant.

A rear-admiral. See Salisbury.

CHARLES CARTER, Lieutenant.

A post captain; since promoted to be a retired rear-admiral.
[Died, a vice-admiral, 1848.—O’Byrne.]

BALDWIN, Captain of Marines.

Dead. Insane from grog.

NINIAN JEFFREYS, Master.

A quiet, good man.

[WILLIAM] MORGAN, Chaplain.

Uncertain. A very worthy gentleman.

[JAMES] KIRK, Surgeon.

Dead. Quiet and inoffensive.

[GEORGE] PURVIS, Admiral’s Secretary.

Dead.

[JOHN] DELAFONS, Purser.

Dead.

ROBERT BUSTARD, Mate.

Dead. A lieutenant; a most excellent fellow.

BILLY CULMER, Mate.

Dead. A lieutenant; everyone has heard of Billy.

JAMES ROGERS, Midshipman and mate.

A commander [1806]; since a retired captain.

JOHN TALBOT, Signal midshipman.

Hon. Sir John Talbot, K.C.B.; a vice-admiral of the red. [Died,
admiral and G.C.B., 1851.—O’Byrne.]

[RICHARD TURNER] HANCOCK, Signal midshipman.

A post captain. [Died, a rear-admiral, 1846.—O’Byrne.]

[RICHARD] BOWEN, Signal midshipman.

A brave and able officer; he was captain of the Terpsichore, and
was killed at the attack at Teneriffe when Nelson lost his arm.

LORD AMELIUS BEAUCLERK, Midshipman.

Admiral of the white, G.C.B., G.C.H.; chief naval aide-de-camp to
the king. See Salisbury.

RODDAM, Midshipman.

Uncertain. A Hun; a Goth; and a Vandal.

GALTON, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant; a good sailor.

ROBERT PERKINS, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant; a droll old guardo midshipman.

[STEPHEN] SKINNER, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant; a smart officer.

TATHAM, Midshipman.

Uncertain. A lieutenant, but unfortunately broke by court martial;
a droll, good fellow.

HENRY RICHARDSON, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant; a crabbed old fellow called Long-Belly.

PITT BURNABY GREENE, Midshipman.

A post captain; a very good officer. Since dead [1837.—Marshall,
vi. 335].

CHARLES OTTER, Midshipman.

Dead [1831]. A post captain. He commanded the Proserpine, 32,
when she was captured by some French frigates in the
Mediterranean.—[Marshall, iv. 553.]

JONATHAN CHRISTIAN, Midshipman.

Dead. A commander. One of the few in the service that I disagreed
with. I found him waspish, snappish, and disagreeable.—[Marshall,
xi. 12.]

DANIEL KIRK, Son of the surgeon; midshipman.

Dead. Unfortunate from being a dupe to women of the town. [Borne
as his father’s servant, then as A.B., then as midshipman.]

JOHN HINTON, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant; crabbed as the devil.

[THOMAS] GODDARD, Midshipman.

Dead. I believe was a lieutenant and severely wounded at the
evacuation of Toulon.—[James, i. 87.]

FRANCIS JOHN NOTT, Midshipman.

A post captain; out-pension, Greenwich Hospital. Dead
[1840.—Marshall, vi. 236].

THOMAS H. TIDY, Midshipman.

Dead. A commander. Poor Tom.

Hon. DUNBAR DOUGLAS, Midshipman.

Dead. A commander; a glorious fellow. A follower of Earl St.
Vincent. When a midshipman with him in the Foudroyant, 84, he was
stationed in the foretop, and having hold of the main-top bowline
by accident when the ship was going about, he was hauled out of
the top and pitched into the main rigging without receiving the
smallest injury, having the presence of mind to hold fast by the
slack of the bowline, and by that means saved his life. This I
heard related at Lord St. Vincent’s table. Her mainsail was not
set at the time.

[JOHN] W. T. DIXON, Midshipman.

Dead. He commanded the Apollo, 36, when that ship was
unfortunately lost on the coast of Portugal with several of her
convoy, and was drowned. He was brother to Admiral Sir Manley
Dixon.

THOS. BYAM MARTIN, Midshipman.

Admiral of the white, G.C.B. [Admiral of the fleet; died 1854.
_N.R.S._, vols. xxiv., xii., xix.]

JOHN HARVEY, Midshipman.

Admiral of the blue, K.C.B.; since dead [1837.—_D.N.B._]

JACK EATON, Mate.

Dead. My worthy and lamented old messmate; a first-rate seaman. He
commanded the Marlborough, 74, in 1797, and in a fit of insanity
killed himself at the admiralty.

FRANCIS TEMPLE, Midshipman.

A post captain; since made a retired rear-admiral [1837 Died
admiral, 1863.—O’Byrne].

AUGUSTUS BRINE, Midshipman.

A post captain; since made a retired rear-admiral. [Died 1840.]

P. BROWNE, Midshipman.

A post captain. [Died 1842.—Marshall, vi. 95.]

WM. BUSH, Midshipman.

A commander.

RICHARD SIMMONDS, Midshipman.

Dead. He was made a commander, but broke by court martial, and
some years after put on the list as lieutenant. He fought well,
and that was all.

JOHN BRUCE, Midshipman.

Dead. A commander.

JAMES ROSS, Midshipman with one arm.

Dead [1810]. A post captain; son of Admiral Sir John Lockhart
Ross.

[JOHN] BULLER, Midshipman.

Uncertain.

JOHN KEY, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant. See Brunswick.

CHAS. INGLIS } Old Edgars. See Edgar.
JAS. SANDERS } „
JOHN BELL CONOLLY } „
SOL. KING } „
EDWARD MOORE } „
WM. LAMB } „
JOHN MACREDIE } „
RICHARD HEYCOCK } „
GEO. JONES } „
EMANUEL SILVA } „
J. A. GARDNER } „

JEMMY JOHNSTONE, Midshipman.

Dead [1823]. A post captain [1806]; a rigid disciplinarian, who
drank like the devil.

CHAS. GRANT, Midshipman.

Dead [1825]. Commodore at the Cape of Good Hope; C.B.; an
excellent officer.—[Marshall, iii. 300.]

WILLIAM DURBAN, Midshipman.

A post captain, LL.D.; a distinguished officer with first-rate
abilities; since promoted to be rear-admiral of the blue. Dead
[1837.—Marshall, iv. 845].

JAS. DALGLEISH, Mate.

A commander; a good old sailor. [Died, 1846.—Marshall, xi. 135.]

JACKSON, Midshipman.

Uncertain. A good-natured old squinting fellow.

MORTON.

Dead. A lieutenant, called ‘Red Muzzle’; said to have killed
himself.

GEO. CLARK, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant. When we had pudding for dinner, if any was
left and put by for next day, he used to call us up in the night
to have a blow out with the remainder. This was called
‘puddening[83] the flats.’

[WILLIAM] LAUNDER, Midshipman.

A most worthy fellow; a lieutenant, killed on board the
Bellerophon at the battle of the Nile.

CHAS. CAME, Midshipman.

Dead. A commander.

LAURIE, Midshipman.

A lieutenant; murdered at St. John’s, Newfoundland.

[ROBERT] SPICER, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant.

CHATTERTON, Midshipman.

Uncertain. All jaw and drink.

JOHN DELAFONS, Midshipman; son of the purser.

First lieutenant of Bellona at Copenhagen [1801. Died, commander,
1805].

[THOMAS] DELAFONS, Midshipman; son of the purser.

Commander. [Died 1848. Borne as purser’s servant, afterwards
A.B.—Marshall, xi. 153.]

WM. ARCHBOLD, Midshipman.

A commander. Crab-apple.

PHILIP ANSTRUTHER, Midshipman.

Dead. A commander.

CHAS. ANSTRUTHER, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant.

RICHARD CURRY, Midshipman.

The senior post captain on the list; since promoted to be
rear-admiral of the red [1837]. C.B. [1831. Died, admiral of the
blue, 1856.—O’Byrne.]

[GEORGE] JOHNSTONE, Midshipman.

A lieutenant, murdered in Five Bell Lane, near Deptford.

[JOHN] O’CONNOR, Midshipman.

Uncertain. I hated him.

JOHN MCDONALD, Mate.

A commander; a very smart officer. [Died 1845.—O’Byrne.]

CHAS. BENNET, Midshipman.

A commander; since a retired captain. [Died 1843.—Marshall, x.
411.]

JOHN CHEST, Midshipman.

Uncertain. When he joined the ship he had a very large chest, and
had not been on board above an hour when some fellow painted on
the lid in large white letters, ‘JOHN CHEST HIS BOX.’

HOWELL POWELL, 1st Assistant Surgeon.

Poor Powell was surgeon of the Babet [1801], when that ship
foundered with all hands. He was one of the best fellows I ever
met with.

JACKY MARR, Boatswain.

Dead. Jacky was as good a seaman as any in the navy, but too
severe. He was made boatswain of the sheer hulk and then promoted
to the dockyard.

JEFFRIES, Boatswain.

Dead. A good sailor, and a very worthy character.

[WILLIAM] RIVERS, Gunner.

Dead. Very much respected.

STRONG, Carpenter.

One of the oldest warrant officers living; highly respected; has
been in almost every general action since that of Keppel [1778].
Since dead.

WILLIAM PYE, Schoolmaster.

Dead. A purser. See Salisbury.

[BEN.] JEFFERYS, Clerk.

Dead. A purser; a very worthy fellow.

QUEEN, 98

Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,
Now green in youth, now with’ring on the ground;
Another race the following spring supplies,
They fall successive, and successive rise;
So generations in their course decay,
So flourish these when those are passed away.—_Iliad._

In this ship I found a new race of men, all strangers to me with the exception of five. I was recommended to Captain Hutt, commanding the Queen, 98, fitting in Portsmouth Harbour, by my late friend Admiral Bourmaster, and joined her early in 1793. I had not been long on board when I was ordered with a party of seamen to fit out the Conflagration fireship, Lieutenant Laurie (now Sir Robert) superintending. Having received orders to fit for foreign service, we proceeded to Spithead and hoisted the flag (blue at the mizen) of Rear-Admiral Gardner, and having rigged the Conflagration returned to our ship. The Queen being ordered to the West Indies, I made (like a fool) application to Captain Bourmaster to get me removed to the Berwick, 74, commanded by Sir John Collins, Knight, fitting for the Mediterranean, to which place I wished much to go. After long consideration he agreed to my request; at the same time observing that I stood in my own light and that I would lose promotion by taking such a step. This I well knew; but the hatred I had for the West Indies made me blind to my own interest. When I saw Captain Hutt I found it no easy matter to bring him to my way of thinking, and it was a long time before he would give his consent. I remember when he sent for me in his cabin, I fell over a small case that happened to be in the way and broke my shins, for which he called me a damned clumsy fellow and said I deserved what I got for wishing to leave the ship, and that I would bitterly repent it when I found others promoted and myself left out. However, he gave me my discharge and a very good certificate, shook hands with me and wished me success. He was one of the strictest officers in the navy, an excellent sailor, and woe betide those that were slack in carrying on the duty. He had a stern look, with a penetrating eye that would pierce through those who he questioned, and in him the service lost an officer not easily replaced.

Our first lieutenant, old Constable, was a devil of a tyrant. When first I asked him leave to go on shore for a few hours, he said he would see me in hell first; and on my thanking him for his kindness, he swore if I did so again he would try me by a court martial for my politeness. I was once starting[84] the jolly-boat boys for being slack in getting into the boat, when old Constable being present and observing what I was about, ‘Damn my eyes, sir,’ says he, ‘that’s not the way; you should take a handspike and knock their brains out.’ He was a good sailor and an indefatigable first lieutenant, but fractious and disagreeable; yet on shore quite the reverse. Our second lieutenant, Billy Bedford, was very particular and fidgety, and would nig-nag all day long about trifles. We had a very droll midshipman (George Milner) who would take him off in the most laughable manner by jumping round a cask, grinning most horribly and singing Nig-nig-nag and Fidgetyfidgety-fum, until the tears would start from his eyes. This was for getting a rub down from Bedford, who he swore was only fit to be a cooper, and to jump round a cask.

We had many droll and good fellows among our midshipmen. I shall mention a few; and first, Flinders (one of the mates) who I messed with in the main hatchway berth on the lower deck. He was well acquainted with ancient history and wrote notes on what he read with sound observations. He was very fond of a drop, and would expatiate on the character of Alexander the Great, and said had he been present at the drinking party, Promachus would not have won the talent so easy, and he would have pledged Alexander himself with a bowl they had in his family against that of Hercules.

Jack Barrett (who commanded the Minotaur, 74, when she was lost) was another droll hand, the life and soul of the ship. He was a most worthy fellow and departed this life with the character of a brave and meritorious officer, lamented by a numerous acquaintance. James McPherson Rice, my worthy messmate, thou art also gone. A most excellent fellow, a great mathematician, well read, and respected by everyone that knew him. Out of the whole mess I am the only one left—Flinders, Meager, Milner, etc., etc., etc., all gone; and of the forty-eight that were on board, thirty-six have departed for that bourne from whence no traveller returns, as the following list will show:—

OFFICERS’ NAMES

ALAN GARDNER, Rear-admiral.

Dead [1809]. Admiral Lord Gardner. He commanded the Duke, 98, in
Rodney’s action at the taking of the Count de Grasse, April 12,
1782, where he greatly distinguished himself. He had his flag on
board the Queen in Lord Howe’s action, June 1, 1794.—[D.N.B.]

JOHN HUTT, Esq., Captain.

Killed in the action of June, 1, 1794; one of the ablest officers
in the navy.—[_D.N.B._]

LOVE CONSTABLE, 1st Lieutenant.

Dead. A commander; an excellent sailor and an indefatigable first
lieutenant. The devil on board, but an angel on shore.

WILLIAM BEDFORD, 2nd Lieutenant.

Dead [1827]. A vice-admiral; a fidgety, good fellow. See Edgar.

JOHN MILLER, 3rd Lieutenant.

Dead [1843]. A retired post captain [1797]; an excellent officer.
[Marshall, iii. 114.]

[RICHARD] DAWES, 4th Lieutenant.

Killed on June 1, 1794. [According to James, i. 185, 200, wounded;
but his name no longer appeared in the _Navy List_.]

ROBERT LAURIE, 5th Lieutenant.

Vice-admiral Sir Robert Laurie, Bart., K.C.B.; was wounded on June
1, 1794. See Salisbury.

[ROBERT] HOPE, Surgeon.

Dead. Physician at Haslar Hospital.

[GEORGE] GRANT, Secretary and Purser.

Dead.

JAMES KELLOCH, Boatswain.

Dead. A sailor.

WILLIAM IRELAND, Gunner.

Dead. Much respected.

[FRANCIS] ADAMS, Carpenter.

Dead. Builder at Gibraltar.

THOMAS OLIVER, Mate.

A commander; ‘Jawing Tom.’ [Died 1842.—Marshall, x. 384.]

WILLIAM PADDY RUSSELL, Midshipman.

A commander; a very good fellow. [Died 1828.—Marshall, x. 369.]

CHAS. TINLING, Midshipman.

A retired rear-admiral [1830. Died 1840.—Marshall, iii. 362].

[SAMUEL] BUTCHER, Midshipman.

A post captain; since a retired rear-admiral [1840; died, a
vice-admiral, 1849.—O’Byrne].

WM. WOOLDRIDGE, Midshipman.

Dead [1820]. A post captain [1807]; a rough sailor.

[MOSES] CANNADEY, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant.

NOEL SWINEY, Midshipman.

Uncertain. Was a lieutenant, but broke by court martial and
rendered incapable of serving.

JOHN BARRETT, Midshipman.

Drowned [1810] in the Minotaur, 74, of which ship he was captain.
Brave fellow.—[_D.N.B._]

JAMES MCPHERSON RICE, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant; a worthy fellow.

WILLIAM DICKINSON, Midshipman.

Dead. A quiet, good fellow. [D.D. in Queen’s pay-book; no date.]

FRANCIS DICKINSON, Midshipman.

Dead. A commander; satirical.

H. G. MORRIS, Midshipman.

A post captain. [Died, a retired rear-admiral, 1851.—O’Byrne.]

GEO. MILNER, Midshipman.

Dead. No man’s enemy but his own.

ROBERT JENNER NEVE, Midshipman.

Dead [1815]. A post captain [1806]; amazingly grand, and foolishly
proud.

[JOHN] BATT, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant.

[NICHOLAS] MEAGER, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant; called ‘Mileager.’

[JOHN A.] HODGSKIN, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant; a very worthy fellow; called ‘Pig Hog’ and
‘Hog’s-flesh.’

EDMUND RAYNER, Midshipman.

A commander [1831, on retired list]; as worthy a fellow as ever
lived. [Died 1846.]

[JOHN M.] SEPPINGS, Midshipman.

Dead. A lieutenant; had a pension from the Custom House.

PETER HUNT, Midshipman.

Dead [1824]. A post captain [1803]; a very droll fellow.

J. A. GARDNER, Midshipman.

A commander.

[JOHN] DAVIS [Quartermaster, afterwards Midshipman, aged 38].

Dead.

[WILLIAM] RENWICK, Midshipman, lent.

Lieutenant of Greenwich Hospital. [Died 1839.]

[WILLIAM] THOMPSON, Clerk.

Dead. A purser.

BERWICK, 74

Joined the Berwick in April 1793, Sir John Collins, Knight, captain, fitting in Portsmouth Harbour for the Mediterranean, and in May sailed with a division of the fleet under the Vice-Admiral Lord Hood, who had his flag on board the Victory, 100. On the passage the squadron captured a corvette. We arrived at Gibraltar, Vice-Admiral Hotham’s Division in company, and having taken in our water sailed for Toulon. When off Minorca we fell in with the Spanish fleet under Don Langara on a cruise. To the best of my recollection our fleet consisted of twenty sail of the line besides frigates, but several men of war joined after.

[The list of the fleet which follows has no authority, and has been frequently printed.]

When near Toulon Lord Hood made the signal to prepare for battle, and also the signal for a general chase which ended in the capture of the corvette L’Éclair. Saw the enemy’s fleet at anchor in the inner and outer roads. When sent in to reconnoitre, they would allow us to come as near as we liked; but the moment the ship was put about their forts would blaze away with red-hot shot; and we in the Berwick had nearly got into an awkward situation, which I shall speak of hereafter. In July while cruising off Toulon the fleet encountered a tremendous gale, and the old Berwick, who always bore the name of a bad sea boat, proved it on this occasion with a vengeance. First the bowsprit went, about two feet before the outer gammoning; bore up, and got the runners and tackles forward to secure the foremast. At daylight made the signal of distress, and parted company from the fleet. The rigging being new, it became so slack that we were obliged to set it up, with a very heavy sea running, which was done in a seaman-like manner; but mark what follows. After the lower rigging was set up, and while before the wind, the main sail, of all sails in the world, was set, and the ship hove to slap at once, by which she was nearly thrown on her beams ends. The main yard went in the slings, the main topmast and half the main top carried away, the fore mast sprung in two places, and the mizen mast in three; of the main-top men of one watch, seventeen in number, one was killed, another drowned, and several of the others severely hurt, but by falling on the splinter netting were fortunately saved. The wreck of the main yard had nearly knocked two ports into one on the main deck, while that of the main topmast got under the counter, damaged the copper, and had almost unshipped the rudder before it could be cleared, which was done with great difficulty. It is a fact that the ship rolled sixteen or eighteen feet of her fore yard in the water,[85] and laboured so dreadfully that on our arrival in port the oakum was found to have worked so much out of the seams, particularly under the counter, that it was astonishing we succeeded in reaching Gibraltar. I must also mention that the force of the wind was so great that it burst the lashings[86] of the jolly boat lying on the booms, and blew the boat away like a feather. So much for the Gulf of Lyons. I do not mean to throw blame on any one, but I cannot help thinking that the ship was somehow or other badly handled, to say nothing of her being a bad sea boat; and if she had not been as strong as wood and iron could make her, must certainly have paid a visit to Davy Jones’ locker.

We remained at Gibraltar several weeks in the New Mole, and enjoyed ourselves by going up to the old Porter house on Scud Hill[87] of an evening, and sometimes to the Junk Ships and the Swan; and then cruise about the town, which is not deficient in places of amusement. It was here I first observed the march of intellect; a fellow, whose name was Anthony Strico and kept a wine house, had over his door in large letters,

Tono Strico
Wino Houso.[88]

After the ship was refitted we proceeded to join the fleet at Toulon which had surrendered to Lord Hood during our absence. While off Minorca we were taken in a thundering squall that had almost done for the old Berwick a second time. Next day, fell in with a Spanish frigate dismasted; gave her some assistance which she seemed to want, as they appeared to be deficient in nautical knowledge, or, in other words, the vilest set of lubbers that ever were seen. They positively did not know how to get a jury mast up. On our arrival at Toulon we found Lord Hood with the British fleet and Don Langara with the Spanish; also some Neapolitan men of war. Landed our soldiers, which were part of the 69th regiment of foot doing duty as marines. Plenty of fighting going on in every direction, the Princess Royal and some other ships keeping up a constant fire against the enemy’s lines to prevent them throwing up batteries. We had some pleasant trips in our launch in carrying a load of eighteen and thirty-two pound shot to supply the Princess Royal while she was engaging, the shot from the enemy flying more than half a mile beyond us. Fortunately we escaped without injury. One of the lower-deck guns on board the Princess Royal or St. George—I forget which—burst and killed nine men and wounded twenty-seven.[89] We remained but a short time at Toulon, and then sailed to join Commodore Linzee at Tunis.

We had a delightful passage running along the Italian shore with a fine view of Elba, Gorgona, Pianoza, Monte Christo, Capraja, etc.

For here the muse so oft her harp has strung,
That not a mountain rears its head unsung.—_Addison._

Stood over for Sardinia and put into Cagliari, the capital, where we found Commodore Linzee and squadron.

_October 22, 1793._—Went on shore and dined in company with the Sardinian admiral and several great men of the island, who were very intelligent and gave us an account of the attack made by the French squadron, who were beaten off with loss (according to their account) of 5,000 men.[90] Visited the city, which has a university, and went to some of the convents to purchase articles from the nuns. Found the friars a set of jolly fellows who behaved to us with great civility, not only in this place but in every other port in the Mediterranean that we put into.

_October 25._—Sailed from Cagliari in quest of some French frigates, but had not the good fortune to fall in with them. During the cruise before we put into Cagliari and joined the commodore, we fell in with six sail of the line who, not answering the private signal, were taken for a French squadron. It being late in the evening we made all sail and stood from them; they gave chase the whole of the night, but only two could come up with us, and they took good care not to come alongside, and well for them they did not; all our guns were loaded with round and double-headed shot, and our 68-pounders on the forecastle were crammed with grape and canister, and our fellows (two thirds of them Irish) were determined to give them a lesson that would never be forgotten. This they seemed to anticipate, as they kept hankering on the quarter until morning, when they hoisted Spanish colours; one of them sent a boat on board of us.

The officer seemed astonished when he saw our men at quarters, their black silk handkerchiefs[91] tied round their heads, their shirt sleeves tucked up, the crows and handspikes in their hands, and the boarders all ready with their cutlasses and tomahawks, that he told Sir John Collins they put him in mind of so many devils.

After the cruise we put into Tunis, and found lying there the Duquesne, French 74; and higher up in the bay, near the Goletta, her convoy, consisting of fifty sail of merchantmen with valuable cargoes; also the Spanish squadron mentioned above. Commodore Linzee with the following men of war anchored close to the Frenchman, and the Agamemnon near their convoy:—

Alcide 74 Commodore Linzee; Captain Woodley
Berwick 74 Captain Sir John Collins
Illustrious 74 Captain T. L. Frederick
Agamemnon 64 Captain Horatio Nelson
Lowestoft 32 Captain Cunningham[92]
Nemesis 28 Captain Lord Amelius Beauclerk

I must here mention that the Yankee-doodle[93] James in his _Naval History_ takes no notice of this expedition, which is to be wondered at as the ‘Sea Serpent’ was never backward in finding fault, and here he missed a good opportunity. The Agamemnon and Lowestoft were sent, as I have stated, to watch the convoy, and the three seventy-fours anchored one abreast, another on the bow, and one on the quarter of the Duquesne, ready to bring her to action, and six sail of the line (Spanish) to assist in this great undertaking; but all this mighty preparation came to nothing. The cargoes were safely landed from the convoy; and the Duquesne, after laughing at us for several weeks and singing the Marseilles hymn morning and evening, with the English jack spread over her round house, got under way, and arrived safe at Toulon, which had been evacuated by the fleet and army; and all this because Tunis was a neutral port. Now everybody knew that before the squadron sailed, and also that Tunis was nothing less than a nest of thieves; besides, we were out of gunshot of their forts and might have taken the whole with the greatest ease imaginable.

We had a rugged-headed, squint-eyed boatswain’s mate, who early one morning passed the word for all those who were quartered on the main deck to come below and fight the lower-deck guns. He was instantly obeyed, and the people of their own accord were absolutely going to bring the French 74 to action, and the above boatswain’s mate as the head of the party was in the act of setting the example, when the second lieutenant snatched the match out of his hand just as he was going to fire. Lord Nelson, who commanded the Agamemnon, happened to come on board soon after, and when this was told him he seemed quite pleased: ‘For then,’ says he, ‘we must have taken them.’ If he had commanded, we certainly should have taken them,[94] and not have stayed wasting our time for months in the bay doing nothing.

Our squadron used to water near the Goletta, a small channel leading to the ancient harbour of Carthage, fortified on each side and a chain across. On the left of this channel they have a gun with marble shot of immense size; the diameter of the bore twenty two inches and a half. On the other side are a few wells dug in the sand, from which the squadron got their water. On one occasion I went in the launch to fill our casks, a messmate of mine (the present Captain Valobra) taking a trip with me; having given directions about filling, I proposed to cross the Goletta (which has a drawbridge over it) and take a look at the large fort they have close by. On getting into the interior, which is a square, we saw a door open and went into what appeared a guard room, from the number of arms tastefully arranged about the walls, and several Turks rolled up in blankets lying on the floor. Having examined the place we were going away, when one of the Turks, as I approached the door, caught hold of me by the collar and pushed me back. I did not relish this and tried to make the blackguard understand, but all to no purpose. However, I again made a movement to get out, when a young Turk, with a short stick that had something round like a ball fixed to the end of it, made a blow at my head which would certainly have done for me had I not stepped back in time. We had left our side arms in the launch and had nothing to defend ourselves against this ruffian. One of the Turks we heard say ‘Spagniolle!’ upon which Valobra called out ‘Angleise!’ Whether this had the effect to liberate us I know not; but an old withered Turk came up, and after a deal of altercation with the fellow who struck at me, he pointed to the door and showed us the way out, and glad enough we were of it. Having filled our casks we returned on board (the rascally Turks pelting us with stones as long as we were in reach), and made a complaint to Sir John Collins, who went on shore the next day to represent the business to the commandant of the fort, and this vagabond had the impudence to say we might think ourselves well off that we were not sent up the country and made slaves. Went with Lieutenant Shirley to see the ruins of Carthage.... Saw several remains of antiquity, broken columns, underground passages, pieces of frieze, and the remarkable arches supposed to be the stables of the elephants. I went into a room like a cellar and got a piece of the flooring, of beautiful green and white marble, which I brought home; but some thief in England stole it from me—the devil do him good with it. The ground about the ruins was covered with reptiles of almost every description, which made it dangerous to explore. I carried a piece of frieze several miles intending to bring it home also, but was obliged to leave it from fatigue. As Lieutenant Shirley, who was very tired, sat on a broken column, I observed it might have been the same that Caius Marius rested on when in exile and from which he made this memorable reply (to show the instability of human greatness) to him that was sent by the governor to warn him off: ‘Go,’ says he, ‘and say that thou hast seen Caius Marius sitting on the ruins of Carthage.’

A short time before we left Tunis the bey sent a present to the squadron, of bullocks, butter, poultry, scented candles and some otto of roses. We in the cockpit had some butter, poultry, and a scented candle or two; as for the otto of roses we could smell it near the wardroom, but not a drop could we see in the cockpit. However, we were more regaled with the scent of a seapie, made in a pitch kettle that contained, besides other delicacies, upwards of thirty fowls. We sat round the cauldron in the cockpit, like the witches in ‘Macbeth,’ and would not have exchanged this glorious mess for all the otto of roses belonging to the bey or his ministers. At the same time, the devil thank some people for their kindness in not paying the compliment; they might have sent us one small bottle to counteract the bilge water; but never mind; they, poor souls, are all dead; and most of us are alive notwithstanding. As for the butter, it was only fit to grease the topmasts, and for that purpose we resigned it. We had a few of the candles, made of beeswax and scented.

The bullocks were very small, and here I must relate a droll circumstance. Our purser’s steward was one that dearly loved grog, and it so happened that on the day the bullocks were slaughtered, he got beastly drunk. Some of the midshipmen seeing him in that situation in the first watch, lying near the steward room, agreed to sew him up in one of the bullocks’ hides, which was accordingly done. The horns being on, were fixed to a nicety on his head and fastened under the chin, firm as a rock. A little before twelve he came to himself and got up (for his legs and arms were free) and tried to get into the steward room, but the key was secured. He then began to bellow, just as the quartermaster came down to call the watch, and was knocking his horns against the bulk head, his tail near the cockpit ladder. The quartermaster, holding up his lantern, looked at him for some time in amazement; at last, letting it fall, he took to his heels, swearing that the devil was in the cockpit; while those who slept abaft on the lower deck jumped out of their hammocks and followed his example. ’Twas a most laughable sight; particularly so when the officer of the watch came down to see what was the matter and, evidently under the influence of fear, did not venture down the cockpit ladder until one of the midshipmen came up and said it was Colquhoun, the steward, transformed into a bullock. It had a good effect on the steward, as he was afraid ever after to bouse his jib up; and whenever he put his head up the cockpit ladder, those on the lower deck would sing out, ‘What’s become of your horns?’

Left Tunis for Porto Farino to get a supply of water for the fleet. The plague had made great ravages before our arrival, but had in some measure abated. This place is a Turkish arsenal, and several of their men of war were fitting out. A number of Neapolitan slaves were at work in the different storehouses; some of them could speak English, and gave us an interesting account of the conduct of their masters. I saw an old Turk, upwards of seventy, with a long stick in his hand thrashing several of the poor wretches. I could not refrain from telling him he was a damned old scoundrel; whether he understood or not, I cannot say, but he called out repeatedly, ‘Esau, Esau’; and Lieutenant Shirley bawling in his ear, ‘Will you have Isaac and Jacob also?’

Porto Farino is situated near the mouth of the Bagrada,[95] where Attilius Regulus, the Roman consul, lay encamped in the first Punic war, when the serpent attacked and destroyed several of his soldiers who came to the river to obtain water.... The ancient city of Utica, famous for the death of Cato in the civil war, was at no great distance from this port.

A short time before we sailed the Turkish governor paid a visit to the ship, with his retinue, among whom was the Turkish admiral—a fine looking fellow near seven feet high. We saluted the governor with eleven guns, and he minutely inspected every part of the ship and seemed highly delighted with the bread room, and also with the 68-pounders we had on the forecastle. One of his attendants spoke English, and said he was in England at the time the Foudroyant was captured by the Monmouth,[96] and that he lived at Wapping. We suspected he was an Englishman although he said his name was Mustapha.

Sailed from this port to cruise off the Island of Pantalaria. You that are fond of romance are aware that in this island the famous captain of banditti met his death; all Italy speaks of him, from the Apennines to the Straits of Messina, and the shepherds of the Sicilian vales sing the praises of the valoroso Capitano Rinaldini. But they did not (in this island) sing the praises of little Tommy Yates, our purser, who went on shore to purchase some articles, and put the whole island under quarantine when they found out we had just left the Turkish port; and if Tommy had gone on shore the second time he probably would have left his bones there.

We encountered off this island the heaviest gale I ever was in; particularly a squall that lasted from seven bells in the middle watch until two bells in the morning watch. The storm staysails were blown from the bolt rope, and the ship during this prodigious gust lay with her main deck guns in the water. The sea was one white sheet, and during the whole course of my servitude I never witnessed anything equal to it; and many who had been in the hurricane of 1780 in the West Indies, declared that this squall was equally terrible. After the cruise we put into Trapani, the ancient Drepanum. It was here Aeneas landed, according to Virgil, when the fight with the gauntlet took place between Dares and Entellus, and it was also famous for that between Hercules and Eryx, in which the latter was killed. It was a noted place in the first Punic war for military events, as that of the defeat of the Roman fleet under the Consul Claudius Pulcher, wherein (according to Valerius Maximus) the Romans lost 90 galleys, 8,000 men killed or drowned, and 20,000 taken prisoners by the Carthaginians without the loss of a man or a single galley on their side.[97]

I must here relate an anecdote which will show how careful people ought to be when joking with those whom they think don’t understand their language. The day after we arrived at Trapani, near thirty Sicilian clergymen came on board to see the ship, and while on the quarter deck making their observations, Palmer, our fourth lieutenant, in a frolicsome mood, went up to one of them and, while bowing and scraping, said, ‘Pray, sir, were you ever knocked down with a fathom of ——?’ when, to Palmer’s horror and amazement, the other answered in good English, ‘Never in my life, sir,’ and then addressed his companions, who cast their eyes upon Palmer and began to laugh at his expense. This he could not stand, and in going down the quarter deck ladder declared he would sooner face the devil than a Trapani parson.

The islands Maretimo, Levanzo, and Faviguano are near this place; in the last-mentioned island the Turkish prisoners are sent as slaves. We saw several of them at work in the moat, one of them a man of prodigious stature. These islands were the ancient Ægades, where Lutatius Catulus, the Roman consul, defeated the Carthaginian fleet and put an end to the first Punic War.[97]

Before we left Trapani we went to see a church, or rather cemetery, where several rows of dead bodies were placed in niches one over the other. They were naked, some standing up and others lying at full length, and presenting an appearance truly horrible; we understood they belonged to a particular order. While lying here, a mutiny took place among the ship’s company, in consequence of some bullocks that were anything but fat being sent for the use of the people. Now John Bull, having more regard for fat and lean, swore he’d be damned if he’d have anything to do with skin and bone. A survey was then held and the report stated that as no other meat could be obtained, double allowance of this lean kine should be served out to make up the deficiency; but all to no purpose; and John Bull, forgetting his duty and only thinking of his maw, broke out into open rebellion. Some of the scoundrels were put in irons, but were immediately released by the others and the irons thrown overboard. They then assembled on the lower deck, got the hammocks down, and a breastwork made in the bay, with the two foremost guns pointed aft. The officers at last prevailed on them to return to their duty, and, Sir John Collins being an easy man, no examples were made. Sailed for Leghorn, where we arrived in Carnival time. We were not long at an anchor before the ship was surrounded by boats with musicians playing fine Italian airs and women singing most delightfully.

Several men of war were in the roads; among which was the Aquilon, 32, with Prince Augustus Frederick (now Duke of Sussex) on his travels. Got leave with some difficulty to go on shore with two messmates, Graves and Valobra; saw the brazen men so much spoken of, consisting of the father and three sons (Turks) in bronze chained to the four corners of a pedestal, with a marble statue of a Tuscan prince on the top. Visited the Jews’ synagogue, which was well worth seeing, being a magnificent temple; also the churches, opera house and many other places, with fine paintings and statuary, and had glorious fun at the Carnival, where we met our little purser, Tommy Yates, with a mask and a black domino on, cutting such capers that Heraclitus would have wiped away his tears had he seen him, and joined in the laugh. He was a wet little soul and generous to a degree, and everyone respected him.

Early next morning, after a sumptuous breakfast, we set off for Pisa, about fourteen or fifteen miles from Leghorn, in one of the gilt coaches with horses that, had they seen the devil would not have taken fright. We were three hours going the distance and had full time to observe the beautiful prospect along the Vale of Arno. About ten we entered Pisa, where they were celebrating the Carnival in a magnificent style, and we were told that six hundred coaches were in the procession. The prince was among the number and appeared much gratified. Pelting with sugar plums is customary on this occasion; and one of our midshipmen pelted Lord Hervey in his coach; and when told it was the British ambassador, and that he looked very angry, he immediately hove another volley at Lady Hervey, observing that she looked better tempered than his Excellency.

We spent a very pleasant evening at the theatre, and next morning went to the cathedral—a gorgeous fabric, with gates of bronze highly decorated with passages from scripture in compartments in _basso relievo_. We also saw the baptistery with a whispering gallery, and the _campo santo_, with the paintings on the wall in _fresco_ round the cloisters, the work of the oldest masters. One painting I well recollect, representing the Last Judgment—the work I believe of Buffalmaco, who in this painting drew all his friends going to heaven, and his enemies going to the devil; the faces of all being an exact resemblance of those of both parties. The tombs of some of the masters are at the foot of their works.[98] The _campo santo_ is an oblong figure, and the earth in the centre was brought from the Holy Land some centuries ago, and people of religious celebrity are here interred.

We next visited the Observatory and Botanical Gardens, and then to the top of the Leaning Tower, 187 feet high, and whose summit overlooks the base fifteen feet. One of our party began ringing the bells, which brought up a posse of friars; and Graves, pointing to one of them, a very fat man, exclaimed, ‘I’ll be damned if that fellow is not fitted for foreign service with six months’ provisions in his guts.’ I suppose they did not understand him, as they behaved with great civility. Some in this country, who I could mention, would have behaved in a different manner. There’s an old saying

That Pisa looks ill
If you sit still.

This was not the case with us, as we were constantly on the move and saw everything and enjoyed ourselves greatly, particularly among the masks while parading the Lung’ Arno. The day before our departure we took a long and delightful walk upon the banks of the Arno and were within a few miles of the spot where Catiline and his whole army were destroyed 63 B.C., in the consulship of Marcus Tullius Cicero and Caius Antonius Nepos.

Pisa has a university and formerly contained 100,000 inhabitants, but has greatly fallen off and grass grows in the streets. It contains many churches and other superb buildings, particularly the Grand Duke’s palace in the Lung’ Arno, the Hospital, and Exchange. There are three bridges over the Arno, one of them of marble. Several Roman antiquities are to be seen. It was our intention to have gone to Lucca and from thence to Florence; but all sublunary things are vain, as we were ordered to sea sooner than was expected, and returned to Leghorn after five days’ absence, where we dined at an excellent ordinary at one of the best houses in the city. We had a strong party of English officers at the dinner, some of whom got rather merry before the cloth was off the table, and catching hold of the waiter they rolled him in the cloth with plates and dishes, the fellow roaring out all the while to no purpose. One midshipman took a loaf and let if fall out of the window (we were on the second floor) upon the jaw of an Italian in the street, which floored him, while others pelted legs and wings of fowls at those looking out of the opposite windows; but to their kind forbearance everything was taken as a joke and only laughed at. Would this have been the case in England?—where every hole and corner has a board threatening prosecution, and if you pass two or three stopping in the street, their conversation will be about law, hanging, or trade.

Sallied out in the evening and went to a house in Scratch Alley—you that have been at Leghorn I daresay know the place well. In the middle of this lane lived an old woman of enormous size, who was named the Boatswain of Scratch Alley. Saw a figure there I never shall forget—a fellow dressed as a lady, with a fine cap trimmed with blue ribbon and a white frock on, a face like Vulcan with a long black beard. When he came in the room we were sitting in, he danced a fandango and cut such astonishing capers that my old messmate Vosper said drily, ‘Gardner, if that fellow is not the devil he must be his near relation.’ The next evening three of us took a cruise, and, it being very late before we returned, our lodging was shut up and with difficulty we got entrance to a house near the Mole. The accommodations vile in the extreme; only one bed, with sheets as if a sweep had slept in them. At this time it began to rain with drops as big as pistol balls, which obliged us to stay where we were. However, we sat on the chairs, but got very little sleep for the rats and people passing and re-passing to a sewer at the end of the room. The morning luckily turned out fine, and after clearing our uniforms of a few bugs that thought fit to billet themselves on us without being invited, we gladly started from this infernal hotel to breathe the fresh air. Went to Montenero, where the learned Smelfungus has a monument near his remains.[99]

Having received orders to sail immediately and join the squadron under Vice-Admiral Hotham off Toulon, we first put into St. Fiorenzo for a short time. Went to see the Mortella tower that beat off the Fortitude, 74, and Juno frigate; the former ship had upwards of sixty killed and wounded, and was on fire in several places from the red-hot shot. This tower had but two guns; one of them was dismounted during the attack and defended by twenty Frenchmen, only one of whom was killed. The tower was taken by mounting some guns on a spot that overlooked it.[100]

Sailed from St. Fiorenzo and joined the squadron. Our captain, Sir John Collins, being ill, we had Captain William Shield acting. Sir John soon after departed this life and was committed to the deep. Sixteen minute guns were fired at the funeral to denote the number of years he had been a post captain. Sir John was a well-meaning man, but fractious from long illness. He died with the gout in his head and stomach. The ship’s company paid respect to his memory; they divided their black silk handkerchiefs,[101] and wore one part round their hats and the other round their arms, and requested they might see the corpse before the interment; which request was granted, and they walked through the cabin in ranks and bowed to the coffin while passing, and most of them in tears—a sight truly impressive. Billy Shield remained with us about a month after Sir John’s death, and then George Campbell, as good a fellow as ever lived, took command.

I have already stated our reconnoitring the enemy’s fleet in the roads. Out of many instances I shall mention one that had nearly been of serious consequences. Having stood in with a fine breeze, the enemy never fired a shot until we hove in stays. At this time it fell on a sudden a dead calm, and we were within gunshot. They then began to blaze away from all their forts, the red-hot shot flying in every direction. I was looking out of the gunroom port when a shot came right under our counter, which made the water hiss and had nearly struck the rudder. At this time things looked queer, all the boats were hoisted out and began to tow, but still we drifted in, the shot flying full half a mile beyond us, when luckily a breeze came off the land and saved the Berwick from being sunk or blown up, for she never would have been taken. Fortunately we had none killed or wounded, which was astonishing, as the shot flew like hail. Captain Campbell soon after left the ship, being appointed to the Terrible, 74, and Captain George Henry Towry succeeded him.

Our squadron under Admiral Hotham consisted of eight sail of the line, two of them three-deckers (the Britannia, 100, and St. George, 98) and two frigates; and, after several weeks’ cruise, the French fleet put to sea from Toulon with seven sail of the line, one of them a three-decker, and six or seven frigates or smaller vessels. Now, mark me, several of those ships had been put down as burnt at the evacuation of Toulon, but now had the impudence to rise from their ashes like the Phœnix,[102] or like the snake that had slept the winter, but on the return of spring appears renewed in youth and with new fury burns:

Qualis ubi in lucem coluber, mala gramina pastus,
Frigida sub terra tumidum quem bruma tegebat,
Nunc positis novus exuviis, nitidusque juventa,
Lubrica convolvit sublato pectore terga,
Arduus ad solem, et linguis micat ore trisulcis.—_Aeneid._

_June 1794._—We were at dinner when the drum beat to quarters, and on going upon deck saw the ‘Resurgam Squadron’ coming out, under topsails and foresail, on the starboard tack, in line of battle, the Sans Culotte,[103] 136 guns, their leading ship; the wind westerly; our squadron standing in on the larboard tack, and to the best of my recollection about three leagues from the enemy; and, had we stood on and tacked, we should have got in their wake. But our admiral made a signal—it being at this time evening—that a movement would take place after dusk. Now, what do you think this movement was? Why, to bear up and sail large! ‘Tell it not in Gath, nor publish it in the streets of Askalon.’ The Meleager, 32, was left behind to watch the enemy. All this appeared strange; but the admiral, we supposed, knew

What was what and that as high
As metaphysic wit could fly.