by Roy Adkins
Napoleon defeated the combined Russian and Austrian armies at Austerlitz, leading to peace between Austria and France (December)
1806
The Dutch colony of Cape of Good Hope was captured by the British ( January)
Funeral of Nelson (9 January)
Death of Prime Minister William Pitt (the Younger) ( January)
The British defeated the French at the Battle of San Domingo (in San Domingo Bay) (February)
The engineer Isambard Kingdom Brunel was born (April)
Expedition to South America (from June)
1807
The unsuccessful Dardanelles expedition (February)
The South America expedition failed ( July)
The British slave trade was abolished (March)
USS Chesapeake was attacked by HMS Leopard ( June)
Giuseppe Garibaldi was born ( July)
Bombardment of Copenhagen (August–September)
1808
USA prohibited the import of slaves from Africa ( January)
The Spanish began to revolt against the French (May)
Napoleon abolished the Inquisition in Spain and Italy
1809
Retreat of the British army to Vigo and Corunna and evacuation by sea ( January)
Land battle of Corunna in which Sir John Moore was killed ( January)
Charles Darwin was born (February)
Attack on the French warships in Basque Roads (April)
Unsuccessful Walcheren expedition ( July–December)
The future Victorian prime minister Gladstone was born (December)
Pall Mall in London was illuminated by gas street lights
1810
Guadeloupe was captured by the British from the French (February)
British captured Amboyna in the Molucca Islands (February)
British captured Mauritius (Île de France) (December)
Sweden declared war on Britain (end of year)
Severe winter in Europe (1810–11)
1811
George III was declared insane and the Prince of Wales became Prince Regent (February)
Battle of Lissa (March)
USS President attacked HMS Little Belt (May)
Java was taken by the British from the Dutch (August–September)
1812
Charles Dickens was born (February)
United States declared war on Britain ( June, so-called ‘1812 war’)
USS Constitution defeated HMS Guerriere (August)
USS United States defeated HMS Macedonian (October)
USS Constitution defeated HMS Java (December)
1813
USS Hornet defeated HMS Peacock (February)
David Livingstone was born (March)
Richard Wagner was born (May)
HMS Shannon defeated USS Chesapeake off Boston ( June)
Giuseppe Verdi was born (October)
The first smooth-wheeled steam train was used to pull coal trucks at Wylam colliery, Northumberland
1814
Napoleon abdicated and went into exile on Elba (April)
USS Wasp defeated HMS Reindeer ( June)
Battle of Bladensburg (August)
Washington was attacked and burned by the British (August)
The British unsuccessfully attacked Baltimore (September)
The failed British attack on Fort Bowyer at Mobile Point (September)
A peace treaty was signed at Ghent between Britain and America (24 December)
British attack on New Orleans (December–January)
1815
Battle of New Orleans ( January)
Emma Hamilton died ( January)
The Treaty of Ghent was signed in America (February)
Napoleon escaped from Elba (February)
Napoleon landed in France (March)
Battle of Waterloo (18 June)
For more background to this book, please visit our website at www.adkinshistory.com
ONE
LEARNING THE ROPES
He was also as much a sailor, as an hero; he knew every rope in the ship as well as a forecastle man, both how to put it up, and how to take it down.
Able Seaman George Watson praising an officer in HMS Eagle1
Jack Tar, as a contemporary song had it, ‘dances and sings, and is always content, in his vows to his lass he’ll ne’er fail her … Long-side of an enemy, boldly and brave, he’ll with broadside and broadside regale her, yet he’ll sigh to the soul o’er that enemy’s grave, so noble’s the mind of a sailor.’2 Songs about naval seamen as well as characters portraying them were common in plays and musical performances in Nelson’s time, since they were regarded as heroes who kept the enemy from the shores of Britain. The smart appearance and noble sentiments of these stage sailors doubtless inspired many with patriotic fervour and a desire to volunteer for the navy and share their glory, but the reality was quite different. The fourteen-year-old Scottish boy Daniel Goodall, when volunteering for the Royal Navy at Greenock, was appalled by the sight of his fellow recruits who were waiting to be assigned to a ship:
A more ruffianly, villainous-looking set of scamps I have rarely had the ill-fortune to fall amongst. True, they were seen to the very worst advantage, for they were dirty, ragged, and reckless. Many bore marks of violence received in resistance to the press-gang, and the moody sullenness stamped on the faces of most of those victims of Government urgency was in the last degree forbidding. Traces of deep debauchery were visible on the faces of the majority, and altogether the picture was such that I had a strong feeling of having made a very serious mistake in the choice of a vocation. This impression did not, however, last long, and a more careful survey of my companions showed me that there were some honest men enough amongst them, and led me to the inference that the greater part of the physical material I saw before me would improve by time and favourable circumstances.3
The navy was always short of seamen and took whatever men were available, leaving the officers to make the best of it, as Captain Rotheram complained in one of his ‘growls’:* ‘When arranging your Ship’s Company which is just put on board of you by different draughts from all parts, Liverpool, Bristol, Hull, Leith, Dublin, Waterford, Cork and Ballyhack, discovering your First Lieutenant to be a lubber, your Boatswain a drunkard, your Purser an idiot and your Clerk a fool.’4
Not just the captain, but all the officers of a ship were periodically faced with sorting out a group of fresh recruits sent on board to man a newly commissioned ship, or to replace those who had died, been taken to hospital, discharged or deserted. These new men always ranged in skill from experienced seamen to absolute novices. They had to be given jobs that made best use of their abilities, or, in some cases, jobs where they would do least damage until, quite literally, they ‘learned the ropes’ – and became familiar with all the other working parts of a sailing warship. As Captain James Scott commented, ‘a seaman cannot, like a recruit [into the army], be formed in six months; it requires more than that number of years to form a tolerably good sailor. It is a profession embracing such a variety of incidental and novel circumstances, that unexpected knowledge may at all times be drawn from events by the oldest and most experienced seamen.’5
Most new hands found it quite a shock joining a warship – this was a strange and foreign place, completely beyond their previous experience. Well into the nineteenth century, when the spreading network of railways in Britain made travel easier, the majority of people seldom strayed beyond the bounds of their county, but spent their lives within a few miles of where they were born. Even those relatively close to the coast were unlikely to set foot in a ship unless they were connected to some seafaring trade. The Scottish officer Basil Hall, who began his life in the navy in 1802 as a midshipman in HMS Leander, summed up the experiences of many: ‘In most other professions, the transition from the old to the new mode of life is more or less gradual, but in that of the sea, it is so totally abrupt, and without intervening preparation, that a
boy must be either very much of a philosopher or very much of a goose, not to feel, at first, well-nigh overwhelmed with the change of circumstances.’6
This was certainly the experience of Henry Walsh, who was from an Irish farming family: ‘I then being an entire stranger to the sea and unaccustomed to the ways of a seafaring life, you may judge how strange their manners and customs appeared to me’.7 Walsh never wrote home to his parents because, he explained, ‘I did not wish to write to them or let them know where I was least [in case] it augment their sorrow in knowing that I was in a man of war, as country people generally is unacquainted with the sea, and I have often heard say when I was at home that they would as soon see the death of a child than know of him going to sea.’8 Indeed, when Aaron Thomas was staying at Wheatley near Oxford at the end of 1792, before he joined the navy, he found that sailors were regarded with suspicion, with one publican declaring that ‘It is a foolish opinion we have got, but none of us country people feel a partiality for them.’9
The crew of a warship was very like a community in a town or village, which at that time would have been populated by all kinds of craftsmen – little work was mechanised, and much depended upon the skill of various trades. A warship was similarly filled with men from diverse backgrounds. Some time between 1805 and 1809, Captain Rotheram compiled a unique and detailed survey of his crew* on board the Bellerophon warship, of which he was in charge for two and a half years after the Battle of Trafalgar. Nearly four hundred men were in his survey, and Rotheram recorded their former occupations, which included shoemakers, hatters, barbers, watchmakers, snuffmakers, farmers, fishermen, glaziers, glassblowers, papermakers, wheelwrights and different types of merchant seaman. Some of these men were employed in the same trade on board the Bellerophon, but most had little use for their previous skills – though from time to time men such as shoemakers would have been useful to their messmates.
For most men and boys, the first navy vessel they boarded was a receiving ship, which usually acted as a clearing house for both willing recruits and pressed men. From here they were distributed to warships needing seamen, where they were sorted out by one of the officers – usually the first lieutenant. Once on board their allotted ship, they were recorded in pre-printed ledger books, known as muster books, which gave a list of the ship’s company. These muster books, periodically submitted to the Navy Board (part of the Admiralty), were divided into several columns for entering the man’s allotted number, the date of recruitment (pressed or volunteer), age when joining the ship, place and country of birth, name, and when discharged and why – D meant discharged, DD discharged dead and R run, meaning deserted. Further columns related to pay and provisions.
Detailed descriptions of each man were also compiled by the captains, but these books did not have to be submitted and so most have been lost. The seaman Robert Mercer Wilson observed the process:
On your first appearance on board you are summoned before the First Lieutenant, who interrogates you concerning your profession, your abilities as a seaman, place of nativity, and dwelling; name and age, length of time you may have been at sea, whether in ships-of-war or merchantmen, to which questions you are looked to for prompt answers. You are then rated on the ship’s books according to your abilities, as the First Lieutenant may think fit – at the same time without prejudice or favour being shewn to anyone. Should it so happen that you are found not competent to the rating you had at first, you are disrated. But previous to being entered on the ship’s books, you are examined by the surgeon to see if you are a fit man for His Majesty’s Service … Your description is then stated down by the Captain’s clerk, with the addition of your parents’, relations’, or friends’ dwelling; in short, all your connections, in case of your desertion.10
This was an era before photography, and the physical traits of a person had to be written down. Only the officers could afford to have their portraits painted, often as miniatures for keepsakes to leave with their wives. Consequently, representations of these men survive at various stages of their career, and there were even busts and occasional commemorative statues. Some black-and-white photographs were taken of those officers who survived into the later nineteenth century, but these elderly men do not illustrate the character of Nelson’s navy. Officers were also represented in paintings of battles, and it is in these scenes that ordinary seamen might be portrayed as well, but mostly not as likenesses of actual seamen. A few illustrations show real seamen, such as sketches in personal diaries and the portraits of the mutineers from the Temeraire that accompanied an account of their trial in 1802. Other illustrations show the seamen when much older, such as one of John Nicol at the age of sixty-seven.
Much more common are written descriptions of seamen, marines and officers, and these survive in memoirs, journals and letters, along with comments on character traits. An unflattering portrayal of the first lieutenant and the boatswain of the Impetueux was left by Private William Wheeler when he was waiting for the Walcheren expedition to set sail in July 1809: ‘The first Lieutenant who goes by the name of “Ugly Betty” is a tall thin meagre ugly looking fellow, and what is worse than all, his mind is as evil as his person is disagreeable … The Boatswain if not a twin brother of Ugly Betty, seems to be possessed with the same evil genius.’11 A few days later, Ugly Betty broke both his legs, much to the joy of everyone on board. The first lieutenant’s real name was John Jones, and the boatswain was William Hewitt.
James Anthony Gardner, from Waterford in Ireland, jotted down some lively character sketches of each of the officers he served with at various times, and those on board HMS Queen included: ‘LOVE CONSTABLE, 1st Lieutenant. Dead. A commander; an excellent sailor and an indefatigable first lieutenant. The devil on board, but an angel on shore … GEO. MILNER, Midshipman. Dead. No man’s enemy but his own … JOHN A. HODGSKIN, Midshipman. Dead. A lieutenant; called “Pig Hog” and “Hog’s-flesh”.’12 The chaplain Edward Mangin, new to the navy in 1812, also noted many details that give valuable insights into the appearance and character of the people. Of the crew on board the Gloucester, he related that
The third Lieutenant, Mr. Baikie, came from the Orkneys: he was a very peculiar person, and compounded of strange elements. He loved play, and wine exceedingly; and was not less fond of good eating; altogether a man of coarse feelings, and gross appetites … Mr. John Jones, the Master, was a Gloucestershire man: one of those kindly beings whom everybody loves, and no one envies … He was humble, modest, silent and sweet-tempered, without being either servile, sheepish, reserved or silly.13
Descriptions of seamen were also intended to prevent fraud, as in the certificates given out for pensions for injuries. William Warneck was awarded a pension because his sight was impaired by an accident. His certificate recorded that he was ‘Aged about thirty four years, born at or near Ayr in the County of Ayr, Scotland, of light hair, grey eyes, swarthy complexion, stature five feet two and a half inches … marked with the small pock.’14 When men deserted, descriptions of the offenders were circulated, such as those sent to the Admiralty by Captain Seator of HMS Leyden at Harwich in July 1803:
Enclosed I send you the descriptions of two Seamen who deserted last night from His Majesty’s Ship under my command by swimming away from her … I can scarcely think it possible they could reach any vessel. They are both tall men … Samuel Cousins, Aged 27 years, 5 ft 11 in high. Strong black hair, dark eyes, long face, and black beard. Has four letters punctured on his left arm, HN–SC 1797 and AC on the same hand. Was born at York, but married and did reside at Hull where his wife now lives in Trippett Street having allotted part of his pay to her – John Warsworth (a vol[unteer] and [was] paid the bounty). Aged 22 years, 5 ft 6¾ in high. Florrid open countenance, stout made, little or no beard, light sandy hair, tyed. Born in Kackington, Derbyshire. Single man but has a mother living at Draple, near Hull, to whom he had allotted a part of his pay.15
With many men entering the ship against their will as victims of the press-ga
ng, it is likely that numbers of them provided false names and addresses. Knowing this, particular attention was paid to their physical appearance and distinguishing marks such as tattoos. The punctured letters on the left arm of Samuel Cousins were tattoos, and Captain Rotheram in his survey noted many distinguishing marks, with more than a quarter of the men having tattoos. Among his crew were ‘Charles Brown: moon and stars on left hand’, ‘Daniel Cameron: anchor on left arm’, ‘William Fairweather: crucifix on right arm’, ‘Richard Grant: crucifix and mermaid on left arm’, and ‘Josh. Norman: tattoed on forehead’.16
The most popular designs were the sun, moon and stars, crucifixes, anchors and mermaids, but even more popular were sets of initials. Tattoos were frequently the subject of superstitions and thought to be charms against drowning, venereal disease and evil spirits, and individual designs may have been chosen because they were believed to guard against specific evils. These tattoos were done by the sailors themselves using a sharp point to break the skin before rubbing a colouring such as soot or gunpowder into the wounds – ‘the pricking of a mermaid on the arm of his messmate’17 is one of the leisure-time skills mentioned by Robert Hay – and so the artistry of the finished design depended on the wishes of the person being tattooed and the skill of his friend wielding the sharp point. On board the Gloucester, Dublin-born Edward Mangin was saddened by the death of the coxswain, Thomas Flynn, who was from Belfast. ‘When stripped,’ Mangin related, ‘I observed that he had on the upper part of one arm, a drawing, not very rudely executed, of a female and a seaman parting, and a motto beneath “Thomas, come home to Ann”. Marks of some kind, put on as his was, are common among sailors, and by a certain process are rendered indelible.’18
Rotheram also documented the heights of the men, and the average was 5 feet 5 inches, with several being under 5 feet and none over 6 feet.19 Captain Seator described both deserters as tall men, though one was only 5 feet 6¾ inches; skeletons excavated at the cemetery belonging to Greenwich Hospital have a mean stature of 5 feet 6 inches, which is in accordance with Rotheram’s data.20 Nelson is believed to have been 5 feet 6 inches tall, maybe 5 feet 7 inches. There is evidence that many officers were of above average height, and that may have been due to their middle- and upper-class backgrounds, with better-quality and more plentiful food in childhood than the average sailor. Being shorter than today’s average height, they would have found it easier to move about below decks.