Every Man Will Do His Duty

by Dean King

  We had scarcely done with the Invincible when the Phaeton Frigate, Capt. George Bentinck,27 came to take us in tow. This ship had been commanded by Sir Andrew Douglas. Several of my messmates of the Alcide were on board her, from whom I received many hearty congratulations at having escaped with my life. I little thought then that I should command that frigate. It is not many months since I paid her off.28 She was, without exception, one of the best sea boats I have ever had my foot on board. Whilst the frigate was taking us in tow, up came another line of battle ship, the Valiant (I believe Capt. Pringle).29 Her Captain overloaded ours with compliments upon the noble example he had shown to the whole fleet: and among other sayings he insisted that we had sunk an enemy’s ship. This we could not make out. However, it was for a long time the general opinion that we had sent a French 74 to the bottom. But time set this matter at rest. The ship we engaged in breaking the line was called l’Eole. She arrived safe at Brest: consequently, she could not have been sunk by us.

  So soon as the Surgeon could make his report, it appeared that we had 91 men killed and wounded on this day: altogether, in the two actions of May 29 and June 1, twenty killed and eighty wounded.30 One of our Mates, Mr. Elliot,31 was severely wounded in the thigh by a grape shot. He was in the first instance moved into the Captain’s cabin, where I saw him resting on a sofa in great agony, until he could be taken below to the doctor. He had served in the American War, and was a very superior young man. The havoc on board us was terrific. Two of the ports on the larboard side of the main deck were knocked into one by the shot. Only one shot penetrated between wind and water. It came into the bread room on the larboard side and smashed some of the lanterns there, without any serious injury to the ship. The spars upon our booms were sadly cut up. One of our boats, smashed to atoms, was thrown overboard, and, I am sorry to say, many other things were cast into the sea that might have been turned to account. My duty, I thought, was to obey orders, and not to point out the acts of wastefulness I witnessed. No doubt there were many similar ones on board of the other ships. The expense in refitting the fleet must have been immense.

  The number of men thrown overboard that were killed, without ceremony, and the sad wrecks around us taught those who, like myself, had not before witnessed similar scenes that war was the greatest scourge of mankind. The first leisure I had, I went to see the Captain of my gun, who had lost his arm. He was in good spirits, and when I told him we had gained the victory, he replied, “Then I don’t mind the loss of my arm. I am satisfied.” Leaving him, I met a young man who had lost a part of his arm. When I spoke to him he was quite cheerful, not seeming to mind his misfortune. He was eating a piece of buttered biscuit as if nothing had happened. It was a very gratifying circumstance to witness so many acts of heroic bravery that were displayed on board our ship. Patriotic sentences were uttered that would have done honour to the noblest minds: yet these were expressed by the humblest class of men.

  Many of our ships that had slightly suffered in their yards, sails and rigging were all to rights in the afternoon. But the ship that astonished us all by her extraordinary exertions was the Queen. She had lost her main mast. This was replaced in a most able manner before the evening of this day: all her sides were scrubbed, her paintwork looking as clean as if nothing had happened—a good proof of what can be done with good discipline and management. In the evening, boats were sent to remove the crew from the French prize le Vengeur,32 74. She was in a sinking state, and went to the bottom about 10 o’clock. 250 of her men were saved.33

  So soon as I could get hold of the surgeon, I enquired the fate of the two men I had sent him from my quarters. He told me they were both killed! One of them was without the slightest mark of a wound on any part of his body: the other had a bruise across his loins, supposed to have been occasioned by his having come in contact with the bitts34 in his fall. It is therefore clear that they were killed by the wind of a shot. Few persons will believe that the wind of a shot can take away life. But here was proof that it could, and the surgeon was a witness to its having happened. My next question to the doctor was whether he recollected anything of West: if such a person had been to him. He replied that he had; and, upon examining him, he noticed a bruise on the neck. “Yes,” said I, “that was a blow he received from the second captain of his gun with a handspike, for deserting his quarters.” So the Swede told a good story to the surgeon, and remained snug in the cockpit for the remainder of the action.

  Despite the fact that Howe did not prevent the grain-bearing merchant fleet from reaching France, the battle of June 1, 1794, was hailed as “Glorious.” The victory could have been more complete, but it was sound enough to provide a needed morale boost in England. Both houses of Parliament voted their thanks to Howe, his officers, and seamen. On board his ship at Spithead, the king presented Howe with a diamond-hilted sword. June 1 was a highlight of Dillon’s career. Later, events beyond his control would conspire to stall his rise as an officer. But when a much delayed and somewhat dubious opportunity arrived, he grabbed it with zeal (see “An Unequal Match, 1807–1808,” page 185).

  Meanwhile, in July of 1794, Midshipman Gardner, a man of much lighter temperament than Dillon, joined HMS Gorgon in the Mediterranean. For every great sea battle waged by the Royal Navy, there were many more thousands of sea miles logged. Gardner, a sort of seaman’s Chaucer, extracts some very amusing, somewhat ribald, tales from his journey back to England.

  1 Thomas (later Lord) Graves, Capt. 8/7/55; R-Ad. 19/5/79; commanded the British fleet in the unsuccessful action off the Chesapeake, 5/9/1781; V-Ad. 24/9/87; Ad, 12/4/94; Second-in-Command on the First of June, being awarded an Irish peerage for his services on that occasion. [Dictionary of National Biography.]

  2 George Montagu, Capt. 15/4/74; R-Ad. 12/4/94; V-Ad. 1/6/95; Ad. 1/1/1801.

  3 Peter Rainier, Capt. 29/10/78; R-Ad. 1/6/95; V-Ad. 14/2/99; Ad. 9/11/1805.

  4 In consequence of Lord Howe’s failure in capturing the enemy’s ships in the previous November, he had established on this occasion a flying squadron of four sail of the line, constantly stationed on the weather bow of the fleet.

  5 Captain T. Troubridge, taken off Cape Clear, 9/5/94; recaptured later in the same month by the Carysfort, Captain F. Laforey, off the Lizard.

  6 A small enclosed space adjoining each magazine and separated from it by a window fitted with two thicknesses of horn or glass, through which the lantern light could be thrown into the magazine. This obviated the risk of having the light in the room itself.

  7 Five ships—two “of the line”—sent from Brest under Rear-Admiral Van Stabel, 26/12/1793.

  8 Five of the line, under Rear-Admiral Nielly, which left Rochefort, 6/5/1794.

  9 I.e. Rear-Admiral Montagu’s squadron mentioned [previously].

  10“Pasely” in MS.

  11 Which ship had actually struck to the Audacious, but escaped.

  12 W.H.D. is quite right; this was by far the most important result of the day’s fighting.

  13 The younger of the famous brothers Hood; then Vice-Admiral of the Red, and 3rd in command under Lord Howe; created Baron Bridport for his services in this campaign.

  14 Capt. 19/5/66; R-Ad. 1/2/93; V-Ad. 4/7/94; Ad. 14/2/99. Created baronet for services at First of June; and baron, December 1800. Commanded Grand fleet (instead of Cornwallis, who was sick) during part of the Trafalgar campaign (March–June 1805). Died, 1/1/1809.

  15 “Haulyard” in MS.

  16 A most valuable innovation, used by the British but not by the French, and made possible only by the recent introduction into our service of spoons, sponges, rammers and worms with flexible handles. Upon recoil, the guns’ muzzles never came very far inboard, so that the old, rigid-handled loading instruments not only compelled their users to expose their persons, even to climbing half-way out of the ports, but also made it impossible to lower the ports between broadsides. This was a great casualty-preventer, and proved a source of considerable advantage to the British.

&
nbsp; 17 Probably John Dixon, Lt. 10/9/81; not promoted.

  18 Surely an exaggeration; not elsewhere corroborated.

  19 Though much damaged in her famous duel with the Vengeur, she arrived safely at Spithead on June 12.

  20 “Fugal man” in MS. “Soldier placed in front of regiment etc. while drilling to show the motions and time.” Concise Oxford Dictionary.

  21 (Admiral) the Hon. (Sir) George Cranfield Berkeley (G.C.B.), Capt. 12/9/80; R-Ad. 14/2/99;V-Ad. 9/11/1805; Ad. 31/7/10. Lord High Admiral of Portugal, 1810. Died, 1818.

  22 (Sir) Thomas Troubridge (Bart.), Capt. 1/1/83; R-Ad. 23/4/1804. Lost in the Blenheim off Madagascar in February 1807 when en route from India to take up the command at the Cape.

  23 I.e. in 1820, when these letters were written.

  24 Lt. 19/1/71; Cdr. 11/7/76; Capt. 30/4/77; in command of naval forces in Gibraltar during the famous siege; R-Ad. 4/7/94; created baronet for services at First of June; V-Ad. 14/2/99;Ad. 23/4/1804. Died, 14/11/16.

  25 One of several versions of the conversation on the quarter deck of the flagship. The precise truth will probably never be known. What is certain is that it was very widely held in naval circles that Lord Howe erred seriously on the side of over prudence and that his Captain of the fleet exerted his influence in making him do so. That Curtis himself was often prudent to the verge of defeatism seems clear. Cf. Life of Sir Edward Codrington, I,28 et seq.

  26 Capt. 2/3/80; R-Ad. 14/2/99; V-Ad. 13/4/1804; Ad. 31/7/10. Died, 2/2/36.

  27 Should be William Bentinck, Capt. 15/9/83; R-Ad. 9/11/1805.

  28 I.e. in 1820.

  29 Yes. Thomas Pringle; Capt. 25/11/76; R-Ad. 4/7/94.

  30 These figures tally closely with those of other accounts with regard to the “killed”; but, here, the “wounded” are put a good deal higher; Consitt gives 56, Brenton 39. James 36.

  31 Never promoted; died soon after.

  32 This, of course, is the true story, ignoring the well-known “propaganda” version of Barrèrein the National Convention. [On July 10, 1794, Barrère de Vieuzac told the Convention that three British vessels had been sunk and that the Vengeur had gone down firing at the enemy with her colors bravely flying. Implying that the ship had never surrendered, he asserted that the officers and men had preferred death to captivity, cheering for the Republic, for Liberty, and for France as they went to their deaths. Many historians have repeated this story but it was proved false when Vengeur’s captain, Renaudin, and many of his men returned with the true story.]

  33 Certainly not less. Most accounts give considerably more—up to 400. Mahan’s estimate, reached by subtracting the lost from the original complement, is 367. He also gives the relevant part of Barrère’s speech in full. (Fr. Rev. and Empire, I,144.)

  34 Two stout timbers to which the cables are secured on the lower deck.

  James Anthony Gardner

  The Noted Pimp of Lisbon and an Unwanted Promotion in Bull Bay

  1794

  THE SON AND GRANDSON of navy men, James Gardner’s name was carried on the books of various ships from the time he reached five years old. He was at sea by the age of twelve, but with the death of his father at St. Lucia, West Indies, in 1780 and some imprudent demands upon his naval benefactors, his advancement through the ranks was slow. At the time of this passage, which begins off Corsica in the Gulf of St. Florent (San Fiorenzo), he is a twenty-four-year-old midshipman.

  IN JULY 1794 I joined the Gorgon, Captain James Wallis, at St. Fiorenzo, and after considerable delay sailed for Gibraltar with the convoy bound for England under Vice-Admiral P. Cosby, who had his flag on board the Alcide, 74. The following men of war, to the best of my recollection, in company: Alcide, 74 (Vice-Admiral Cosby); Commerce de Marseilles,1 136; Gorgon, 44; Pearl,1 36; Topaze,1 36; St. Fiorenzo, 36; Modeste, 32.

  At the time we left Corsica we had forty-seven French prisoners on board. One of them could play the violin remarkably well. One morning on the forecastle, this man was reading to some of his comrades, and having his violin with him, Mr. Duncan (our late master in the Berwick) requested him to play Çα Ira, which he for some time refused, being fearful of giving offence.2 At last he struck up the Marseilles hymn accompanied by his voice, which was very good, and when he came to that part “Aux armes, Citoyens, formez vos bataillons,” etc., he seemed inspired; he threw up his violin half way up the foremast, caught it again, pressed it to his breast, and sung out “Bon, Çα Ira,” in which he was joined by his comrades.

  Fired with the song the French grew vain,

  Fought all their battles o’er again,

  And thrice they routed all their foes; and thrice they slew the slain;

  and seemed ready and willing for any mischief. But our soldiers were called up and the French were sent below, and not so many allowed to be on deck at a time.

  On the passage we were frequently sent as a whipper-in among the convoy. On one occasion, a master of a merchantman was rather slack in obeying the signal and gave tongue when hailed; upon which Captain Wallis sent the first lieutenant and myself to take charge of his vessel. It was in the evening, blowing fresh, with a heavy sea, and we had great difficulty in getting on board; our boat cut as many capers as a swing at a fair, and in returning got stove alongside. We remained all night on board and had to prick for the softest plank. When Edgar, the first lieutenant, awoke in the morning, it was laughable to hear him exclaim, “God bass ’e” (for he could not say “blast ye,” and for this he was nicknamed little Bassey) “What’s got hold of me?” The fact was the night was hot, and the pitch in the seams waxed warm, and when he attempted to rise, he found his hair fastened to the deck and his nankin trowsers also. He put me in mind of Gulliver when fastened to the ground by the Liliputians. Captain Wallis having sent for us, we took this chap in tow. It blew very fresh, and the wind being fair, we towed him, under double reefed topsails and foresail, nine knots through the water, so that his topsails were wet with the spray. The master would sometimes run forward and hail, saying, “I’ll cut the hawser”; and Captain Wallis would reply, “If you do, I’m damned if I don’t sink you, you skulking son of a bitch; I mean to tow you until I work some buckets of tar out of the hawser.”

  Our admiral (Cosby) was a glorious fellow for keeping the convoy in order, and if they did not immediately obey the signal, he would fire at them without further ceremony.

  We had a very pleasant passage to Gibraltar, where we remained some time in the New Mole, and then started for Cadiz to take in money and to join the convoy assembling there for England. While lying at Gibraltar a Portuguese frigate arrived, and one of our midshipmen (Jennings, a wag) was sent on board with a message from Captain Wallis. Having stayed a long time, the signal was made for the boat, and when she returned the captain asked Jennings what detained him. “Why, sir, to tell you the truth, saving your presence” (for Jennings was a shrewd Irishman), “the commanding officer of the frigate was so busy lousing himself on the hen-coop that I could not get an answer before.”

  ON THE PASSAGE we got on shore a few leagues to the southward of Cadiz, and had very near taken up our quarters on the shoals, and, what was remarkable, a frigate had been sent before us for the same purpose, but got on shore in this place, and was obliged to return, and we (being clever) after laughing at the circumstance, were sent to repair her errors and went bump on shore on the very spot.

  When we arrived at Cadiz to join the convoy and to bring home dollars, the merchants used to smuggle the money off to the ship to avoid paying the duty; and for every hundred taken on board, they would give as a premium two dollars and sometimes two and a half. It was a dangerous traffic, but very tempting; and some of our officers while lying there made sixty and others eighty pounds. On one occasion, my old shipmate, Lieutenant Chantrell, fell down in the street with six hundred dollars at his back—a moderate load—and sung out to some of the Spaniards who were looking on, “Come here, you sons of, and help me up.” Had they known what he had at his back they wou
ld have helped him up to some purpose; imprisonment and slavery would have been the punishment. The manner they carried the dollars was this. A double piece of canvas made to contain them in rows, fixed to the back inside the waistcoat, and tied before. It was to an English hotel where they were sent to be shipped. This house was kept by Mr., or rather Mrs., Young, an infernal vixen, who would make nothing of knocking her husband down with a leg of mutton or any other joint she had in the larder, and he fool enough to put up with it. She used to charge us very high for our entertainment, which is the case in all English houses abroad; and if you have a mind to be treated fairly you must go to a house kept by a native, who will never impose on you. Having got a load of dollars to take off, we found our boat had left the landing place; so we hired a shore boat, and it appeared their custom house officers had suspicions, for they gave chase, and it was by uncommon exertion that we escaped, as they were nearly up with us when we got alongside. And yet those very men who would have seized us used to smuggle. I saw one of them come alongside and throw into the lower-deck port a bag of dollars containing, as I understood, a thousand, with a label on the bag, and then shove off his boat to row guard and prevent smuggling!