by C. H. Layman
From five in the evening we were obliged to sit in the dark; and if we chose to have any supper, it was necessary to place it very near us before that time, or we never could have found it. We had passed seven or eight days in this melancholy manner, when one morning a kind of row-gaily came alongside with a number of English prisoners, belonging to two large privateers the French had taken. We were ordered into the same boat with them, and were carried four leagues up the river to Landerneau. At this town we were upon our parole; so we took the best lodgings we could get, and lived very well for three months.
Chapter 23
Home, and a Voice from the Dead
Landerneau, near Brest, November 1745. There is a frustrating delay for the three prisoners, during which Captain Cheap writes home. Orders arrive from Madrid that they are free to go. They take passage in an unreliable Dutch dogger. Arrived at Dover, Byron has insufficient money and is obliged to force his way through the turnpikes on the road to London. He reaches his sister’s house in Soho Square, where the porter is reluctant to admit such a disreputable-looking character. Finally he joins his sister, who had thought him dead for five years.
From Captain Cheap’s letters & Midshipman Byron’s narrative
Captain Cheap, Midshipman Byron and Lieutenant Hamilton of the Marines spent two months at Landerneau while the French authorities checked with Madrid that the prisoners could be released under the exchange arrangements. It must have been a frustrating delay for three men who for five years had had their endurance tested to the limit. During this period Captain Cheap wrote two letters:
To Thomas Corbett Esquire
Secretary to the Admiralty
12th December 1745, Landerneau
Sir,
You have the trouble of this to desire you’ll be pleased to inform Their Lordships that Mr Hamilton, a Lieutenant in Colonel Lowther’s regiment of marines, Mr Byron who was a midshipman in the Wager, and myself were brought prisoners to Brest in a French ship that sailed from Valparaiso the beginning of March last. We arrived about six weeks ago, and seven or eight days afterwards were sent here by the Intendant in order to be kept (as I am told) until they have directions from the Spanish court how to dispose of us.
It would far exceed the bounds of a letter to give you a detail of the unhappy loss of His Majesty’s Ship and the consequence that attended it; therefore I forbear to enter on the subject. But I flatter myself, when I shall have the good fortune to return home, that my conduct will appear unblamable both before and after our shipwreck.
As we have been prisoners so long I hope Their Lordships will be pleased to use their good offices to get us exchanged as soon as possible.
I have the honour to be,
Sir,
Your most obedient humble servant,
David Cheap
On the same day he wrote to his former captain, George Anson, who had returned home some eighteen months before. Anson’s flagship, the Centurion, was the only ship of the squadron to sail round the world and come back intact. David Cheap had started the voyage as the First Lieutenant, and having been promoted by Anson to command could certainly expect his patronage and support. He therefore wrote to him in terms which in the flowery language of the day would not have seemed as obsequious as they do today:
12th December 1745, Landerneau
Sir,
I should be unpardonable if I let slip this opportunity, which is the first that I have had, of congratulating you on your safe arrival in your native country after so tedious and fatiguing a voyage, and your having obtained the preferment you so justly deserve in the opinion of all mankind. Even your enemies speak well of you – I mean the enemies of Great Britain for I believe you have no personal ones – and at the same time I take the liberty to assure you that no man on earth wishes your prosperity with a warmer heart than I do.
You are no doubt already informed of some of our misfortunes, because I have been told that some of the officers and men are got home, but they know only a few of them and probably have not told the truth. For what can be expected of such poltroons who rather than do their duty by endeavouring to join you (which might easily have been done) and look the enemy in the face, chose to expose themselves to the fatigue of so long a navigation and perishing of hunger, after most inhumanly abandoning us and destroying at their departure everything they thought could be of any use to us that they could not carry with them.
However, sir, I will say no more upon that head until I have the happiness of seeing you. Only give me leave to add that if the rest of the marine officers had done their duty as well as Mr Hamilton, who is here with me, I have very good grounds to believe I should have brought the mutineers to reason. And although we are unluckily miscarried in that and some subsequent projects, yet I hope you will be persuaded it was not for want of inclination.
You will see by the letter that I wrote to Mr Secretary Corbett the time of our sailing from Chile and arrival at Brest, and the Intendant sending us here to await the result of the Court of Spain which we daily expect; and hope it will bring us leave to return home. But if we should be disappointed and kept longer here, I must beg your favour and protection which I flatter myself I shall have whilst I behave myself as I ought, and when I behave otherwise I shall expect neither.
Some time before we left Chile the Jesuits offered us what money we wanted and said it was by order of their General at Rome. I do not know from what quarter the credit came; however, we took no more than we wanted to pay off a debt we had contracted with one of the supercargoes of the ship, which was 900 pieces-of-eight.
Messrs Byron and Hamilton (my two faithful companions and fellow sufferers) beg leave to kiss your hand, and I am,
Sir,
Your most humble and obedient servant,
David Cheap
Byron’s narrative now brings them home:
Landerneau, 5th February 1746. Then an order came from the Court of Spain to allow us to return home by the first ship that offered. Upon this, hearing there was a Dutch ship at Morlaix ready to sail, we took horses and travelled to that town, where we were obliged to remain six weeks, before we had an opportunity of getting away. At last we agreed with the master of a Dutch dogger[30] to land us at Dover, and paid him beforehand. When we had got down the river into the road, a French privateer that was almost ready to sail upon a cruise hailed the Dutchman, and told him to come to an anchor; and that if he offered to sail before him, he would sink him.[31] This he was forced to comply with, and we lay three days in the road, cursing the Frenchman, who at the end of that time put to sea, and then we were at liberty to do the same. We had a long uncomfortable passage.
About the ninth day before sunset we saw Dover, and reminded the Dutchman of his agreement to land us there. He said he would; but instead of that, in the morning we were off the coast of France.
We complained loudly of this piece of villainy and insisted upon his returning to land us, when an English man-of-war appeared to windward, and presently bore down to us. She sent her boat on board with an officer, who informed us the ship he came from was the Squirrel, commanded by Captain Masterson. We went on board of her, and Captain Masterson immediately sent one of the cutters he had with him to land us at Dover, where we arrived that afternoon, and directly set out for Canterbury upon post-horses; but Captain Cheap was so tired by the time he got there that he could proceed no further that night.
The next morning he still found himself so much fatigued that he could ride no longer. Therefore it was agreed that he and Mr Hamilton should take a post-chaise and that I should ride; but here an unlucky difficulty was started, for upon sharing the little money we had it was found to be not sufficient to pay the charges to London; and my proportion fell so short that it was, by calculation, barely enough to pay for horses, without a farthing for eating a bit upon the road, or even for the very turnpikes. Those I was obliged to defraud by riding as hard as I could through them all, not paying the least regard to the men who called
out to stop me. The want of refreshment I bore as well as I could.
When I got to the Borough I took a coach and drove to Marlborough Street, where my friends had lived when I left England, but when I came there I found the house shut up. Having been absent so many years, and in all that time never having heard a word from home, I knew not who was dead or who was living, or where to go next; or even how to pay the coachman.
I recollected a linen-draper’s shop not far from thence, which our family had used. I therefore drove there next, and making myself known, they paid the coachman. I then inquired after our family, and was told my sister had married Lord Carlisle and was at that time in Soho Square. I immediately walked to the house and knocked at the door; but the porter not liking my figure, which was half French, half Spanish, with the addition of a large pair of boots covered with dirt, he was going to shut the door in my face, but I prevailed with him to let me come in.
I need not acquaint my readers with what surprise and joy my sister received me. She immediately furnished me with money sufficient to appear like the rest of my countrymen; till that time I could not be properly said to have finished all the extraordinary scenes which a series of unfortunate adventures had kept me in for the space of five years and upwards.
Soho Square, where Midshipman Byron had a dramatic reunion with his sister, Lady Carlisle, on 14th or 15th March 1746.
This view, dated 1731, looks north, and the fine open country in the background indicates why Soho received its hunting-cry name. Carlisle House, now demolished, can be seen on the right and south of the break in the houses caused by Sutton Street (now Sutton Row).
1 Release.
2 These were the men who had deserted the main party some months before and set up a camp on their own.
3 Telescope.
4 Capture and make away with her.
5 Cabo Tres Montes. See chart on p186.
6 See p193.
7 Kelp.
8 Small anchor.
9 Nothing more is heard of these gallant fellows, but their names – Corporal Crosslet, Marines Smith, Hales and Hereford – are commemorated on the chart to this day as the names of a group of islands called Islas Marinas.
10 Even today this part of the Chilean coast is extremely inaccessible. Many villages have access only to the sea, and some villages have only paths that are simply wooden walkways along the shoreline. See p286.
11 Now Isla Javier. See p186.
12 Both Captain Cheap and Lieutenant Hamilton were determined and difficult men. Cheap had shown it all along, and Hamilton had been removed from the Centurion because of a quarrel with another marine officer. He was to show his intransigence again on this nightmare journey when he had a major disagreement with the Indian guide. In the end he and Cheap were reconciled.
13 Chief.
14 Now this bay is called “Caleta Elliot”. See p186.
15 Golfo San Esteban.
16 Rio San Taddeo, largely fed by melt-water from the adjacent glaciers. See p198.
17 In 1829 Lieutenant Skyring of HMS Adelaide, one of Fitzroy’s small squadron which included the famous Beagle, followed Byron’s route up this river. Skyring’s report matches Byron’s description closely.
18 Laguna San Rafael.
19 The Anna pink had been driven on to the land in continuous gales about 100 miles north of Wager Island in May 1741. She dragged her anchor towards the lee-shore, but managed to find shelter in an unexpected inlet that suddenly opened up in the rocky coast. She remained there two months repairing damage, and then rejoined the Commodore in Juan Fernandez.
20 Byron must here be mistaken. Estuario Elefantes, the long channel in which they were now travelling north, is never closer than 45 nautical miles to where the Anna took refuge, called today on the chart Bahia Anna Pink.
21 A generic name for climbing shrubs with tough pliable stems, evidently here used as twine.
22 Relations.
23 This laconic statement would have been full of significance to eighteenth-century readers. For a naval officer, converting to Catholicism in 1744 would have been something like joining the Communist Party in 1960, and a bar to public office, including in normal circumstances being a naval officer. At that date the Pope did not recognise the Hanoverian dynasty as lawful rulers of Great Britain, and the Catholic Church claimed civil jurisdiction in some respects.
In fact Campbell had entirely gone over to the enemy, a fact which can be verified as the story unfolds. His reception on reaching Buenos Aires was quite different from that of other prisoners of war, and this difference was even more marked when they arrived in Spain together and the others were treated brutally (see above p158-9.) His later career is summarised on p267-268.
24 An exchange of prisoners of war had been negotiated between Great Britain and Spain.
25 Money was normally a pressing problem for distressed mariners, but the prisoners in Santiago managed to obtain loans through the kindness of Spanish officers and a British businessman. At this date the Captain’s total expenditure was £65, Hamilton’s £53, and Byron’s £83.
26 Haiti
27 Now Cap Haitien, Haiti.
28 Northwest Spain.
29 The official in charge of the port.
30 Fishing boat, as used in the North Sea off the Dogger Bank.
31 This threat was presumably made to avoid intelligence of the privateer’s departure being passed to a patrolling British warship.
Part 5
Consequences at Home
Chapter 24
The Shadow of Mutiny
The Wager survivors straggled back to England over a period of three and a half years. Baynes and his party were first. He had managed to send a letter home from Barbados, and parts of it were published in The Gentleman’s Magazine in September 1742:
Having rounded Cape Horn we were separated by a violent storm from the Commodore, and in the night our ship bilged on the east side of an island in latitude 47:08 S, which we judged to be the island of Chiloé. All that were sick between decks were drowned, but the Captain and 31[1]1 more of us got safe to the island, where the natives brought us refreshments several times. The Captain was for staying to see if Commodore Anson might not call there and take us in, but the majority being for going away in the long-boat, dissensions arose, and the Captain shot one of the most mutinous dead on the spot. Having afterwards lengthened the long-boat by pieces of the wreck, and stowed some provisions in her, the greatest part went aboard, leaving the Captain and some others behind. After having passed the Straits of Magellan, meeting with almost insurmountable difficulties, we arrived safe at Rio de Janeiro; from whence we were brought in His Majesty’s ship the Advice to Barbados.
This was the first news anybody at home had had of the Wager for two years.
Baynes returned in November 1742, having passed through Lisbon where, as we have seen, he gave out a version of events which blamed Bulkeley. On arrival in England he reported to the Admiralty, and his astonishing story of shipwreck, starvation, shooting, and abandonment must have been very badly received. He was ordered to write down what had happened, and was then examined by a Board of Officers consisting of “three commanders of ships, persons of distinguished merit and honour.” Accounts refer to it both as a Court of Enquiry and a Board of Enquiry.
Bulkeley states that at this enquiry Baynes accused him of making away with the long-boat and leaving the Captain behind. It is regrettable that no documentation has come to light. It would be interesting to see how Baynes could have attempted to exonerate himself and blame Bulkeley when he had been the senior officer present, and had actually taken a part (albeit a shadowy and indecisive one) in the arrest of the Captain.
The Boatswain was also examined, and a somewhat wild account of this appeared in Aris’s Birmingham Gazette on 3rd January 1743:
On Thursday Mr King, Boatswain of the Wager storeship, and 13 others belonging to the said ship, which was one of Commodore Anson’s squadron, and was lost in the So
uth Sea, were before the Lords of the Admiralty, and gave their Lordships an account of their sufferings, they being several days at sea on a frame made out of the wreck of the said ship.
Already public interest was being aroused by the Wager story, and the still-continuing Anson expedition of which it was a part.
At exactly this moment HMS Stirling Castle returned home, and communications between the Admiralty and Spithead must have worked fast because the three warrant officers, Bulkeley, Cummins, and Young, were confined on board while the Board of Enquiry examined Baynes and King. The warrant officers were detained two weeks on board, which after a two-year absence and within sight of their own homes must have been hard to bear. They were then allowed ashore, and subsequently reported to the Board with their own account of events, refuting such allegations against them as had been made by Baynes.
This extract from the muster book shows the Admiralty’s attempt to account for all personnel lost in the Wager disaster, including “Heny. Cusens Midsn. Shot by the Captain about the end of June 1741.”
The Admiralty was then faced with a confused and incomplete disaster story that included the likelihood of mutiny and an allegation of murder. The few survivors were at odds with each other and giving contradictory and mutually incriminating reports. Not unreasonably, judgment was reserved until Commodore Anson or Captain Cheap should come home. No arrears of pay would be allowed to any of the survivors until the whole matter had been clarified.