On shore—Tired of inactivity—Apply for a ship—Appointed to H.M.S. Minotaur (74)—Prisoners sent on board as part of crew—Go to Plymouth—Scarcity of seamen—Ruse to impress an Irish farm labourer—Ordered to join the Channel fleet off Ushant—Capture French thirty-six-gun ship—In danger off Ushant—Capture two small French ships and one Dutch one: author sent to Plymouth in charge of the latter—Placed in quarantine.

After I had remained in noisy, bustling, crowded and disagreeable London a month, my mother wishing to go into Surrey, I was glad of the opportunity to accompany her and to breathe purer air, and left town without regret.

I was now under my own orders, and was much puzzled to find out how I was to obey myself. For the last ten years I had been under the control of superiors. Now I had the whole of my crew within myself, and discipline I found was necessary. I knew no more of England than it knew of me. Men and manners were equally strange to me, except those on board the different men-of-war I had served in, and they were not the most polished. In the society of the fair sex I was exceedingly shy, and my feelings were sometimes painful when I had to run the gauntlet through rows of well-dressed women, some looking as demure as a noddy at the [pg 183]masthead. I was now in my twenty-third year, and an agreeable—nay, an old lady, whose word was considered sacred—declared I was a charming young man. My life passed as monotonously as that of a clock in an old maid’s sitting-room. My habits were too active to remain long in this state of listlessness. I was almost idle enough to make love, and nearly lost my heart seven times. Caring little for the society of the men, I generally strolled over two or three fields to read my books, or to scribble sonnets on a plough, for I began to be sentimental and plaintive. Whilst meditating one morning in bed, I started up with a determination to have an interview with Sir J. Colpoys, who was one of the Lords of the Admiralty, and ask him in person for employment, for I began to be apprehensive if I remained longer on shore I should think a ship was something to eat, and the bobstay the top-sail haulyards. Three weeks after my application I was appointed to the Minotaur of seventy-four guns lying at Blackstakes, and I found it black enough, for she not having her masts stepped, we were all obliged—that is the officers—to live at the “Tap” at Shurnasty, commonly called Sheerness, where we spent thirteen out of six shillings a day, and until the ship was ready to receive us, which was nearly a fortnight, we drank elevation to the noble Secretary of the Admiralty, for, owing to his ignorance, we had been obliged to spend seven shillings daily more than our pay.

Two days after the ship was commissioned, and [pg 184]I had been carrying on the war, for I was the senior lieutenant, the gallant captain made his appearance. After touching his hat in return to my grand salaam, he said, “Hulloa, how is this? I expected to find the ship masted. I will thank you to desire the boatswain to turn the hands up to hear my commission read, and quartermaster,” addressing a dockyard matey, “go down and tell all the officers I am on board.”

“That is not a quartermaster,” said I to him, “he is one of the dockyard men.” “Then where are the quartermasters?” “We have none,” replied I, “nor have we a seaman on board except some one-legged and one-armed old Greenwich pensioners that were sent on board yesterday.” At this satisfactory intelligence he turned his eyes up like a crow in a thunderstorm, and muttered, I fear, something in the shape of a prayer for the whole Board of Admiralty. Whilst we were looking at each other not knowing what to say next, a man came up the hatchway to report that one of the Greenwich men had broken his leg. “Where is the surgeon?” said the captain. “He has not yet joined,” replied I. “We must send him to the dockyard for surgical aid. Man the boat, and you, Mr. Brown, take him on shore,” said I. Mr. Brown made one of his best bows, and acquainted me that it was the carpenter who was wanted and not the surgeon, as the man had snapped his wooden leg in one of the holes of the grating, and the carpenter’s mate was fishing it. After a pause of some minutes, “So,” [pg 185]resumed the captain, “this is the manner King’s ships are to be fitted out. Why, it will take us a month of Sundays before the lower masts are rigged. What the devil did they send those old codgers with their wooden legs here for? I will go immediately to the Admiral, and point out the state we are in.” In the afternoon another lieutenant joined the ship, junior to me. I began to think I should be the first, when on the following day I was unshipped, for two others came on board by some years my seniors. The captain also sent four young mids on board and the Admiralty two oldsters, one of whom was a sprig of nobility. On the morning of the fourth day we were masted, and a lighter came alongside filled with riggers from London, and soon afterwards we received our complement of marines, with a captain and two lieutenants. We were now beginning to get animated and to make some show, when, as I was giving an order to the boatswain, Mr. Brown, whom I ought to have introduced before as the gunner, reported a barge coming alongside with prisoners. “That is surely a mistake,” replied I; “I hope they do not take us for the prison ship.” Bump she came, stern on. “Hulloa!” I called out; “do you wish to try what the bends are made of?” Before I could say anything more, up came and stood before me, cocked-up hat in hand, a consequential, dapper little stout man dressed in black, with his hair in powder. “Please you, sir, I have brought, by the order of the magistrates at Maidstone, [pg 186]fifteen men to belong to your ship. They be all of them tolerable good men, except five, who have been condemned to be transported, and two to be hung, but as they be contrabanders like, the Government have sent down orders for ’em to be sent on board your ship.” “I am sure,” said I, “I can in the name of His Majesty’s officers offer many thanks to His Majesty’s Government for their great consideration in sending men who deserve hanging to be made sailors on board His Majesty’s ships.” He then, with a flourish, presented me a paper with their names and the offences of which they had been guilty. Nine of these honest, worthy members of society were stout, robust fellows, and had only taken what did not belong to them. Two of the remaining six had been condemned for putting brave citizens in bodily fear on the King’s highway and borrowing their purses and watches. The other four were smugglers bold, who wished to oblige their friends with a few hundreds of yards of Brussels lace and gloves, as well as some tubs of brandy, but were unfortunately interrupted in the exercise of their profession by those useless sea-beach cruisers called the Coast Guard. “Pray, sir,” said I, “to whom may I be obliged to for the safe conveyance of these honest men?” “I be the under-sheriff’s officer, sir,” answered he, “and I have had mighty hard work to bring them along.” “You deserve to be rewarded, Mr. Deputy Sheriff” (for I like to give every man his title), said I; “you would probably [pg 187]like to have a glass of grog.” “Why it’s thirsty weather, and I shall be obliged to you, sir.” I called the steward, desired he might have some refreshment, and he soon after quitted the ship, admonishing the live cargo he brought on board, who were still on the quarter-deck, to behave themselves like good men. A month had expired by the time the top-gallant masts were on end. We had received all our officers and two hundred men from Chatham and the river. At length, Greenwich pensioners, riggers, and dockyard mateys took their departure, to our great satisfaction, as it was impossible to bring the ship’s crew into discipline whilst they were on board. Our complement, including the officers, was six hundred and forty men. We had only three hundred and twenty when orders came down for us to proceed to Plymouth. The captain and first lieutenant looked very wise on this occasion, and were apprehensive that if the ship slipped the bridles she would be like an unruly horse, and run away with us, for there were only forty men on board who knew how to go aloft except a few of the marines. The pilot made his appearance, and soon afterwards down went the bridles, and we were fairly adrift. We reached the Nore, and let go the anchors in a hail squall, and it was with the greatest difficulty we got the top-sails furled. The admiral, having proof positive that we were as helpless as a cow in a jolly-boat, took compassion on us and sent fifty more men from the flag-ship, most of them able [pg 188]seamen. On the fourth day after quitting the Nore we anchored in Plymouth Sound.

I now had the delightful opportunity of once more breathing my native air, viewing beautiful Mount Edgcumbe, revelling in clotted cream and potted pilchards, tickling my palate—as Quin used to do—with John-dories, conger eels, star-gazey and squab pies, cray-fish, and sometimes, but not very often—for my purse was only half-flood in consequence of my expenses whilst on shore at the “Tap” at Sheerness—I had a drive upon Dock. The flag-ship in Hamoaze was the Salvador del Mundo, a three-decker taken from the Spaniards in the memorable battle of the fourth of February. The day after anchoring I was ordered by the captain to go with him on board the Sally-waiter-de-Modo. I reflected a short time, and not knowing there was such a ship on the Navy List, turned to the first lieutenant and asked him if he had heard of such a man-of-war. “No,” said he, smiling, “the captain chooses to call her so; he means the flag-ship.” On repairing on board her, my commander said to me, “You help me to look at those fellows’ phizes,” pointing to a number of men who were toeing the seam on her quarter-deck. “I am to take thirty of them; they are queer-looking chaps, and I do not much like the cut of their jib. But mind,” added he, “don’t take any one that has not a large quid of tobacco in his cheek.”

I went up to the second man, who had a double [pg 189]allowance of Virginia or some other weed in his gill, the captain following me. “Well, my man,” said I, “how long have you been to sea?” “Four months,” was the reply. “Why, you d——d rascal,” said our skipper—for observe, reader, he never swore—“what the devil business have you with such a quantity of tobacco in your mouth? I thought you were an old sailor.” “No, sir,” answered the man, “my trade is a tailor, but I have chawed bacca from my infancy.” “Question another,” was my order. I interrogated the next, who was a short, slight, pale-faced man. “And pray,” said I, “what part of the play have you been performing; were you ever at sea?” “No, sir,” said he; “I am a hairdresser, and was pressed a week ago.” “D——n these fellows!” said my captain; “they are all tailors, barbers, or grass-combers. I want seamen.”

“Then,” said Captain N., who was the flag-captain, and had just come on board, “I much fear you will be disappointed. These are the only disposable men, and it’s Hobson’s choice—those or none.”

“The admiral promised me some good seamen,” returned my skipper, rather quickly. “Then I fear the admiral must find them,” was the answer, “as I have not more than twenty seamen on board besides the petty officers. The last were drafted a few days ago in the Defiance. Will you take any of these men, Captain W.?” “What do you think,” said my captain to me; “shall we take any of [pg 190]them?” “Suppose,” returned I, “we take twenty of them and the tailor; they will all fit in in time.” I then picked out twenty of the best, who were bad enough, as they were the worst set I ever saw grouped. Their appearance and dress were wretched in the extreme. I reached the ship before the hour of dinner with my live cargo. “What, more hard bargains,” said the first lieutenant, “we have too many clodhoppers on board already. The captain told me we were to have seamen.” “Ca............