The ship arrives—Captain’s attempt to form a band—Sail again—Attacked by rheumatic fever and invalided ashore—Ordered to join H.M.S. Tonnant—Proceed to Mediterranean—At Oran: experiences ashore.
The ship anchored at Cawsand Bay four days afterwards, when we joined her, leaving the prizes in charge of the agent. I found her with the yellow flag flying at the masthead. She had been put in quarantine on her arrival, which we paid off with the foretop-sail, as we sailed the day after for a six weeks’ cruise in the chops of the Channel. At the end of that period we returned to our anchorage with another French brig laden with Colonial produce. Our gallant and would-be musical captain consulted us all respecting harmonious sounds, but, alas! we were weighed in the musical balance and found wanting. This, however, did not discourage him. Nine of the crew came forward with three of the marines, offering themselves as candidates for the band. The captain, after having consulted one of the sergeants of marines, who played the hautboy, whether anything might be made of the men who had come forward as musicians, it was determined [pg 200]nem. con. that a pease-barrel should be manufactured into a big drum, that two ramrods should be metamorphosed into triangles, that the two bassoons and the hautboy taken in the French frigate should be brought into action without loss of time, that the marine and ship’s fifer, with the marine drummer, should be drilled with the others, under the direction of the sergeant, in the captain’s cabin twice a day, and a horrible confusion of unmusical sounds they made for more than six weeks. The skipper was in his glory, and everybody else amazed. Some of my messmates prayed for them heartily, particularly the first lieutenant, who thought the captain musically mad. The mids declared they never would be respectable enough to be called a band, but would be bad enough to be called a banditti, as they looked more like brigands than musicians.
We had nearly completed our water and stores, when I was ordered to the dockyard with the launch for the remainder and two anchor-stocks. It was blowing fresh, and in consequence I desired the leaves of the anchor-stock to be triced up under the oars outside the boat, that in case of shipping a sea we might be able, if necessary, to cut them away. The last leaf was lowered down to the boat, when I felt a touch on my shoulder. I turned quickly round, when my nose, which is not very short, came in rude contact with a cocked hat, which it nearly knocked off the head of the wearer. It was the admiral, who was in stature a King [pg 201]John’s man, four feet nothing. I immediately pulled off my hat and apologised. “What are you doing, sir,” said he to me, “with these anchor-stocks?” “Tricing them up outside the boat, sir,” replied I. “Why do you not boat them?” I explained my reasons for not doing so. After a short pause, he said, “You are perfectly right. What ship do you belong to?” I informed him. He wished me good evening, and I repaired on board. The morning after we sailed, and in three days we joined the Channel fleet under Lord Gardner. For two long, lingering months we had our patience exercised, jogging backwards and forwards like a pig on a string. The Prince was our leader, and the ship astern of us the Spartiate. The former sailed like a haystack, the latter like a witch, and the sailors declared she was built of stolen wood, as she always sailed best at night. One squally night I was lieutenant of the middle watch, when the Prince split her maintop-sail, and we were in consequence obliged to show a light astern and shorten sail. The Spartiate shot up, and was nearly on board of us. The captain, hearing a bustle, was soon on deck. “What are the fleet about?” asked he. “What is the matter with that beastly Prince?” I informed him. “And what the devil is the Spartang doing on our weather quarter?”
“Why,” replied I, “if the Prince and the Spartiate could divide their sailing, we should do very well; but we are very critically placed, being [pg 202]constantly obliged to shorten sail for the former, for fear of pooping her, and in so doing we are in our turn in danger of being pooped by the latter.”
“Have you showed a light to the Spartang?” demanded he, for he always called her by that unheard-of name. I answered in the affirmative. “D——n that Prince,” resumed he, “she ought to be ordered out of the line. When I go on board the admiral, I will report her.” The ships again fell into their stations, and the captain took his in his cot. It was now the depth of winter, and the weather very severe. I had caught cold which confined me to my cot, and when we arrived at Plymouth I had a violent rheumatic fever. I was carried on shore to sick quarters in blankets, and before I was sufficiently recovered the ship sailed.
When I was strong enough I requested permission from the admiral to go to London, which was granted. I had a run in the country for a few months, for I soon got tired of noisy, smoky London. Soon after this I was informed by the Admiralty that I was superseded in the last ship, and ordered to Portsmouth to join the Tonnant, an eighty-four. A few days after receiving my commission, I joined this glorious ship of ships. When I took a perspective view of her gun-decks, I thought her an equal match for any ship afloat, and so she certainly was, and nobly proved it afterwards. Her gallant commander, Captain Troubridge, was from the Emerald Isle; had a slight touch of the brogue, and was replete with anecdote; he was good-humoured [pg 203]and a gentleman, and he never punished a man unless he richly deserved it. My messmates were all young men, and generally speaking well informed, with the exception of the master, who was a countryman of mine, and desperately fond of doggerel verse as well as cray-fish and conger eels.
We were again destined to make one of the Channel fleet, when to our great joy, after tacking and half-tacking for six weeks, we were ordered with some more ships of the line under Admiral Collingwood to proceed off Cadiz to watch the motions of the Spanish and French fleets, after the scratch they had with our fleet under Sir R. F. Calder. We occasionally ran into Gibraltar for refreshments and stores. On one of these occasions the Port-Admiral took it into his head to hoist his flag on board of one of the active ships, and ordered us with two others to make sail out of the harbour. As we were not acquainted with his object, we presumed he wanted to purify his constitution by a strong sea-breeze; if so, he was disappointed, as it fell calm two hours after we cleared Europa Point, and during the night we were under the shells and shot of Ceuta, which fortunately fell harmless. The day after we reached our former anchorage at Gibraltar, where we found Sir Richard Bickerton, who took us under his orders to cruise off Carthagena, where three Spanish line of battle ships were lying ready for sea.
On our way thither we anchored in Oran roads to procure bullocks for the squadron. As [pg 204]soon as the sails were furled a Turkish officer, dressed something like that figure of fun called Punch, came on board us, as we were the nearest ship, to inquire if the fort saluted us what number of guns would be fired in return. We referred him to the flag-ship; he took his departure with his interpreter who spoke broken English. About 1 p.m., whack came a large shot from the fort nearly into the bow, and presently several more. At first, as shot were fired so close to us, we could not exactly tell what was intended until the nineteenth shot was fired, when the battery was silent. The flag-ship returned seventeen guns. On inquiry we found that these barbarians always salute with shot, and endeavour to send them as near you as possible by way of compliment.
About 3 p.m. three principal Turkish officers came on board, the youngest of whom was the commander or governor of the town. The purser, who had been eyeing him with a wicked look, said to us, &l............