Every Man Will Do His Duty (4 page)

We came up with them early in the morning, our people all eager for battle; but when daylight appeared (which was waited for, knowing they could not escape our superior sailing), we were much disappointed in seeing them hoist Portuguese colours; so we sent a boat to board the frigate, and found they were from Goa, and bound to another port in the Portuguese settlements on this coast; so we let them proceed, but could not help laughing to see their seamen going aloft dressed with stuffed clothes, cocked hats, and some with boots on.

The
Minerva
was under good discipline, and, had we had an experienced captain to carry on the duty, should have been more comfortable; but
he was too young—had come out with the admiral on this station a midshipman, and in the course of three or four years had got made a post captain when only nineteen years of age; he could work the ship very well, and that was all. Not a word was to be spoken in wearing or tacking the ship except from the commanding officer; everything was done as silently as possible, and the boatswain’s pipe just loud enough to be heard, the admiral not allowing the side to be piped for him or any other officer; they were not to be whistled in like dogs.

Not an oath was allowed to be spoken, but as there were so many new pressed men in the ship it was almost impossible to avoid it, and when any was heard to swear their names were put on a list, and at seven next morning were punished, though not severely, few getting more than seven or eight lashes; yet it was galling, and how I escaped God only knows, for my name had been put on the list several times, and I suppose it must have been through the kindness of my good friend Mr. Robinson, the first lieutenant.

Though the punishment was light, it displeased the men very much, who had not had time to divest themselves of this new crime they had been so long accustomed to, and was nearly attended with serious consequence. Every evening, weather permitting, it was customary for the people to have a dance, and one of these evenings the lanthorns were lighted as usual, and hung on each side of the launch, which was stowed in those days on the main deck under the booms, and the fiddler on the topsail sheet bits began to play away on his violin; but nobody came to dance.

By-and-by the gunners’ wads began to fly about in all directions, the lights were extinguished, the lanthorns knocked to pieces, and a wad rolled into the admiral’s cabin as he walked there. The old boy soon saw that something was the matter and sent for Captain Whitby; but when Captain Whitby came he pretended that he knew nothing was the matter with the ship’s company. The admiral’s steward came into the cabin at the time, and being asked if he knew what was the matter with the people, replied that he heard the men say that there was too much dancing at the gangway in the morning to keep them dancing in the evening; so the admiral, seeing through it immediately, instead of using severe means (as many a tyrant would have done, and perhaps caused a real mutiny), adopted a better way, and that was in cautioning Captain Whitby not to use the cat on such light occasions, and never to flog a man again without his permission.

When the people heard of this they were greatly satisfied, and did their duty more cheerfully and better, and not a man was flogged after this but one, and he richly deserved it—it was for striking an officer when on shore on duty. But in all my experience at sea I have found seamen grateful for
good usage, and yet they like to see subordination kept up, as they know the duty could not be carried on without it; but whenever I hear of a mutiny in a ship, I am much of the opinion of Admiral Lord Collingwood, who said it must assuredly be the fault of the captain or his officers.

Our ship being leaky, we went to Bombay and there docked her, and during this time the
Bien Aimé
and prize arrived; but the turtle had all lately died from the cold weather at nights. The prize was immediately sold, and I received three rupees and a quarter for my share.

My little prize money was soon expended, together with my watch, which I sold to pay my part of the expenses of the mess; and the most of it went for gin, though I was averse to ardent spirits. But some of them were as wild as March hares, and among them a little Welshman named Emmet, whom we had sometimes to lay on a chest and tie his hands and feet to the handles till he was sober. One day when he was on shore on liberty, and of course tipsy, in passing a shop in Bombay he saw a large glass globe hanging in it, with gold fish swimming and live birds in it; he stopped and stared at it with astonishment, and muttered to himself, “What, birds swimming and fish flying!—impossible”; and in order to be satisfied, he threw a stone which hit the globe and knocked it all to pieces about the shop.

He was soon arrested and sent to jail, and a report was sent on board next morning that one of our people was there. An officer was sent to see who it was and there found poor Tom Emmet very much cast-down in the mouth. He was released and brought on board, but the globe was to be paid for; therefore the ship’s company subscribed eight hundred rupees (a great sum for the value of the globe) and paid the owner for it!

One day a Gentoo, who spoke a little English, came on board, and said he was from Dongaree and sent by one of our men for his leg, as he could not return on board without it. This demand seemed so strange that they took no notice of it at first, but the Gentoo in his bad English insisted that he was right, and, after a deal of puzzling, one of the people recollected that Bandy (the ship’s cook) was on shore, and inquiring among his messmates, found that one of them who had been on shore with Bandy, and slept in the same house, had brought away Bandy’s wooden leg by way of frolic—and no wonder the man could not return without his leg, which was soon sent to him, and he returned on board.

The
Minerva,
having got her leak stopped, and new coppered, was brought out of dock, and the
Bien Aimé
went in; but she was found so rotten that they broke her up, after being only a few months in the service (she mounted 20 guns). We then began to rig the
Minerva
with all speed; and I could easily have deserted here, but we had such accounts from England
that the war could not last six months, as almost all Europe were at war against the French Republic, that I fixed my mind on returning to England in the
Minerva,
in order, when paid off, to visit my remaining friends and relations, then bid them a long farewell, return to Calcutta, and there remain until I could do something to better my situation.

The
Minerva
being rigged and stored, we sailed from Bombay on January 12, 1794, none of us knowing (except the admiral) where we were bound for, for he always kept the ship’s destination a secret to himself. Some said we could not be bound for England, as we had left several casks of water behind on the Bunder Head, and that no ship had come out to relieve us; however, when we got a little distance out we shaped a homeward-bound course, which made us rejoice.

Near the entrance of the British Channel we came up with and passed two homeward-bound Indiamen, but as they hoisted Dutch colours we did not stop to examine them, as we were then at peace with that nation; but we heard afterwards that they were French, and were captured soon afterwards and carried into Plymouth by one of our frigates.

In proceeding up Channel we were chased a whole day by a line-of-battle ship, which in the dusk got within hail of us; we were all ready to fight her, as our admiral hoped to succeed by manoeuvring, though she was of such superior force. They hailed to know from whence we came, and our reply was “His Britannic Majesty’s ship
Minerva”
; they then asked if it was not the
Minerva
out of Havre de Grace, and were very suspicious of us; we answered that it was H.M. Ship
Minerva,
Rear-Admiral Cornwallis, from India, and this satisfied them; they shortened sail, hove to, and their captain came on board to pay his respects, and we found her to be the
Intrepid
(64 guns). One of their boat’s crew, an Irishman, when alongside was hardly satisfied that we were English, for, said he, what right had we to have a poop, being only a frigate? One of our wags told him it was to keep our prize-money in, and Pat believed him!

Next morning we saw four frigates ahead standing across our bows, little thinking they were enemies; fortunately a fog came on, and we passed them. Next morning we saw four more, who would not let us escape. The first that came up was the
Arethusa,
Sir Edward Pellew (since Lord Exmouth), who, seeing our flag, brought to and came on board, and told us the other three frigates were the
Flora, Concord,
and
Melampus,
all under the command of Sir John Borlase Warren. When he was told we had passed four English frigates yesterday (he very near committed himself for swearing), he said, with an oath, that there were not four British frigates together in the Channel but themselves, therefore the others must be French; so
hastening to his ship he gave us a salute, then bore down to his commodore, gave him news, and off they all set in search of the other four frigates, and the next day, being April 23, 1794, they overtook them. A smart action ensued, and ended with the capture of the
Pomone
(44 guns), the
Engageant
(56 guns), and
Babet
(28 guns); the other escaped, having run on shore on the French coast, being chased by the
Concord,
Sir Richard Strachan.

That same day we came to anchor at St. Helens, after a fine passage from Bombay of three months and seventeen days; but instead of finding the war over, found it only beginning—a sad drawback to many of our hopes. Next morning, the Channel fleet, under Lord Howe, weighed from Spithead and anchored here, previous to the glorious battle of June 1, and we got under way went to Spithead, and there moored ship.

As the admiral was dressing to go on shore, he saw out of the cabin windows two wherries pulling up to the ship full of girls; he came out much agitated, and sending for Captain Whitby, desired him not to allow any such creatures to come near the ship, so they were hailed to keep off; but as soon as the admiral got on shore they were permitted to come on board, and the ship was soon full of them.

It was very strange that the admiral—a religious and good man—could not bear the sight of a female; and yet he had been very much among them in his youthful days, and called a wild fellow. It was reported on board here as a fact that he once went on shore to dine with the Governor at Madras, and, as some ladies began to take their seats at the table while he was there, he arose, took up his hat, and left the company, to the astonishment of them all, and came on board!

I now began to weigh matters and ponder on my situation, and found that since I had left England the balance was much against me: then I had a chest of clothes and bedding, and my liberty; now I have little clothing, no shoes or stockings, and no liberty, and much decayed in my condition; my gums were swelled over my teeth by the scurvy so that I could not chew my victuals without them being covered with blood. I and several others ought to have been sent to the hospital, but instead of that were not allowed to set our feet on the land!

The admiral struck his flag and went to London; the
Minerva
went into Portsmouth Harbour to be paid off; and after being a week in there (the ship stripped and nearly cleared of her stores), without having a moment’s liberty on shore, after being so long abroad in unhealthy climates, thirty-seven of us were drafted on board the
Royal William
at Spithead, and the same day drafted again into the
Prompte,
a frigate of twenty-eight guns (Captain Taylor), and ready for sea. Here was encouragement for seamen
to fight for their king and country! A coolie in India was better off! This took place on May 2, 1794. However, by getting good, fresh provisions the scurvy began to abate, thank God! and my gums broke away bit by bit at a time, and without any pain as the new ones came.

Had the
Minerva
arrived at Portsmouth any earlier, Richardson probably would have been drafted by one of the ships of the Channel fleet under Admiral Lord Howe, soon to see action at the Glorious First of June. As it turned out, Richardson would see some significant action later in his career (another episode from his narrative, “With Stopford in the Basque Roads, 1808–1809,” begins on
page 213
). But for the time being he was relegated to convoy duty in and around home waters.

A month after Richardson entered the crew of the
Prompte
, the first major fleet action of the war took place—without him—some four hundred sea miles west of Ushant, France. There, Howe, with twenty-five ships of the line, battled a French fleet of twenty-six ships of the line commanded by Rear-Admiral Villaret-Joyeuse. The French fleet was protecting a convoy of 125 merchantmen loaded with badly needed grain from America. Lord Howe’s job was to stop the grain from getting to France.

¹
Charles Cornwallis, 1st Marquis Cornwallis (1738–1805), served as governor and commander in India from 1786 to 1793.

²
See
footnote 1, page 28
.

A
DIMINUTIVE FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD AND
already a four-year veteran of the Royal Navy, Midshipman William Henry Dillon rushes wide-eyed into one of the great fleet actions of the era. HMS
Defence
, 74 guns, under Captain Gambier, is the first British ship into battle this day and remains in the thick of the action throughout. Dillon’s perspective on the great battle of the first of June is through the lower-deck ports of the
Defence
, where he commands three of the great guns. Despite this limited vantage point, his account of what transpires on the smoky lower deck does much to illuminate the furious nature of the battle. But first he recounts the tense days at sea immediately preceding the Glorious First of June.

A NAVAL PROMOTION
of flag officers and captains having taken place, our whole thoughts were turned to the fleet. On April 23 the first division of it under Admiral Graves
¹
(in which the
Defence
was included) proceeded to St. Helens. During our stay at this anchorage several Indiamen and merchantships of all descriptions assembled here, to be escorted down Channel by the Grand fleet under Lord Howe. By May 2, all being ready, we weighed and made sail by divisions. We had delightful weather, and the sight was a splendid one—so many fine ships coming out in succession
and forming into order. There were the East India, West India and Newfoundland convoys, with men of war appointed to take charge of each of them. On the 5th, we had cleared the Channel. Lord Howe then made the signal for the convoys to separate, and to his fleet to form the order of sailing, in two lines. By degrees these operations were executed with beautiful precision. Seven sail of the line left us—Rear Admiral Montagu
²
with six two-deckers—to cruize on a detached station. The
Suffolk,
74, under Commodore Rainier,
³
in which was my friend Jekyll, had charge of the Indiamen. So soon as we were clear of all the convoys, a course was shaped for the Island of Ushant, which we saw the next day. Our fleet consisted of 26 sail of the line, three of 100 guns, four of 98 and two of 80: all the rest 74’s with 7 frigates, one fire ship and an hospital ship. All these were in an excellent state of discipline, anxious to meet the enemy.
⁴