Every Man Will Do His Duty (13 page)

One would have supposed that the Corsicans had received sufficient proofs that the English would not be trifled with; but they still obstinately clung to their desire to annoy the British merchants, for, in the evening, they made an attempt to get duty paid for some wine which was about to be embarked by a British merchant. However, Captain Nelson sent a message to them, declaring, that if any more complaints were made to him, however slight their nature, he should, without any further notice, pay them such a visit as they would have cause to repent. This was conclusive; the Committee saw that further attempts at opposition would be likely to draw down destruction on them, and they therefore gave up their system of annoyance; and from that moment not an armed man was to be seen in the streets of Bastia.

The viceroy was taken on board our ship that night, and was consequently placed out of danger. Nelson landed his troops on the 15th, early in
the morning; who took post at the viceroy’s house, which covered the spot where the embarkation took place. General de Burgh also furnished another hundred men for the same purpose, part of which kept post in the citadel. One hundred seamen were also sent on shore to complete the embarkation. One of our men met with a strange adventure. John Thompson, while ashore, heard the wailings of a female, and other persons’ voices speaking peremptorily. Jack, conceiving he had a right to interfere if anything was going wrong, listened awhile, and soon found that his assistance would be required. The door opened, and four rough-looking fellows pulled a couple of chests into the street.

“Avast! you saffron-faced swabs,” cried Jack, as he placed himself in front of them; “What are you going to be after with the lady’s cargo, eh?”
“Contrabande! contrabande! choses prohibées
⁴
!”
exclaimed the Corsicans.

“Chose be d—d,” cried Jack; “none of your nonsense with me. Let the lady have her goods, or by the honour of my Commander, I’ll spoil your daylights!”
“Non intendo, non intendo!”
exclaimed the Corsicans, (meaning, we don’t understand you.) But Jack mistook the meaning of the word, and exclaimed, “Not intend it! Yes, but you
did
intend it, you lying swab, and you would have
DONE
it too, if I had not been here to prevent you.” The Corsicans paused a little; but seeing that Thompson was quite alone, and they were four in number, they determined on attacking and overpowering him; consequently two of them advanced, but Jack Thompson knocked them down with his fists; the others then advanced, but at this moment an unexpected reinforcement arrived; for the hostess observing the unequal attack of the cowardly Corsicans, rushed to the spot, followed by her stable-boy, and seizing a broomstick, while the stable-boy presented a pitchfork, they laid about them with such spirit that they proved a powerful reinforcement to Jack Thompson. Others of the Corsican breed joined their rascally companions, and Jack Thompson and his two auxiliaries would doubtless have been defeated; but the timely arrival of half-a-dozen of our crew struck the Corsicans with such terror that they made a precipitate retreat, and left Jack Thompson and his confederates in possession of the prize. The husband of the hostess wore a wooden leg, and therefore could not join in the active part of the fray; he, however, proved of signal service, and acted occasionally as a flanking battery; for, having seated himself on one of the tubs, he pulled off his wooden leg, and every Corsican who happened to come within his reach during the scuffle, received a hearty thump with it from the old gentleman, who, at every blow, roared out,
“Viva Inglesi—Bono Inglesi!”
The hostess and her
caro marito
(as she termed her
husband) insisted on our partaking of some refreshment; and so pleased were they with our presence, that I believe, if we could have emptied one of their brandy casks, we should have been welcome. Having regaled ourselves, we assisted them to remove their property to a place of safety.

We now went heartily to work in removing provisions, cannon, gunpowder, and various stores, besides a vast quantity of baggage and household articles; for the poor emigrants could not afford to leave any things behind them. There were many novel scenes exhibited in Bastia at this time. Whole families might be seen moving along with their little stock of goods under the protection of British sailors or soldiers, while their enemies could do no more than look on with envy and vexation, and see themselves deprived of their intended plunder.

Our sailors had plenty of opportunities of displaying their gallantry; for it was nothing uncommon to see two or three of our ship’s crew marching along with a female under each arm, convoying them safely to the place of embarkation. Here you might see a group of men conveying a lot of furniture, while the family were carrying the lighter articles, such as bandboxes, bundles, and such-like gear. Our carpenter’s second mate was an Irishman, and a merry fellow he was; but he was rather ill-favoured in his appearance. He had somewhat of a squint about his eyes, rather a flat nose, and a wide mouth, and he passed by the cognomen of the “Munster Beauty.” Poor Pat Macguire! he was as able a seaman as ever sailed in the fleet; and whenever he committed a blunder it was on the right side: he lived long enough to see much service, for I think it was in the battle of Trafalgar that a grape-shot signed his death-warrant.

Pat Macguire had charge of the removal of the domestic part of the goods, and proud enough he was of the berth, and well pleased into the bargain; for Pat was always fond of being in ladies’ company, and here he was surrounded by all ranks. Old and young, rich and poor—all came to consult Pat as to the manner in which they were to proceed.

Some of our strongest men, who were employed in removing the cannon and other cumbersome materials, took good care to jeer Pat Macguire in his enviable employment. One would say, “There’s Mister Macguire, the lady’s man—pretty, delicate creature—he’s obliged to be stationed here to look after the gowns and petticoats, because our work is too hard for him.”

Old Jack Townsend (the grumbler) would say, “What can you expect of an Irishman?—They never were able seamen; they’re of no use on board, unless it be to act as washerwomen.”

“A bull—a bull!” cried Pat Macguire; “who ever heard of a man-washerwoman? Now, look you, Master Townsend, it’s no use your jibing and jeering after that fashion, because ye see the Captain has picked me out
for this especial service, because I was one of the most polite and best-behaved of the crew. And let me tell you that there’s neither man, woman, nor child, that sails on the salt sea, that knows how to accommodate the ladies better, or half so well, as an Irishman. So, roll that up as a quid and chew it, Master Townsend, if you plase.”

“Ugh!” said old Townsend, “that’s all you’re good for. I dare say the Captain will give you a new berth aboard—he’ll make you head nurse to the women.” “Och, good luck to him!” cried Pat; “I wish he may. Hurrah, old Jack! Pat Macguire’s just the boy for a nursery-maid.”

Had our time not been too much occupied, we should have derived much amusement by setting old Townsend and Pat Macguire on the high ropes, but our duty was rather hard, and time was running short, and, therefore, there was no other jeering except a little occasional shy fighting between these two, whose opinions differed as widely as the east and west winds.

Pat Macguire was also a bit of a politician and occasionally made some very shrewd remarks. When the despatch arrived which ordered us to evacuate Corsica, it caused much murmuring in the fleet, particularly among those who had seen good service under Sir John Jervis; and this gave Pat Macguire an opportunity of giving his opinion on the state of parties. One of the sailors having asked who it was that caused such orders to be given, Pat replied, “Sure, it was the Parliament.”

“Then,” said one of the topmen, “the Parliament never sailed under Admiral Jervis, nor fought as we have done.” Whereupon Pat Macguire, with a look of the most signal contempt, exclaimed—

“’Sblood, man, d’ye take the Parliament for a man or a woman? The Parliament, I’d have you to know, is a great many people mustered together, and they settle the affairs of the nation by talking to each other.”

“Talking to each other!” echoed the topman.

“Yes,” continued Pat; “they talk till they talk the breath out of each other, and then it’s put to the vote as to who spoke the longest and loudest, and that’s the one as gains the day.”

“And is that all they do?” inquired the topman.

“Yes, honey,” replied Pat; “they talk and we execute.”

Pat’s logic was too learned to allow the topman to argue any further; and the Boatswain having piped to quarters put an end to the debate.

We had now worked without intermission till sunset on the 19th, and must have saved about two hundred thousand pounds’ worth of stores, and other effects belonging to the emigrants.

The French had landed their troops at Cape Corse on the 18th, and on the following day they sent to the municipality to know if they intended to
receive them as friends, because, if so, they required that the English should be prevented from embarking. Time would not allow us to save anything more, and, therefore, after having spiked all the guns, we quitted the citadel at midnight; but, from the wind blowing a gale, it was dawn of day before we all got on board. All the time these transactions were going on, we were observed by a mob of Corsicans, who lined the shore, and who had the mortification to witness every soul embark who chose to leave the island, without their daring to offer the least molestation.

Captain Nelson and General de Burgh were the last who left the spot; and as Nelson stepped into the boat, he coolly turned to the mob and said, “Now, John Corse, follow the natural bent of your detestable character—plunder and revenge!” We were soon on board, and in less than half an hour we showed our sterns to the island of Corsica.

Toward the end of 1796 and in early 1797, France intended to land a force in Ireland. A first attempt, under Vice-Admiral Morard de Galles and General Hoche, in December of 1796, went awry due primarily to severe weather and confusion among the French Brest fleet, some seventeen ships of the line, thirteen frigates, and twenty transports. In 1797 a second plan called for fleets from Batavia and Spain to join the Brest fleet. In the following passage, it is Admiral Don José de Cordova’s Spanish fleet of twenty-seven ships of the line, en route from Cartagena to Brest to join the invasion force, that Commodore Nelson—carrying Sir Gilbert Elliot, the former viceroy of Corsica now bound for England—encounters off the Straits of Gibraltar.

¹
Spain declared war on October 8,1796.

²
Sir Gilbert Elliot (1751–1814) was viceroy of Corsica from 1794 to 1796.

³
John, Duke of Marlborough, was the victor of the battles of Blenheim (1704), Ramilles (1706), Oudenarde, (1708) and Malplaquet (1709) during the War of the Spanish succession.

⁴
Smuggled goods.

A
S A PASSENGER ON
board first the frigate
Minerve
, 40, then the
Lively
, 32, Colonel John Drinkwater Bethune witnesses and describes not only the Battle of Cape St. Vincent, February 14,1797, but also the battle’s preamble and aftermath. An aide to Sir Gilbert Elliot in Corsica, Drinkwater’s self-importance stands in clear contrast to matter-of-fact seamen’s accounts, but there is no greater enthusiast of Nelson, whom he has gotten to know in the line of duty and during travels across the Mediterranean to Gibraltar after Nelson evacuated Corsica and Elba. Before the colossal battle off Cape St. Vincent, Drinkwater sees one of Nelson’s more singular moments, when he refuses to lose Lieutenant Hardy, again, despite great danger.

ON THE FORENOON
of the 11th of February, the
Minerve
got under weigh. She had scarcely cast round from her anchorage, when two of the three Spanish line-of-battle ships in the upper part of Gibraltar Bay were observed to be also in motion. It was soon evident that they had been watching the commodore’s movements, and were prepared to pursue him as soon as the
Minerve
should take her departure from Gibraltar.

As the Spanish ships had a steady wind from the eastward over the Isthmus, whilst the
Minerve
was embarrassed with the eddies and baffling flaws, that usually prevail in an easterly wind, near the Rock, the Spaniards had for some time the advantage in pushing forwards in the bay. The
Minerve
was not, however, long in getting the steady breeze, and soon after got into the Straits, when the chace of the enemy became, as
we afterwards heard, a most interesting “spectacle” to our friends of the garrison.

The
Minerve
was a captured ship from the French—taken in the Mediterranean in 1795, and considered to be a tolerably good sailer, particularly with the wind on her quarter. The Spanish ships were not equally good goers; one of them, the
Terrible,
was a first-rate sailer, well known to the British officers, Culverhouse and Hardy, who had been exchanged from her only the day before. Her consort was a dull sailing ship. Advancing into the Straits, the
Minerve
had the wind abaft, and after marking her progress with that of the enemy, it was evident that the headmost ship of the chace gained on the British frigate. No sooner was this point ascertained, than directions were given by Sir Gilbert Elliot to have certain parts of his public papers ready to be sunk, if necessary, at a moment’s notice. The ship was cleared for action, and the position of the
Minerve
was now becoming every moment more and more interesting. At this period I was walking with Commodore Nelson, conversing on the probability of the enemy’s engaging the
Minerve,
and his words, and manner of uttering them, made a strong impression on me. He said that he thought an engagement was very possible, as the headmost ship appeared to be a good sailer; but, continued he (looking up at his broad pendant), “before the Dons get hold of that bit of bunting I will have a struggle with them, and sooner than give up the frigate, I’ll run her ashore.”