Frigate Commander (34 page)

Following the departure of the
Flora
, the weather deteriorated considerably and despite his irritation with Middleton, Moore decided to extend both the duration and area of his own cruise. At the same time the discomfort caused by the weather drew out his empathy with his men;

The gale has increased, with rain and excessive hard squalls. We are lying to under a reefed fore sail, rolling about in a miserable way. It must be owned if sailors are wild and licentious when ashore, their dreary and fatiguing functions call for some relaxation, some solace, some joy.

The gale lasted the better part of three days, and when it subsided, Moore took stock of the effects it had on his crew and their performance:

The natural suites of a gale and the consequent exertion it calls forth, with the exposure to wet and broken rest, is a degree of lassitude in the crew. As I think this a relaxation of nature I do not love much to spur them up for a while in that state unless circumstances demand it, but go on with what is to be done in the jog trot style. We require something now to rouse us, disappointed as we are with seeing nothing for so long a time. It will be very grievous to us all to return into Port empty handed.

He knew all too well that a poor cruise would result in a dispirited crew, and if they lost faith in their commander some of them would simply desert on return to port – especially if there was the opportunity of finding a luckier frigate;

A Frigate, or even a stout privateer would infuse life spirit and confidence to our Rogues, and the good effects of it would be felt for a long time . . . The business of the ship has gone on very quietly since we left Cork, I have not been under the necessity of punishing a man, a ceremony I avoid as much as possible. We have not been very brisk but I can look over trivial neglect when there is no immediate call for great exertion. This is inconsistent with strict discipline but I never was a disciplinarian. I do not despise discipline, but I do not practise it strictly, it so often cuts across my feelings, and sometimes even my judgement opposes its details.

This goes a long way to explaining why Moore’s credit remained high with his men. However, he continued to be thwarted by the weather. Gales blew up again, and when they subsided on 10 April, the ship’s carpenter reported that the frigate’s foremast was badly sprung. After discussion, it was agreed that they would try to secure the mast and thereby avoid going into port, but it was also clear the ship had been strained by the heavy seas; and perhaps worst of all, he feared the continual bad weather would have driven all the enemy privateers into port. Moore was becoming increasingly despondent:

We are all in the dumps. We pay for a few hours of exultation, in this occupation of ours, by months of fatigue or languor. We have, thank heaven, always the chances of the Lottery in our favour: the scene may be quite changed tomorrow, and in the course of 24 hours we may be masters of a very good prize. We may in a shorter time be in the hands of the enemy or have met our death, but these numbers are not looked for in the Wheel.

There was some excitement on 13 April when the
Melampus
came upon a schooner from Poole in some distress. Moore discovered that she had been cut out from a Newfoundland convoy by the French privateer
La Nantoise
, five days earlier. Unable to put a prize crew on board, the privateer Captain had left just two of her original crew on board as he took the ship in tow. They had escaped by cutting the towrope during the storms. The Mate of the schooner reported that
La Nantoise
was accompanied by another privateer, and, realizing that the privateers were probably still shadowing the convoy, Moore set off to the westwards in pursuit. As he did so, the news spread through the frigate and everyone was suddenly much more cheerful. He was also confident that Kingsmill would approve of his actions;

I have no doubt of his approving my conduct if we bring in a prize or two . . . The reception I meet with on my return from the Admiral will greatly depend on our success. We must take a little on ourselves and risk something when an opportunity offers on an occasion when all depends upon myself, as those who could order me on this service could not be acquainted with the circumstances.

Once again, Moore reminds us that a frigate commander was often ‘the man on the spot’ – having to make decisions without the ability to consult higher authority, having to adapt to meet different situations and ultimately bearing the consequences.

On the morning of 17 April, the
Melampus
spotted a brig, which was clearly alarmed at the appearance of the frigate. Moore gave chase and, at 2pm, opened with his bow chasers. The brig though, had the advantage of the wind, and soon began to draw away. By nightfall she was five to six miles ahead, and Moore kept the deck throughout the night, watching the brig with his night glasses and giving directions to the helmsmen. At daylight she was still in sight and the
Melampus
began to close. Twenty-five hours after first sighting the brig, the
Melampus
closed to broadside range and the brig brought to and struck. She proved to be
Le Papillon
, a privateer from Nantes, carrying fourteen guns and manned by 123 men. Moore believed her a good prize for she was comparatively new and only on her second cruise. As the prisoners were being transferred, another suspicious vessel was seen in the distance. The
Melampus
’ Second Lieutenant, De Busk, together with two midshipmen and twenty-five seamen were ordered to take the prize back to Cork, and the
Melampus
set off in chase once again. As night fell, a hard gale set in with gusts of snow, hail and rain. With such poor visibility, night glasses were useless; the chase simply disappeared into the darkness.

As day broke on the following morning, Moore and his crew could not have believed their luck. For a ship was sighted running down towards them and Moore was convinced that she was a French privateer and that she had, incredibly, mistaken the
Melampus
for
Le Papillon
. Moore waited, without making any more sail, so as to avoid creating any alarm. The approaching vessel then hauled onto the same tack as the frigate, and hoisted a number of different signal flags. The
Melampus
could obviously not respond to these
‘. . . and seeing she began to smoke us we gave chase to her’.
The French prisoners on board the
Melampus
were consulted about the vessel and confirmed she was indeed
La Nantoise
;

She endeavoured to cross us to get to leeward of us and in doing it she got under our guns. The sea was so high and it blew so very hard that I would not take the half ports off the main deck guns, but yawing to bring our broadside to bear we fired some of the quarterdeck and fore castle guns at her. She would not bring to but made all possible sail from us and much more than I thought he ought to have done in such a sea with so much wind; Being forced to carry sail after her to the imminent danger of our own masts we carried away our studding sail Booms.

Moore found that the
Melampus
could do just as well without the studding sails, and did not want to risk his masts, especially as the foremast was already badly sprung. So he

. . . continued to pelt her with a chase gun, and determined to shoot up close under her lee and settle the business with our quarterdeck guns and Musketry. We were within ½ gun shot of her when on our firing a gun at her, she gave a yaw up in the wind, overset, and in two minutes went down, and not a vestige of her was to be seen. On seeing this dismal catastrophe, we hove to as soon as the sails could be taken in as near the spot where she had been as possible, but not an atom was to be seen on the water.

The crew of the
Melampus
was shocked by this sudden turn of events.
La Nantoise
had 150 men on board plus the crew of the Poole schooner. Moore also was affected, describing it as a
‘melancholy spectacle’
; but despite his feelings for the fate of the seamen on board, he attributed this disaster completely to the obstinacy and misjudgement of the French Master.

On the morning following, the
Melampus
’ carpenter reported that now the frigate’s main topmast had sprung. The crew set about trying to shift it but then, as bad weather set in again, Moore decided they would have to return to port. He was disappointed that they would have little chance now of taking another prize, but he was cheerful:

My spirits have been raised wonderfully by the little success we have had, and I can plainly see the good effect of it on all on board. We shall go to sea next time as sanguine as ever. It appears to me that the destruction of French Commerce and the diminution of their Navy has had the effect to throw into their Privateers a more respectable set of Officers than formerly used to command them.

. . . The Captain and officers of this Privateer
Le Papillon
are very decent, well behaved men. The Captain is Captain of a Frigate in the service of the Republick, a man about my age and an active intelligent fellow in his business . . . he has been very successful in making captures and I believe has realized a tolerable fortune.

Moore was particularly interested to learn that a number of the privateer’s crew had volunteered to serve in order to avoid conscription.

Off Cape Clear, on the 21st, the crew of the
Melampus
learned from the frigate
Shannon
that the
Papillon
had arrived safely in Cork, and they joined her there on the following day. Unfortunately, Moore was unable to get rid of his French prisoners until 3 May, on which day an urgent dispatch arrived from Lord Bridport reporting that the French fleet had broken out of Brest on 26 April, with nineteen ships of the line and eighteen frigates. It was thought that they might be attempting another descent upon Ireland and the
Melampus
and the
Shannon
were hastily ordered to prepare to sail under the command of Captain Lumsdaine in the 64-gun
Polyphemus
;

Lumsdaine is an excellent seaman and a brave officer, we are very good friends. He possess
[es]
much of the sagacity, mother wit and shrewdness of the Scotch and is really a manly, honorable and clever fellow.

But he thought the
Polyphemus
in poor condition, even though she was well manned.

Although the ships were prepared quickly, Moore knew that south-easterly winds had been prevalent since the 26th. These would have blown the French out to the westwards and, at the same time, would have brought the ships from Portsmouth down to guard the entrance of the Channel. Ironically, Lumsdaine’s ships were unable to get out of Cork harbour, and Moore was growing anxious about missing any engagement. While they lay in Cork, news came that a fleet had appeared off Bantry Bay, but Moore was convinced that this would be Bridport’s fleet. While waiting for an opportunity to leave the harbour, Moore received several letters, including one from Miss M’s brother confirming that his sister was not indifferent towards him. This set Moore’s hopes soaring once more and he again dispatched a proposal of marriage via his mother. There had also been news of an old acquaintance:

I see by the News Papers that Sidney Smith is off St. John D’Acre with his ship the
Tygre [74]
. He will cut out some work for himself there with Buonoparte, I wish he may not by his extraordinary valor and enterprise venture too far and get into some fatal scrape.
⁸⁸

The three ships finally managed to escape Cork harbour on 6 April and headed towards Bantry Bay where Bridport eventually joined them. The assembled fleet now consisted of twenty ships of the line, one 64-gun ship and nine or ten frigates. The captains of the fleet were all summoned on board Bridport’s flagship, the
Royal George
(100), for a meeting where it was generally agreed that the French must be heading for Ireland. However, it was also deduced that any landing would be attempted on the north coast, and the fleet headed in that direction with the weather closing around them and visibility declining. Back in the privacy of his own cabin, Moore confided in his journal that he had

. . . no very high idea of the abilities of the Commander in Chief or his principal adviser, but I have the firmest reliance on his courage and perseverance,

which would enable him to destroy the Brest fleet if they met them.

On 15 April, Bridport dispatched the
Melampus
, the fastest frigate in the fleet, to scout ahead and look into Black Sod Bay on the coast of Mayo. There Moore landed with a boat full of armed seamen and learned that nothing had been seen of the French. He sailed on to Killala, where again nothing had been seen, before returning to join Bridport off Achil Head. Reporting on board the
Royal George
, Moore was informed that it was now thought the French had sailed southwards but, given the recent alarm about Ireland, Bridport decided on the advisability on leaving a screen of frigates around the Irish coast,
⁸⁹
while he remained in Bantry Bay, Moore and the
Shannon
were sent back to watch off Black Sod Bay. However, the whole exercise was jeopardized because bad weather drove Bridport’s line of battleships out to sea. Off Erris Head, Moore had become convinced anyway that the French had gone elsewhere and thought that they were all wasting both their time and the health of their ships and men:
‘The
Melampus
begins to complain now a good deal, she has run a long time and been much at sea and in the worst weather.’
The
Shannon
too was suffering, having sprung the knee of her head and Charles Pater, her Commander, reported that she was in danger of losing her bowsprit. At such a critical time, Moore was infuriated to learn that Bridport had withdrawn to Beer Haven, from where he could give little protection to the Irish coast. The French could attack the north coast of Ireland long before Bridport would get anywhere near them. With his small squadron off Black Rock, Moore inscribed angrily into his journal,
‘This is the place for the Grand Fleet for that purpose, I say it and say it again’.
By the last day of May, Moore and his crew were heartily tired of their current cruise. Moore was even more convinced that the French would not come, and he bemoaned the fact that they were daily wearing out their sails and rigging. To a large degree, he blamed Bridport: