BY G. H. WALKER.
When the brave die in battle, the ardour which impels them to glory and renders them insensible of their danger leaves a brilliance behind, which mitigates, in a great degree, the grief of their relatives and friends. But nothing can be more distressing than to behold a multitude of gallant men in a moment of inactivity, perhaps in the midst of amusements and the height of enjoyment, anchored on their own coast, and riding in smooth water, overwhelmed in a moment in the liquid abyss, and precipitated into an awful eternity. Such was the fate of the crew of the Royal George.
The Royal George, one hundred and eight guns, the flag ship of Admiral Kempenfeldt and one of the best ships in the navy, had just returned from a cruise in which she had sprung a leak which demanded attention. The carpenter and others, after a strict survey, finding that the leak was not more than two feet below the water-mark, and supposing it to be occasioned by the rubbing off the copper sheathing, it was resolved, in order to save time, instead of sending her into dock to give her a slight careen, or in the language of the seamen, "a parliament heel"—that is, to lay her to a certain degree upon her side while her defects were examined and repaired at Spithead. It was meanwhile discovered that the pipe, for the occasional admission of water to cleanse and sweeten the ship, was out of repair, and that it was necessary to replace it with a new one. As the ship required to be heeled very much for this purpose, the greater part of the guns were removed from one side to the other; but the vessel heeling more than was intended and the crew having neglected to stop the scuppers of the lower decks, the water came in and for some time she stole down imperceptibly. During this time many of the crew were at dinner; but as soon as they discovered their dangerous condition they beat to arms to right the ship. They were, however, too late, and all their efforts were in vain, for in a few minutes the Royal George fell flat on one side, filled with water, and the guns, shot, etc., falling to the under side, she went to the bottom, August 29th, 1782, before any signal of distress could be made.
At this fatal moment there were nearly twelve hundred persons on board, including about two hundred and fifty women and several children, chiefly belonging to the seamen, who had been permitted to go on board when the ship cast anchor at Spithead and to remain there until the order for sailing arrived. The people who were on watch upon deck, to the number of two hundred and thirty, were mostly saved by the boats, which were manned with the utmost expedition by the ships near the Royal George when they observed that the vessel was going down. Their assistance was, however, delayed for some time by the swell occasioned by the sinking of such a large body, which produced a temporary whirlpool in the water. About seventy others, who rose after the ship disappeared, were also picked up; among these were four lieutenants, eleven women, and the rest seamen.
One of the officers thus rescued was Lieutenant Durham, who fortunately was the officer of the watch and upon deck when he observed the vessel going down. He had just time to throw off his coat and scramble on the beam from which, as the ship sank, he was soon washed and left floating about among men and hammocks. A drowning marine caught him by the waistcoat and held him fast, so that he was several times drawn under water. It was in vain to reason with the man: he therefore clung with his legs round a hammock, with one hand unbuttoned his waistcoat, and, sloping his shoulders, committed it, together with the unfortunate marine, to the waves. He then got to some of the top rigging; a boat came to him, but he nobly declined the assistance offered by those on board her, pointing out to them where Captain Waghorne was in great danger, and desiring them to go to his relief, after which the gallant youth was taken up and brought in safety to the shore.
Mr. Henry Bishop, a young man about nineteen years of age, experienced a very extraordinary preservation. Being on the lower deck at the time of the fatal accident, as the vessel filled the force of the water hurried him almost insensibly up the hatchway, when at that instant he was met by one of the guns which had fallen from the middle deck. Striking him on his left hand it broke three of his fingers; he, however, found himself a few seconds later floating on the surface of the water, where he was ultimately taken up by a boat.
By this sudden and dreadful catastrophe nearly nine hundred persons perished. Among the rest, the loss of Admiral Kempenfeldt, whose flag was then flying on board the Royal George, was universally lamented. He was the son of Lieutenant-colonel Kempenfeldt, a native of Sweden, whose character is preserved in the Spectator, under the name of Captain Sentry. He entered very early into the service of the navy, for which profession he soon discovered uncommon talents. In the year 1757 he was appointed captain of the Elizabeth, and proceeded with Commodore Stevens to the East Indies, where he distinguished himself in three several actions against the French squadron, being always opposed to a ship of superior force. His skill was of the utmost importance during the blockade of Pondicherry as well as at the subsequent reduction of Manilla by Admiral Cornish in 1761. After serving a considerable time in the West Indies he obtained leave to return to England. During the peace he constantly spent part of the year in France, not in the pursuit of pleasure, but in search of professional knowledge, in which, if he did not excel, he at least equalled any naval officer in Europe. At the commencement of the American war he was appointed to the Buckingham, and served as first captain under the Admirals Hardy, Geary, and Darby; and his gallant conduct contributed in no small degree to the capture of the convoy under M. Guichen. His character in private life rendered his acquaintance an enviable acquisition, and as an officer his death was a very severe loss to his country.
The Lark sloop victualler, which was lying alongside the Royal George, was swallowed up in the vortex occasioned by the sinking of the vessel, and several of the people on board her perished.
The Royal George was the oldest first-rate in the service. She was built at Woolwich; her keel was laid down in 1751 and she was hauled out of the dock in July 1755, it being unusual, at that time, to build such large ships on slips to launch. She was pierced for one hundred guns, but having recently had two additional ports, including the carronades, mounted one hundred and eight guns; she was rather short and high, like all the old first-rates, but sailed so well that she had more flags on board her than any vessel then in the service. Lord Anson, Admiral Boscawen, Lord Hawke, Lord Rodney, Lord Howe, and several other principal officers, repeatedly commanded in her. She carried the tallest masts and squarest canvas of any English built ship in the navy, and originally the heaviest metal—namely, fifty-two, forty, and twenty-eight pounders—but they had been changed, on account of her age, to forty, thirty-two and eighteen pounders.
The circumstances detailed in the following narrative are altogether of so singular and romantic a character that but for the undeniable authenticity of every particular, the whole might be considered as the production of the ingenious brain of a Defoe. Some of the incidents indeed surpass in impressive interest anything to be met with in the fictitious history of Alexander Selkirk's solitary existence and adventure.
In December 1787 the Bounty sailed from Spithead for Otaheite under the command of Lieutenant Bligh, who had previously accompanied Captain Cook in his exploiting voyages in the Pacific Ocean. The object of the present expedition was to convey from Otaheite to our West Indian colonies the plants of the bread-fruit tree which Dampier, Cook, and other voyagers had observed to grow with the most prolific luxuriance in the South Sea Islands, and which furnished the natives with a perpetual and wholesome subsistence without even the trouble of cultivation.
The crew of the Bounty consisted of forty-five individuals, including the commander and two skilful gardeners to take charge of the plants, for the removal of which every accommodation had been provided on board, under the superintendence of Sir Joseph Banks who had personally visited Otaheite with Captain Wallis. After a most distressing voyage, in which, after reaching Cape Horn, they were compelled to put the helm a-weather and take the route by Van Diemen's Land, the voyagers anchored in Matavia Bay, Otaheite, on October 26th, 1788, having run over, by the log, since leaving England, a space of 27,086 miles, or an average of one hundred and eight miles in twenty-four hours.
The simple natives, who had experienced much kindness from Captain Cook, testified great joy on the arrival of the strangers, and loaded them with presents of provisions of every sort. The character, condition, and habits of the islanders, as described to us even by their early visitors, present a most extraordinary contrast to the usual features of savage life. They were a kind, mild-tempered, social, and affectionate race, living in the utmost harmony amongst themselves, their whole lives being one unvaried round of cheerful contentment, luxurious ease, and healthful exercise and amusements.
Bligh appears to have been tempted to remain at this luxurious spot much longer than was either proper or necessary, as the bread-fruit plants, and provisions of hogs, fowls, fish, and vegetables of every description were amply supplied him by the kind natives. The liberty which he gave his crew to go on shore and enjoy all the indulgences which the place afforded, was extremely imprudent; and this, together with the capricious harshness and unjustifiable insult with which he occasionally treated every one on board—officers as well as men—appears to have been the sole cause of the unfortunate occurrence that afterwards took place. The Bounty which, as we have mentioned, arrived October 20th, 1788, did not sail till April 4th, 1789, when she departed loaded with presents, and amid the tears and regrets of the natives. They continued till the 27th amongst the islands of that archipelago, touching many of them, bartering and interchanging presents with the natives, many of whom remembered Bligh when he accompanied Cook in the Resolution.
It was on the night of the 27th that the mutiny broke out. The affair, as far as can ever be learned by the strictest investigation, was entirely unpremeditated, and resulted entirely from the commander's giving way to one of those furious and ungovernable fits of passion which he from time to time exhibited. On the day previous (the 26th), Bligh, having missed some of the cocoanuts that were piled up on deck, ordered a search to be made; but none being discovered, he burst into a paroxysm of passion, calling them all scoundrels and thieves alike, swearing he would make the half of them jump overboard before they got through Endeavour Straits, and ordering the villains' (officers) grog to be stopped and gave them half a pound of yams for dinner. The officer of the watch, a young man of respectable family, named Fletcher Christian, who was master's mate, and had been two voyages with Bligh, incurred the greatest share of abuse, the latter cursing him for a hound, and accusing him of having stolen the cocoanuts for his own use. Christian, who was a fiery-spirited young man, appears to have become exasperated at this ignominious treatment, to much of the same kind of which he had been subjected for some time previous; so much so, indeed, that he declared to some of his messmates that he had been in hell for the last fortnight, on account of Bligh's usage of him, and expressed his determination to leave the ship in a raft on the first opportunity, and commit himself to the waves rather than remain on board. During the night of the 28th he accordingly began to prepare his raft; and while so employed, one of the crew unfortunately suggested that it would be better for him to seize the ship at once. The idea which Christian does not seem to have thought of till that moment, was instantly caught at, and a few whispers amongst the crew showed that the majority were quite ready for the scheme, which was forthwith put into execution. About sunrise on Tuesday, April 28th, Christian, with three of the crew, entered Bligh's cabin and secured him in bed, tied his hands behind his back, and hurried him on deck. Their companions had in the meanwhile secured those who were suspected to be disinclined to the mutiny; among whom was Mr. Peter Heywood (afterwards so much distinguished in the royal navy service), and two other midshipmen, who were detained (contrary to their express wishes) to assist the mutineers in managing the vessel. Several other of the crew, likewise, who disclaimed all share in the mutiny, were thus forcibly detained. A boat was then hoisted alongside, and Bligh, with eighteen unfortunate companions, was forced into it. Some provisions, clothes, and four cutlasses were given them, and they were cast adrift in the open ocean. Twenty-five remained on board, the ablest of the ship's company. As the boat put off, "Huzza for Otaheite!" was shouted by the mutineers, thus indicating the destination of their further proceedings.
Being near the island of Tofoa, the castaways rowed towards it for the purpose of obtaining some bread-fruit and water, with which the natives at first seemed very willing to supply them, until Bligh imprudently advised his men to say, in answer to the queries put them about the ship, that it had overset and sunk. The consequence was, that the natives attacked them, stoned one man to death, and it was with difficulty that the remainder escaped. Bligh's companions then entreated him to steer for home at all risks and hazards; and on being told that no hope of relief could be entertained till they reached Timor, off the coast of New Holland, a distance fully twelve hundred leagues, they readily agreed to be content with an allowance, which, on calculation, was found would not exceed an ounce of bread and a quarter of a pint of water per day for each man. After taking them, bound by a solemn promise to this effect, these unfortunate men boldly bore away, on May 2nd, across a sea where the navigation was little, in an open boat twenty-three feet long and deep, laden with eighteen men. It is not our purpose here to detail the particulars of this adventurous voyage. Suffice it to say that, after enduring the most horrible distresses from cold, thirst, famine, and running a distance by the log of more than three hundred miles, the whole reached the island of Timor alive on June 14th, but so much spent as more to resemble spectres than men. They were treated with great kindness by the inhabitants, but, notwithstanding every attention, four or five of them here died; the rest proceeded to Batavia, whence they obtained passages to England, where Bligh arrived in March, 1790.
The intelligence of the mutiny, and the sufferings of Bligh and his companions, naturally excited a great sensation in England. Bligh was immediately promoted to the rank of commander, and Captain Edwards was despatched to Otaheite in the Pandora frigate, with instructions to search for the Bounty and her mutinous crew, and bring them to England. The Pandora reached Matavia Bay on March 23rd, 1791; and even before she had come to anchor, Joseph Coleman, formerly armourer of the Bounty, pushed off from shore in a canoe, and came on board. He frankly told who he was, and professed his readiness to give every information that might be required of him. Scarcely had the ship anchored, when Messrs. Heywood and Stewart, late midshipmen of the Bounty, also came on board; and in the course of two days afterwards, the whole of the remainder of the Bounty's crew (in number sixteen) then on the island surrendered themselves, with the exception of two, who fled to the mountains, where, as it afterwards appeared, they were murdered by the natives.
From his prisoners, and the journals kept by one or two of them, Captain Edwards learnt the proceedings of Christian and his associates after turning Bligh and his companions adrift in the boat. It appears that they steered in the first instance to the island of Toobouai, where they intended to form a settlement; but the opposition of the natives, and want of many necessary materials, determined them to return in the meantime to Otaheite, where they arrived on May 25th, 1789. In answer to the inquiries of Tinah, the king, about Bligh and the rest of the crew, the mutineers stated that they had fallen in with Captain Cook, who was forming a settlement in a neighbouring island, and had retained Bligh and the others to assist him, while they themselves had been despatched to Otaheite for an additional supply of hogs, goats, fowls, bread-fruit and various other articles. Overjoyed at hearing their old friend Cook was alive, and about to settle so near them, the humane and unsuspicious islanders set about actively to procure the supplies wanted, that in a few days the Bounty received on board three hundred and twelve hogs, thirty-eight goats, eight dozen of fowls, a bull and a cow, and a large quantity of bread-fruit, plantains, bananas, and other fruits. The mutineers also took with them eight men, nine women, and seven boys, with all of whom they arrived a second time at Toobouai on June 26th, where they warped the ship up the harbour, landed the live stock, and set about building a fort fifty yards square. Quarrels and disappointments, however, soon broke out among them. The poor natives were treated like slaves, and upon attempting to retaliate, were mercilessly put to death. Christian, finding his authority almost entirely disregarded, called a consultation as to what steps were next to be taken, when it was agreed that Toobouai should be abandoned; that the ship should once more be taken to Otaheite, where those who might choose it would be put ashore, while the rest who preferred remaining in the vessel might proceed wherever they had a mind. This was accordingly done: sixteen of the crew went on shore at Matavia (fourteen of whom, as already stated, were received on board the Pandora, and two were murdered), while Christian with his eight comrades, and taking with them seven Otaheitan men and twelve women, finally sailed from Matavia on September 21st, 1789, from which time they had never been more heard of.
Captain Edwards instituted a strict search after the fugitives amongst the various groups of islands in the Pacific, but finding no trace of them, he set sail, after three months' investigation, for the east coast of New Holland. Here, by some mismanagement, the Pandora struck upon the singular coral reef that runs along that coast, called the Barrier Reef, and filled so fast that scarcely were the boats got out when she foundered and went down, thirty-four of the crew and four of the prisoners perishing in her. It is painful to record anything to the discredit of that service which has proved the pride and safeguard of Great Britain, and made her the acknowledged sovereign of the sea. But the concurring testimony of the unfortunate prisoners exhibits the conduct of Captain Edwards towards them in colours which are shocking to contemplate. They were confined in a small round house, built on the after deck on purpose, which could only be entered by a scuttle in the top, about eighteen inches square. From this narrow prison they were never allowed to stir, and they were, over and above, heavily loaded with irons both at the wrists and ankles. When the Pandora went down, no attempt was made to save them, and the ten survivors escaped almost in a state of complete nudity. After reaching a low, sandy, desert island, or rather quay, as such are nautically termed, Captain Edwards caused his men to form tents out of the sails they had saved, under which he and his men reposed in comparative comfort; but he refused the same indulgence to his miserable captives, whose only refuge, therefore, from the scorching rays of the sun, was by burying themselves up to the neck amongst the burning sand, so that their bodies were blistered as if they had been scalded with boiling water. But we refrain from dwelling on facts so disreputable to the character of a British sailor. The Pandora's survivors reached Batavia in their boats, whence they obtained passages to England in Dutch vessels. A court martial was soon after held (September, 1792), when six of the ten mutineers were found guilty and condemned to death—the other four were acquitted. Only three of the six, however, were executed. Mr. Heywood, who was amongst the condemned (chiefly by the perverted and prejudiced evidence of Captain Bligh and a fellow-midshipman), was afterwards pardoned upon the strong recommendation of the court, who, notwithstanding the vindictive evidence against him, were perfectly convinced of his innocence. His subsequent honourable career proved him fully deserving the favourable opinion of his judges, as well as of the promotion he obtained.
Nearly twenty years elapsed after the period of the above occurrences, and all recollection of the Bounty and her wretched crew had passed away, when an accidental discovery, as interesting as unexpected, once more recalled public attention to that event. The captain of an American schooner having in 1808 accidentally touched at an island, up to that time supposed to be uninhabited, called Pitcairn's Island, found a community, speaking English, who represented themselves as the descendants of the mutineers of the Bounty, of whom there was still one man, of the name of Alexander Smith, alive amongst them. Intelligence of this singular circumstance was sent by the American captain (Folger) to Sir Sydney Smith at Valparaiso, and by him transmitted to the Lords of the Admiralty. But the government was at that time perhaps too much engaged in the events of the continental war to attend to the information, nor was anything further heard of this interesting little society until 1814. In that year two British men-of-war cruising in the Pacific, made an island, which they could not at first believe to be Pitcairn's Island, as it was more than three degrees out of the longitude assigned it by Captain Carteret, who first discovered it in 1797. They were confirmed in this opinion by observing symptoms of cultivation, and, on nearing the shore, saw plantations regularly and orderly laid out. Soon afterwards they observed a few natives coming down a steep descent with their canoes on their shoulders, and in a few minutes perceived one of these little vessels darting through a heavy surf, and paddling off towards the ships. But their astonishment may be imagined, when, on coming along side, they were hailed in good English with—"Won't you heave us a rope now?" This being done, a young man sprang up the side with extraordinary activity, and stood on the deck before them. In answer to the question, "Who are you?" he replied that his name was Thursday October Christian, son of the late Fletcher Christian by an Otaheitan mother; that he was the first born on the island, and was so named because he was born on a Thursday in October. All this sounded singular and miraculous in the ears of the British captains, Sir Thomas Staines and Mr. Pipon, but they were soon satisfied of its truth. Young Christian was at this time about twenty-four years old, a tall, handsome youth fully six feet high, with black hair, and an open, interesting English countenance. As he wore no clothes except a piece of cloth round his loins, and a straw hat ornamented with black cock's feathers, his fine figure and well-shaped muscular limbs were displayed to great advantage, and attracted general admiration. His body was much tanned by exposure to the weather; but although his complexion was somewhat brown, it wanted that tinge of red peculiar to the natives of the Pacific. He spoke English correctly both in grammar and pronunciation; and his frank and ingenuous deportment excited in every one the liveliest feelings of compassion and interest. His companion was a fine, handsome youth, of seventeen or eighteen years of age, named George Young, son of one of the Bounty's midshipmen.
The youths expressed great surprise at everything they saw, especially a cow, which they supposed to be either a huge goat or a horned sow, having never seen any other quadruped. When questioned concerning the Bounty, they referred the captains to an old man on shore, the only surviving Englishman, whose name they said was John Adams, but who proved to be the identical Alexander Smith before mentioned, having changed his name from some caprice or other. The officers went ashore with the youths, and were received by old Adams, as we shall now call him, who conducted them to his house, and treated them to an elegant repast of eggs, fowls, yams, plaintains, bread-fruit, etc. They now learned from him an account of the fate of his companions, who, with himself, preferred accompanying Christian in the Bounty to remaining at Otaheite—which account agreed with that he afterwards gave at greater length to Captain Beechey in 1825. Our limit will not permit us to detail all the interesting particulars at length, as we could have wished, but they are in substance as follows:—
It was Christian's object, in order to avoid the vengeance of the British law, to proceed to some unknown and uninhabited island, and the Marquesas Islands were first fixed upon. But Christian, on reading Captain Carteret's account of Pitcairn's Island, thought it better adapted for the purpose, and shaped his course thither, Having landed and traversed it, they found it every way suitable to their wishes, possessing water, wood, a good soil, and some fruits. The anchorage in the offing was extremely dangerous for ships, and it was scarcely possible for boats to get through the surf that broke on the shore. The mountains were so difficult of access, and the passes so narrow, that they might be maintained by a few persons against an army, and there were several caves, to which, in case of necessity, they could retreat, and where, as long as their provisions lasted, they might bid defiance to all pursuit. Having ascertained all this, they returned on board, and having landed their hogs, goats, and poultry, and gutted the ship of everything that could be useful to them, they set fire to her, and destroyed every vestige that might lead to the discovery of their retreat. This was on January 23d, 1790. The island was then divided into nine equal portions amongst them, a suitable spot of neutral ground being reserved for a village. The poor Otaheitans now found themselves reduced to the condition of mere slaves; but they patiently submitted, and everything went on peaceably for two years. About that time, Williams, one of the seamen, having the misfortune to lose his wife, forcibly took the wife of one of the Otaheitans, which, together with their continued ill-usage, so exasperated the latter that they formed a plan for murdering the whole of their oppressors. The plot, however, was discovered and revealed by the Englishmen's wives, and two of the Otaheitans were put to death. But the surviving natives soon afterwards matured a more successful conspiracy, and in one day murdered five of the Englishmen, including Christian. Adams and Young were spared at the intercession of their wives, and the remaining two, M'Koy and Quintal (two desperate ruffians), escaped to the mountains, whence, however, they soon rejoined their companions. But the further career of these villains was short. M'Koy having been brought up in a Scotch distillery, succeeded in extracting a bottle of ardent spirits from the tea root; from which time he and Quintal were never sober, until the former became delirious, and committed suicide by jumping over a cliff. Quintal being likewise almost insane with drinking, made repeated attempts to murder Adams and Young, until they were absolutely compelled, for their own safety, to put him to death, which they did by felling him with a hatchet.
Adams and Young were at length the only surviving males who had landed on the island, and being both of a serious turn of mind, and having time for reflection and repentance, they became extremely devout. Having saved a Bible and prayer-book from the Bounty, they now performed family worship morning and evening, and addressed themselves to training up their own children, and those of their unfortunate companions, in piety and virtue. Young, however, was soon carried off by an asthmatic complaint, and Adams was thus left to continue his pious labours alone. At the time Captain Staines and Pipon visited the island, this interesting little colony consisted of about forty-six persons, mostly grown-up young people, and all living in harmony and happiness together; and not only professing, but fully understanding and practising, the precepts and principles of the Christian religion. Adams had instituted the ceremony of marriage, and he assured his visitors that not one instance of debauchery or immoral conduct had occurred amongst them.
The visitors having supplied these interesting people with some tools, kettles, and other articles, took their leave. The account which they transmitted home of this newly-discovered colony, was, strange to say, as little attended to by government as that of Captain Folger, and nothing more was heard of Adams and his family for nearly twelve years, when in 1825, Captain Beechey, in the Blossom, bound on a voyage of discovery to Behring's Straits, touched at Pitcairn's Island. On the approach of the Blossom a boat came off under all sail towards the ship, containing old Adams and ten of the young men of the island. After requesting and obtaining leave to come on board, the young men sprang up the side, and shook every officer cordially by the hand. Adams, who was grown very corpulent, followed more leisurely. He was now dressed in a sailor's shirt and trousers, with a low-crowned hat, which he held in his hand in sailor fashion, while he smoothed down his bald forehead when addressed by the officers of the Blossom. It was the first time he had been on board a British vessel since the destruction of the Bounty, now thirty-five years ago; and it was evident his mind recurred to the events of that period. Captain Beechey procured from Adams a detailed narrative of the whole transaction of the mutiny and subsequent events, which has since been published by that gentleman, and of which we have already given an abstract. The little colony had now increased to about sixty-six, including an English sailor of the name of John Buffet, who at his own earnest desire had been left by a whaler. In this man, the society luckily found an able and willing schoolmaster. He instructed the children in reading, writing, and arithmetic, and devoutly co-operated with old Adams in affording religious instruction to the community. The officers of the Blossom went ashore, and were entertained with a sumptuous repast at young Christian's, the table being spread with plates, knives, and forks. Buffet said grace in an emphatic manner, and so strict were they in this respect, that it was not deemed proper to touch a morsel of bread without saying grace both before and after it. The officers slept in the house all night, their bed-clothing and sheets consisting of the native cloth made of the native mulberry-tree. The only interruption to their repose was the melody of the evening hymn, which was chanted together by the whole family after the lights were put out; and they were awakened at early dawn by the same devotional ceremony. On Sabbath the utmost decorum was attended to, and the day was passed in regular religious observances. All that remains to be said of these excellent people, concludes Beechey, is, that they appear to live together in perfect harmony and contentment; to be virtuous, religious, cheerful, and hospitable beyond the limits of prudence; to be patterns of conjugal and parental affection, and to have very few vices. We remained with them many days, and their unreserved manners gave us the fullest opportunity of becoming acquainted with any faults they might have possessed.
In consequence of a representation made by Captain Beechey, the British government sent out Captain Waldegrave in 1830, in the Seringapatam, with a supply of sailors' blue jackets and trousers, flannels, stockings and shoes, women's dresses, spades, mattocks, shovels, pickaxes, trowels, rakes, etc. He found their community increased to about seventy-nine, all exhibiting the same unsophisticated and amiable characteristics as we have before described. Other two Englishmen had settled amongst them; one of them, called Nobbs, a self-constituted missionary, who was endeavouring to supersede Buffet in his office of religious instructor. The patriarch Adams, it was found, had died in March, 1826, aged sixty-five. While on his death-bed he had called the heads of families together, and urged upon them to elect a chief, which, however, they had not yet done; but the greatest harmony still prevailed amongst them, notwithstanding Nobb's exertions to form a party of his own. Captain Waldegrave thought that the island, which is about four miles square, might be able to support a thousand persons, upon reaching which number they would naturally emigrate to other islands.
Such is the account of this most singular colony, originating in crime and bloodshed. Of all the repentant criminals on record, the most interesting, perhaps, is John Adams. Nor do we know where to find a more beautiful example of the value of early instruction than in the history of this man, who, having run a full career of most kinds of vice, was checked by an interval of leisure and reflection, and a sense of new duties awakened by the power of natural affection.
(SIR EDWARD PELLEW).
Edward Pellew, afterwards Viscount Exmouth, was born at Dover in 1757. At thirteen years of age he went to sea on board the Juno frigate as midshipman, and later served in the Blonde frigate on Lake Champlain during the American War. While here, in command of the Pelican in 1782, he defeated three French privateers. Attracting the attention of his superiors by his cool and intrepid daring, he was sent home with despatches and strongly recommended for promotion.
On the outbreak of war with France in 1793 he was made captain of the Nymph, a thirty-six gun frigate, which he manned chiefly with Cornish miners, signalising his appointment by capturing the Cleopatra of forty guns—"a crack ship of France"—after a brief and brilliant encounter on the morning of June 18th. The captain of the French frigate was killed and three lieutenants wounded, besides which she lost sixty of her men, one hundred and fifty being taken prisoners. Captain Pellew lost twenty-three men killed and twenty-seven wounded. This being the first capture after the outbreak of the war, Captain Pellew received the honour of knighthood. His next appointment was to the Arethusa, of forty-four guns, in which he distinguished himself on many occasions while serving in the Channel with Sir J. B. Warren's squadron. Sir Edward Pellew was, however, distinguished not only for his military skill and prowess but for his heroic humanity. The story of the shipwreck of the Dutton and of Sir Edward Pellew's gallant rescue of her crew and passengers has been often told, and we are glad to be able to quote the description given by his biographer.
In January, 1796, Sir Edward's ship the Indefatigable was refitting in Plymouth Harbour, and on the 26th Sir Edward and Lady Pellew were driving to a dinner party when they learned that there was a wreck off the shore, upon which Sir Edward left the carriage and proceeded to the Hoe.
"Arrived at the beach, he saw at once that the loss of nearly all on board, between five hundred and six hundred, was inevitable, without some one to direct them. The principal officers of the ship had abandoned their charge and got on shore just as he arrived on the beach. Having urged them, but without success, to return to their duty, and vainly offered rewards to pilots and others belonging to the port to board the wreck—for all thought it too hazardous to be attempted—he exclaimed, 'Then I will go myself!' A single rope, by which the officers and a few others had landed, formed the only communication with the ship, and by this he was hauled on board through the surf. The danger was greatly increased by the wreck of the masts which had fallen towards the shore, and he received an injury in the back which confined him to his bed for a week, in consequence of being dragged under the main mast. But, disregarding this at the time, he reached the deck, declared himself and assumed the command. He assured the people that every one would be saved if they quietly obeyed his orders; that he himself would be the last to quit the wreck, but that he would run any one through who disobeyed him. His well-known name, with the calmness and energy he displayed, gave confidence to the despairing multitude. He was received with three hearty cheers, which were echoed by the multitude on shore, and his promptitude and resource soon enabled him to find and apply the means by which all might be safely landed. His officers, in the meantime, though not knowing that he was on board, were exerting themselves to bring assistance from the Indefatigable. Mr. Pellowe, first lieutenant, left the ship in the barge, and Mr. Thomson, acting master, in the launch; but the boats could not be brought alongside the wreck and were obliged to run for the Barbican. A small boat belonging to a merchant vessel was more fortunate. Mr. Esdell, signal midshipman to the port admiral, and Mr. Coghlan, mate of the (merchant) vessel, succeeded, at the risk of their lives, in bringing her alongside. The ends of two additional hawsers were got on shore, and Sir Edward contrived cradles, to be slung upon them, with travelling ropes to pass forward and backward between the ship and the beach. Each hawser was held on shore by a number of men, who watched the rolling of the wreck, and kept the ropes tight and steady. Meantime a cutter had with great difficulty worked out of Plymouth Pool, and two large boats arrived from the dockyard, under the directions of Mr. Hemmings, the master-attendant, by whose caution and judgment they were enabled to approach the wreck, and received the more helpless of the passengers who were carried to the cutter. Sir Edward, with his sword drawn, directed the proceedings and preserved order, a task the more difficult as the soldiers had got at the spirits before he came on board and many were drunk. The children, the women and the sick were the first landed. One of them was only three weeks old, and nothing in the whole transaction impressed Sir Edward more strongly than the struggle of the mother's feelings before she would entrust her infant to his care, or afforded him more pleasure than the success of his attempt to save it. Next, the soldiers were got on shore, then the ship's company, and finally Sir Edward himself, who was one of the last to leave her. Every one was saved, and presently afterwards the wreck went to pieces."
"Nothing," says Mr. Giffard in his "Deeds of Naval Daring," "could equal the lustre of such an action, except the modesty of him who was the hero of it. Indeed, upon all occasions, forward as he was to eulogise the merits of his followers, Sir Edward was reserved, almost to a fault, upon everything connected with his own services. The only notice taken of the Dutton in the journal of the Indefatigable, is the short sentence, 'Sent two boats to the assistance of a ship on shore in the Sound;' and in his letter to Vice-admiral Onslow, who had hoisted his flag at Plymouth a day or two before, he throws himself almost out of sight and ascribes the chief merit to the officer who directed the boats:—
"'Dear Sir,—I hope it happened to me this afternoon to be serviceable to the unhappy sufferers on board the Dutton; and I have much satisfaction in saying that every soul in her was taken out before I left her, except the first mate, boatswain and third mate, who attended the hauling of ropes to the shore, and they eased me on shore by the hawsers. It is not possible to refrain speaking in raptures of the handsome conduct of Mr. Hemmings, the master-attendant, who, at the imminent risk of his life, saved hundreds. If I had not hurt my leg and been otherwise much bruised, I would have waited on you; but hope this will be a passable excuse.—I am, with respect, sir, your most obedient humble servant,
"'Ed. Pellew.'"
Services performed in the sight of thousands could not thus be concealed. Praise was lavished upon him from every quarter. The corporation of Plymouth voted him the freedom of the town. The merchants of Liverpool presented him with a valuable service of plate. On the 5th of March following he was created a baronet as Sir Edward Pellew, of Ireverry, and received for an honourable augmentation of his arms a civic wreath, a stranded ship for a crest, and the motto "Deo adjuvante Fortuna sequatur." This motto, so modest, and not less expressive of his own habitual feeling, was chosen by himself, in preference to one proposed which was more personally complimentary.
In 1799 he removed into L'Impétueux, of seventy-four guns, and later to Le Tonnant, of eighty guns, soon after being raised to the rank of rear-admiral and placed in command of the fleet in the East Indies, where he exterminated the French cruisers and remained until 1809. After this he served in the North Sea and then in the Mediterranean. His services were rewarded with a peerage, to which he was raised as Baron Exmouth, and a pension of £2,000 a year. In 1816 he proceeded to the Barbary States on a mission to liberate the Christian slaves; but finding on his return that his treaties were disregarded, he returned to Algiers and bombarded the town, reducing the enemy to submission, for which service he was made a viscount. In 1817 he was appointed to the chief command at Plymouth, and in 1821 he returned from active service, but was made Vice-admiral of England in 1832. "Few men," says a biographer, "in the naval service of this country—eminently distinguished as many have been—ever bore so prominent a part, or evinced more determined courage and coolness in the discharge of their arduous duties than did this gallant, humane and active officer. He seemed to be a very beau idéal of a British sailor; his undaunted courage and enterprise was strikingly shown in his manly aspect, and though a perfect disciplinarian, his hearty and encouraging words produced a magic effect on his officers and men, while they always felt the fullest confidence in his skill and intrepidity. He died in January 1833."
On January 21st, 1793, Louis XVI. of France was guillotined, and in the following month the French Republic declared war against England. Fully sensible of their inability to cope with the English in regular naval warfare the French contented themselves for some time with sending out cruisers and small squadrons and even single ships; and these were so successful that in the month of May, 1794, ninety-nine ships were taken by the French, whereas only one, a frigate of thirty-eight guns, was captured by the English.
At length the French government were compelled to attempt a naval armament on a larger scale, for their harvest failed them, and in dread of famine they were compelled to look abroad for sources of supply. The stability of their own government depended upon the success with which they dealt with this difficulty, for it was not to be expected that a new government, deriving its power and authority from the people, would be able to continue if the nation became irritated and excited by the pressure of famine. And yet the difficulties that beset their path were all but insurmountable. The nations of Europe were almost without exception hostile to them, and America was almost the only country to which they could look for help, and the task of convoying supplies from America while the English were masters of the sea was one attended with very great difficulty and risk.
The French Government, however, had only a choice of difficulties. If they sent their fleet to sea it must encounter the English fleet; if they did not send a fleet to sea they were sure to lose their convoy of provisions and worse disasters would follow. There can be no doubt, however, that, under the circumstances, the utter destruction even of the whole fleet would have been a much less serious evil than the loss of the provision convoy, for the fleet might, in the course of time, be replaced, but if the provisions were taken France would either be actually starved or the people, under the apprehension of starvation, would rise against the government.
It was therefore resolved to send the French fleet to sea; and about the middle of May a fleet, under the command of Rear-admiral Villaret, sailed from Brest; Jean Bon St. Andre, one of the representatives of the people, sailing on board the admiral's ship to stimulate and encourage the expedition.
Lord Howe, aware of the expected convoy, proceeded to sea early in the same month with twenty-six sail of the line in the hope of intercepting it. On the 19th as he was cruising off Brest, he received information that the enemy's fleet had put to sea, and on the same evening he received despatches from Rear-admiral Montague, who was also cruising in the Channel, which induced him to attempt a junction of the two fleets. Had this been effected Lord Howe would have had a very great superiority over the French fleet; but in the meantime he learnt that the French were but a few leagues to the westward, and he was consequently obliged to alter his course to go in quest of them.
Early in the morning of May 28th the advanced English frigates discovered the French fleet far on the weather bow of the English admiral's ship. At first the enemy did not appear to see the English, for they came down for some time in very loose order; but when they came nearer they hauled to the wind. They were, however, very slow in completely forming in regular order of battle, occupying indeed several hours in the operation. This circumstance was of great consequence to Lord Howe, as it afforded time for the detached part of the British fleet, commanded by Rear-admiral Pasley, to be placed advantageously for effecting an impression on their rear; and in the meantime the whole of the English fleet was making a nearer approach.
In the French official report of the engagement given by Jean Bon St. Andre, he observes that while the two fleets continued manœuvring, one of the ships, La Révolutionnaire, from motives not understood by the rest of the fleet, slackened its sails on the approach of the English; and that Admiral Pasley taking advantage of this circumstance, led on his division and attacked this vessel. In the conflict the British rear-admiral had his top mast disabled; assistance was therefore immediately ordered, and Lord Hugh Seymour, in the Leviathan, pushed up also to attack the Révolutionnaire, and was supported by Captain Parker, of the Audacious. The captain of the Révolutionnaire was killed and the vessel greatly damaged. English official accounts add that the Révolutionnaire struck to the Audacious. Night, however, put an end to the conflict; and in the morning a French ship fell in with the Révolutionnaire and towed her into Rochefort.
During the whole of the night of the 28th the two fleets continued in sight of each other; and on the morning of the following day Lord Howe made the signal for the fleet to tack, with the intention, if possible, of making some further impression on the rear of the enemy. As soon as the French admiral perceived this manœuvre he also made the signal for his fleet to wear from van to rear, and continued edging down in a line for the purpose of bringing the van of the British fleet to action. Lord Howe upon this made the signal for passing through the enemy's line, and a severe action commenced. The Cæsar, which was the leading ship of the British van, did not, however, keep to the wind; and this circumstance appearing likely to prevent the movement of passing the French line from taking its full and proper effect, the admiral immediately tacked, and being followed and supported by the Bellerophon and the Leviathan, passed through between the fifth and sixth ships of the line of the enemy. Lord Howe having accomplished this part of his plan, put about again, in preparation for renewing the attack; but after manœuvring and counter-manœuvring for some time the French wore round and stood away in order of battle, on the larboard tack, followed by the British fleet in the same order. The fleets then remained separated a few miles; and as there was a very thick fog they were seldom seen by each other. This fog lasted for the greater part of the two following days.
The object of the British admiral, hitherto, had been to obtain the weather-gauge of the enemy, in order that he might not only compel him to fight, but to fight on terms and in a situation comparatively favourable to himself. Having succeeded in this object, an opportunity occurred on June 1st for bringing the French fleet to close and general action. Lord Howe accordingly threw out the signal for his ships to bear up together and come to close action, between seven and eight o'clock in the morning. The French fleet originally consisted of twenty-six sail of the line, and the British of the same force; but on the part of the former the Révolutionnaire had been towed into Rochefort; and on the part of the latter the Audacious had parted company after her engagement with the Révolutionnaire.
The battle immediately commenced and was carried on in a very courageous manner on both sides; but though the revolutionary spirit of the French officers and seamen incited them to fight with more obstinacy than they generally displayed in naval engagements, it could not give them discipline, skill and experience equal to that of the British, and they soon became sensible that the victory could not be with them. Several of the ships on both sides were dismasted, and the carnage was very great. In the French official account of the battle it was stated that the officers and crew of Le Vengeance, of seventy-four guns, displayed a true republican spirit; that after the lower decks were under water and destruction inevitable, they continued to fire the upper tier; and that at the moment the ship went to the bottom the air resounded with the cry of "Vive la république, vive la liberté et la France."
Giffard in his "Deeds of Naval Daring" gives several anecdotes of incidents which occurred during this famous day. He says, "On the morning of June 1st Rear-admiral Neuilly, pointing out to Captain Troubridge, at that time a prisoner on board the Sans Pareil, our fleet sailing parallel to them, said, 'Your people are not disposed to fight; they won't venture down.' Troubridge, who had seen the signal flying for breakfast on board the ships of the British fleet, was at the time partaking of the same meal, and, dropping the loaf he held, he placed his hand on the French officer's shoulder, saying, 'Not fight! stop till they have had their breakfasts. I know John Bull well, and when his belly is full, you will get it. Depend on it, they will pay you a visit in half an hour.' In a few minutes after the British fleet bore up to engage. During the action Troubridge was sent below, where for some time he leaned against the fore-mast. Suddenly he felt the vibration of the mast as it was struck by a shot, and heard it fall over the side, when, grasping the astounded Frenchman appointed to guard him with both hands, he began to caper about with all the gestures of a maniac. Lord Howe, in the Queen Charlotte, wished to be placed alongside the Montagne, the French admiral's ship, and gave his orders to his master accordingly. As they approached the French line it appeared so compact and close that a doubt was expressed whether they could get through; while closing with the Montagne, the master, who held the helm, called out that they would be on board the next ship. 'What's that to you, sir?' said Lord Howe. Bowen, the master, as bold a man as his admiral, replied coolly in an undertone, 'If you don't care, I am sure I don't. I'll go near enough to singe some of our whiskers.' The Queen Charlotte dashed through the line, brushed the ensign of the French admiral's (Villaret Joyeuse) flag ship on one side, grazing on the other the Jacobin's mizen shrouds with her jibboom, an exploit which has never been equalled, although approached by Collingwood at Trafalgar. The cannonade was tremendous and our gunnery most effective. The broadside poured into the stern of the Montagne as the Queen Charlotte passed made a hole, said the sailors, large enough to row the admiral's barge through it. Howe's masts were shot away as the Montagne ceased firing; this gave her the opportunity to make off to leeward. The Queen, Defence, Marlborough, Royal George, and Brunswick were the only ships which, like Howe's, pushed through the enemy's line on that memorable and eventful day. The Queen, in which Lord Gardner's flag was flying, was dreadfully cut up; her Captain, Hutt, died of his wounds, and has a monument in St. Paul's. Gardner learned during the engagement that a near relative, to whom he was attached, was killed. He went on giving his orders in an unaltered tone; but as the wind for a moment cleared off the smoke, marks of tears were on his face; they were easily traced, for it was besmeared with smoke and powder. The Defence, Captain Gambier, got into the midst of the French ships, lost her main and mizen masts and behaved in the most gallant manner. Captain Berkeley of the Marlborough was carried off deck wounded, and the second lieutenant, Seymour, afterwards Sir Michael, lost an arm. The ship was reduced to a wreck, but was fought to the last by Lieutenant Monckton. While the bowsprit of the Impétueux was over the Marlborough's quarters, a sailor, leaping over, said he would pay them a visit. He was called to take a sword. 'I'll find one there,' he said, and actually came back with two of the enemy's cutlasses in his hands. The Brunswick had a figure-head of the duke, with a laced cocked-hat on; the hat was shot off. The crew thinking that a prince of that house should not be uncovered in the face of an enemy, sent a request to their captain to supply the loss. He ordered his servant to give them his cocked-hat. The carpenter nailed it on, and there it remained until the battle was over. These incidents, amidst a terrific fire, paint our sailors as they were and as they are. Harvey, the captain of the Brunswick, died of his wounds."
In less than an hour after the engagement had become close and general the French admiral, who had been engaged by Lord Howe's ship, the Queen Charlotte, made all sail and crowded off, followed by nearly all the ships in his van that were in a condition to carry sail; ten or twelve of those that were dismasted, or much crippled, were left behind. Had the British fleet not been very much disabled all these must have been captured; but in consequence of their state several of them escaped; two or three, even under a sprit sail singly or a smaller sail, hoisted on the stump of the foremast, were able to get away. Six, however, were secured and captured—viz., La Juste of eighty guns; La Sans Pareille of eighty guns; L'Amérique of seventy-four guns; L'Achille of seventy-four guns; L'Impétueux of seventy-four guns; and the Northumberland of seventy-four guns; these added to Le Vengeur and Le Jacobin, which were also sunk, made the whole loss of the French amount to eight ships of the line. The return of those killed on board of the English fleet was two hundred and seventy-two, and of wounded seven hundred and eighty-seven. The loss of the French is not accurately known, but it is believed to have been much greater than that of the English. On board of La Montagne the captain was killed and nearly three hundred men were either killed or wounded. In the ships that were taken six hundred and ninety men were killed and five hundred and eighty wounded; besides, it is supposed that three hundred and twenty perished in Le Vengeur.
Though this victory was a great triumph to the English and a severe blow to the arms of the Republic, the French can hardly be said to have failed in the object of their expedition; for while Lord Howe was engaged in chasing and fighting the French fleet, the provision convoy, which the French fleet came out to protect, managed to escape him, and one hundred and sixty sail of vessels, valued at five millions sterling, and conveying an immense quantity of provisions and naval stores, arrived from America safe in port a few days after the engagement.
On the Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday immediately following the publication of the "Extraordinary Gazette" which announced Lord Howe's victory there were illuminations in all parts of the metropolis; a subscription was almost immediately raised at Lloyd's Coffee House for the widows and children of the seamen who fell in the engagement, and the proprietors of Drury Lane Theatre gave a clear benefit, which produced upwards of one thousand three hundred pounds, in aid of the subscription.
In order to show all due honour to the fleet which had achieved such a victory, on Thursday, June 26th, George III. and Queen Charlotte and three of the princesses arrived at Portsmouth; the three younger princesses having come down the day before. The royal party then proceeding in barges in the usual procession, and receiving the customary honours, visited Lord Howe's ship at Spithead. Here His Majesty held a naval levée, and presented Lord Howe with a diamond-hilted sword, the value of which was three thousand guineas, and a gold chain, to which a medal was afterwards suspended, to be worn round the neck. After these ceremonies were gone through the royal party dined with Lord Howe on board his ship. His lordship was also raised to the rank of an earl for his glorious services in the battle.
A STORY OF "BILLY BLUE."
After the defeat of the French by Lord Howe on the 1st of June, 1794, the French navy was much too shattered to attempt anything like offensive warfare for some time. Notwithstanding this, however, fortune favoured France with an opportunity of revenge as early as the following year.
In June, 1795, Admiral Cornwallis, known in the fleet as "Billy Blue," was cruising off Belle Isle when on the 7th he fell in with a fleet of merchantmen under the convoy of three ships of the line and six frigates. His own force consisted of five sail of the line and two frigates, with which he made an easy capture of eight of the enemy's ships, the men-of-war effecting their escape. On the 16th, however, came the Frenchman's opportunity of turning the tables; for, as the admiral was standing in towards the land, near the Penmarks, one of his frigates signalled the sighting of the enemy's fleet, which numbered thirteen sail of the line, several frigates, two brigs and a cutter. The wind at first falling calm and afterwards coming round to the north, the enemy's ships were enabled to get to windward, and the next morning by daylight they were seen mooring on both quarters of the British squadron.
During the preceding day and night the admiral himself had led the retreating ships in the Royal Sovereign, in order that he might be able to take advantage of any favourable opportunity that might present itself in the night for altering his course and getting away unperceived by the enemy; but with daylight he changed his disposition, ordering the two heavy sailing ships, the Brunswick and the Bellerophon, to lead, and the Mars and Triumph to form the rear, while he himself, in the Royal Sovereign, formed a connecting link, and was prepared to bear down to the assistance of any of his squadron that might particularly need his help. It was now in the power of the French admiral to have engaged closely, and at about nine o'clock in the morning a line-of-battle ship and a frigate opened their fire upon the Mars. From this time a pretty constant cannonade was kept up, the French ships firing at a distance as they came up, and three of the English ships returning it. Such was the bad sailing of the Brunswick and Bellerophon that their fire was quite lost and they were obliged to keep their course without retaliating; in fact, it became necessary to cut away their anchors and launches, throw overboard part of their ballast, and crowd all the sail they could carry, to enable them to keep their proper place, while the Mars and Triumph continued under easy sail. The day had nearly passed over, and there was no serious appearance of attack; but as the afternoon drew on, the enemy, as if ashamed of having yet done nothing effectual to check the progress, or even to ruffle the majestic steadiness of our little line, seemed to be inclined to close upon the rear ship, the Mars. Two or three of them had fore-reached upon her beam, and a beautiful eighty-four-gun ship was hauling towards her, as if determined to act as champion, and by arresting one of the ships to bring the matter to an immediate issue, when an incident occurred which completely deceived the enemy.
In the early morning the admiral had called by signal for a boat from the Phaëton, and as her young officer, afterwards Admiral Sir Francis Beaufort, K.C.B., was eagerly springing up the Royal Sovereign's side, he was stopped by the noble old admiral's foot and the words, "Stop, sir; listen: go back immediately and tell your captain to go ahead of the squadron a long way, and, when far enough off, to make the signals for seeing first one or two strange sail, then more, and then a fleet; in short, to humbug those fellows astern. He will understand me. Go." The Phaëton sailed well, but it took a long time to get to the admiral's "far enough," in order to give colour and credibility to her signals. At length, about three o'clock p.m., she made the signal for a stranger, then two, five, and then for a fleet, which was made by letting fly the top-gallant sheets and firing a lee gun. It was well known that the French had copies of our "Tabular" signals, and by them Captain Stopford announced that the fleet was English; the large recall flag (the Dutch ensign) was then hoisted to bring them into the squadron, and when time had been given for the supposed answer, the Phaëton wore round, under easy sail, towards the squadron, thus implying that a fleet of English ships was following her, and, passing under the admiral's stern, gave him three cheers.
By a happy coincidence two or three small distant vessels were at that time actually peeping up on the horizon; but the bait had been fully swallowed; a flood of signals was made by the enemy—their fire became languid—and at half-past six their whole force tacked off to the eastward, leaving our gallant squadron to enjoy the fruit of their bravery and wit.
In the official announcement of this encounter the admiral gives full credit to his gallant companions, as well as to Sir C. Cotton and Sir Erasmus Gower, who, in the Mars and Triumph, bore the brunt of the fray. Of the officers, seamen and marines, he says that, "instead of being cast down at seeing thirty sail of the enemy's ships attacking our little squadron, they were in the highest spirits imaginable, and although circumstanced as we were, we had no great reason to complain of the conduct of the enemy, yet our men could not help repeatedly expressing their contempt of them. Could common prudence have allowed me to let loose their valour I hardly know what might not have been accomplished by such men."
Of the admiral himself we are told that, on the anxious morning he continued the operation of shaving, dressing and powdering with his usual composure, and observed to Captain Whitby, in his customary cool and dry manner, that he had been in similar situations before, and knew very well what they, the French, would do. More than once during the day he repeated that sooner than abandon his comrades in the slow sailers, the Brunswick and the Bellerophon, the Royal Sovereign should go down with her colours flying.
Admiral (then Captain) Cornwallis had previously exhibited great daring in Rodney's celebrated action in 1782, when, in the Canada, seventy-four, after having defeated the Hector, a ship of equal force, single-handed, he bore down upon the huge Ville de Paris, and lay her alongside and commenced a combat which lasted two hours. A point of honour prevented De Grasse striking to anything short of a flag; but when Sir Samuel Hood came up in the Barfleur the count surrendered, having only three men, of whom he himself was one, alive and unhurt upon his upper deck. He declared, after the action, that the little red-sided ship (the Canada) had done him more harm than all the rest with which he had contended.
The fleet from which Admiral Cornwallis thus escaped were not destined long to boast of their triumph; for on the 22nd of the same month, Lord Bridport, with fourteen sail of the line and eight frigates, fell in with them, and as they indicated no intention to fight him, made the signal for four of his best sailing vessels to chase. As there was very little wind the pursuit continued all that day and during the night. Early on the morning of the 23rd some of the British ships came up with the enemy; and a little before six o'clock the action began, and continued till three in the afternoon. The French kept as near their own shore as possible; so that only three were captured—the Alexander, which had been taken from the British the preceding year, the Formidable and the Tigre. The rest of the French squadron escaped into L'Orient. The loss of the British in this action was thirty-one killed and one hundred and fifteen wounded; the loss of the French was not accurately ascertained.