The answer is quite simple, and I give it on the authority of an old skipper contemporary with these ships, named Hutchinson, who at one time of his life had been a privateer. The reader will remember that in an earlier chapter I drew attention to the slackness of morals and general spirit of irreligion which were notorious of the mid-eighteenth century, at any rate so far as English people were concerned. Naturally enough this spirit spread to the ships of the East India Company, so that the corruption ashore had its counterpart afloat. Now these craft, when they were of 500 tons and over, were compelled to carry a chaplain. And it was just in order to be able to dispense with the latter, and so save expense, that the owners used to cause these ships to be rated at 499 tons, and so keep within the letter of the law. These 499-ton ships carried a captain, four mates, a surgeon and a purser. They would sail from the Downs about January or March of one year, proceed to India or China, and then be back again in the London river by June or July of the following year, though sometimes they were away for much longer periods. When homeward bound they had called at Portsmouth—where the more wealthy passengers went ashore and proceeded home by road—and the Downs, they eventually made fast to moorings at one of three places—Blackwall, Deptford and North-fleet.

We spoke, also, some time back of what were known as “hereditary bottoms,” by which it was meant that an owner who had been accustomed to charter one of his ships to the Company had a proprietary right to supply other ships when this one had been worn out. Thus one finds, for instance, a ship called the Brunswick built on the bottom of the Atlas, the Hindostan built on the bottom of the Grosvenor, and so on. This went on for year after year, so that you could make out a kind of genealogical tree of East India ships. It was a very clear instance of eighteenth-century monopoly which would be hard to beat. But this principle of perpetuity came to an end on 6th February 1796, when open competition was introduced. There can be no question that this decision, together with that of abolishing the sale of commands, was all for the good of the service. The Company themselves recognised that it was the only way in which they could have an efficient fleet, always ready and consisting of vessels built on the best principles, inspected during construction by the Company’s own surveyors, and commanded by officers “of acknowledged character, talents and experience,” and various by-laws were passed to this effect. The following list will afford the reader some idea of the size and dimensions of these East Indiamen ships at the close of the eighteenth century. The difference between the burthen tonnage and the chartered tonnage is noticeable:—

The science and art of shipbuilding in England during the eighteenth century were very defective compared with France. But during the last decade of this, and the early part of the nineteenth century, improvements were taking place. Papers were being read before the Royal Society, treatises were being published, a number of valuable experiments were being made and the best lessons of the French were being studied. To all this must be attributed the better type of East Indiaman which was to follow. The continued demand for tea made it necessary to have fine, big ships which could get the cargoes of this perishable commodity to London as soon as possible. It was always reckoned that an 800-ton ship would be able to bring home about 750,000 lb. of tea, and a 1200-ton ship nearly 1,500,000 lb. Some idea of the increased popularity of this commodity in England will be ascertained when it is stated that during the year 1765 five million lbs. were brought home and sold by the Company. By 1784 the average was about six million lb., the following year this figure was more than doubled, and by the end of the century it was nearly twenty-four million lb. There was, therefore, every need for fine, big ships of good lines. And by an Act of 1799 the Company were restricted from employing in their service any ships but those contracted for six voyages to India or China and back. Whenever they wished to have more ships built, they were to give public notice of this by advertisement four weeks ahead, inviting tenders for building and freighting.

But in the year 1803 the Company were empowered to engage ships for two additional voyages, making eight in all. Two reasons were given for this innovation. First, if was found that the ships now being built were of such a character that they could be repaired and refitted to perform these two additional voyages with great advantage. And secondly, it was contended that if fewer ships were built, this would “be the means of lessening the consumption of ship-timber.” It will be recollected that in the year 1803 Napoleon had openly and intentionally insulted the British Ambassador, and that in the month of May war was again declared, and both nations made elaborate preparations for the resumption of hostilities, the British taking time by the forelock and sending squadrons to watch Brest and Toulon. All this warlike activity on sea made it not any easier for the East Indiamen to go about their lawful business. In effect it meant that they must be fitted out with even greater care and that they must be armed as strongly as ever they could be. And this, in turn, meant that the cost to the owners of the ships was much increased. “War extraordinaries,” as they were called, were always a source of keen dispute during those anxious years, between the Company and the shipowners, and in this present case the Company were authorised to pay higher rates owing to the increased expense to the owners.

But such was the improvement in the class of vessel now built that in the year 1810 they were allowed by Act of Parliament to engage ships even beyond the allotted eight voyages, provided that after being repaired they were found fit for service. The Company were also allowed to take up by private contract certain other ships in order to bring home the cargoes from China and India. Under this class were chartered vessels which had taken out to New South Wales convicts and stores. The East India Company had already come to the country’s aid again during that year, 1803. Ten thousand tons of shipping did they lend to the State for six months free of charge, though this meant a loss to the Company of £67,000. These ships were employed in guarding the British coast against the threatened invasion by the French; and in other ways they were found very useful to the Admiralty.

In peace time they would go out to India with troops and stores, calling at St Helena on the way, and then return home with cargoes from China and India. In the last-mentioned territorial waters they were almost as likely to be annoyed by the attentions of the press-gangs as they were in English waters, for his Majesty’s ships out there were sadly in need of men. Repeated complaints were made by the Company in regard to this, even as they had previously complained of what used to take place at home. But repeated and indignant representations proved ineffectual. Captains of the Royal Navy must have men for their ships, and the distance between England and India was too great for much interference under this category, so things went on pretty much as before.

It will have been noticed from the list of the East India Company’s ships given on an earlier page in this chapter that the size had immensely increased. Big ships always necessitate big accommodation when they reach port. These particular craft were far and away the biggest merchant ships in the world, for no other trade either required or could afford such vessels. This being so, the East Indiamen when they now arrived in the Thames were compelled to lie many miles down the river, since there was no accommodation for them higher up. But this was to subject them to a grave risk. They came home with most valuable cargoes which meant not only very much to the Company, but were actually of some national importance. As they lay out in the river a good deal of pilfering went on, and the loss was very serious, not merely to the Company and the shipowners, but to the State, which lost a good deal of customs duty thereby, since the goods thus pilfered were then smuggled ashore. It was therefore realised that the only remedy was to have a sufficient area of wet docks in which the ships could be loaded and unloaded. A number of gentlemen therefore decided to form a joint-stock company with a capital of £200,000 in order to provide wet docks to be enclosed by proper walls and ditches, and communicating with the Thames. These docks were to be appropriated solely for the ships in the India trade, who should pay a duty of 14s. a ton in the case of a registered English ship, and 12s. a ton for every India-built ship navigated by lascars. It was ordered that the hatches of every ship arriving from India or China should be locked down before the ship reached Gravesend, and the captain, and one of the two officers next to him in command, must remain on board until such time as the ship was moored in the docks, and the keys of the hatches handed over to an officer of the East India Company. Of the thirteen directors of these docks, four must be directors of the East India Company.

The result of this was that the East India Docks, so well known to all who take any interest in the port of London, were brought into being. During the early part of the year 1914, whilst alterations were being made in connection with the elaborate scheme for the improvement of London’s shipping facilities, the original foundation-stone of the undertaking was discovered. This had been laid as far back as 4th March 1804. It had been submerged in the import dock, but was revealed at the base of one of the old quay walls, from which it slightly projected. On its top were found recorded the names of Mr Joseph Cotton, who was then Chairman of the East India Dock Company, and of Mr John Woolmore, the deputy chairman. The inscription stated that the stone had been laid by Mr Joseph Huddart, F.R.S., and the names of the engineers, Mr John Rennie and Mr Ralph Walker, were added. After the dock was opened there were for many years seen therein the pick of the world’s shipping. But now, with the overwhelming conquest of the steamship the whole aspect has been quite changed. Gone are those fine old wind-jammers, gone is the romance of these ships from the Orient, gone is the stately, naval system under which these vessels were run, gone are the handsome opportunities for making fortunes which were then open to the captains and officers of the mercantile marine.

In some years these ships were very unfortunate. The years 1808 and 1809 were particularly unhappy for the Company’s craft. Ten homeward-bound East Indiamen were lost, and with them vanished over a million sterling. The months of November 1808 and March 1809 were notoriously stormy. Even such big craft as the Britannia (1200 tons) and the True Briton (1198 tons) were lost during this period. The former went down off the South Foreland on 25th January 1809. The latter had parted company from the Bombay ships on 13th October in that year, whilst sailing in the China seas, and was never heard of again. The Admiral Gardner had set forth from the Downs on 24th January 1809, and also foundered off the South Foreland on the same day as the Britannia. The Calcutta parted company with the other East Indiamen off Mauritius on 14th March 1809, and was never seen again. Other ships were captured by the enemy, some were blown up, others ended their days by fire, some ran ashore, but as a rule these old East Indiamen managed to get their freights into the London river with safety.

About the year 1809 the rates of insurance between Bengal and England were £7, 7s. for the regular East Indiaman, and £7 on her cargo. In the case of “extra” ships the premium was £9, 9s. on the ship and £9 on the cargo. India-built ships were not insured at all, but the cargo was insured at £15, 15s. If the Company’s ships were convoyed home, then the “extra” craft were charged only £1 from Bengal to St Helena, and another £1 from St Helena to England. If there were more than one ship then only 19s. was charged in both cases, but India-built ships in these instances were charged £2, 10s.

The number of ships employed for the India and China trade during the years 1803 to 1808 will be found indicative of the Company’s activities. These varied from forty-four to fifty-three, and their burden from 36,671 to 45,342 tons. They ran great risks sometimes, but in spite of occasional casualties they were often more than able to look after themselves, when no naval force could be spared to convoy them. One of the most famous instances on record is that in which the exploits of a certain Captain Nathaniel Dance figured prominently. This gallant commander was in charge of the Company’s ship Earl Camden. This vessel was of 1200 tons charter, and had sailed from England in the season of 1802-1803. She had put into Torbay, and left there on 4th January 1803, and proceeded to Bombay and China. On the last day of January in the following year she had filled up her holds and began her return voyage from China. With her sailed also fifteen other East Indiamen, named respectively the Warley, Alfred, Royal George, Coutts, Wexford, Ganges, Exeter, Earl of Abergavenny, Henry Addington, Bombay Castle, Cumberland, Hope, Dorsetshire, Warren Hastings and Ocean. And inasmuch as Captain Dance was the senior commander he acted as commodore for this China fleet. In addition to these sixteen vessels a number of other vessels were put under his charge to convoy them as far as their courses were the same. These vessels included a dozen “country” ships.

The “country” trade, by the way, was the trade between India and the East as far as China and Manila. It was largely carried on by civil servants of the East India Company and the free merchants living under the Company’s protection. In effect the Company resigned this trade to these people, the scope of this commerce to the westward extending as far as the Red Sea, the principal commodities being indigo, pepper and cotton. Of the East India Company’s ships the Ganges was a fast-sailing brig, which was to be employed by Dance in any way that might tend to the safety and convenience of the fleet until it had passed through the Straits of Malacca, when he was to send her on to Bengal.

On the 14th of February at daybreak the Royal George made a signal to the commodore that she had sighted four strange sail to the south-west. Thereupon Dance signalled that the Alfred, Royal George, Bombay Castle and the Hope should run down and examine them. It happened that among the passengers aboard Dance’s ship was Lieutenant Fowler, R.N., and the latter, who had recently been commander of the Porpoise, offered to go in the Ganges brig and, getting quite close up to the strange craft, examine them carefully. To this the commodore assented, and away she went too. After a while Dance learned by signal that the four strange vessels were none other than a squadron of the enemy, consisting of a line-of-battle ship, two frigates and a brig. At one P.M. Dance signalled to his scouts to return, and formed the line of battle in close order. Now this merchant captain was a decidedly able tactician, and it is most interesting to note the way he disposed his forces for battle.

When the enemy saw that they could “fetch” in the wake of the East Indiamen, they went about, but the commodore held on his course, keeping under easy sail. About sunset the enemy were close up to the rear of the English fleet, and as Dance momentarily expected his rear ships would be attacked, he stood by to succour them. But as the day ended no attack came, and the enemy hauled off to windward. Meanwhile the commodore sent Lieutenant Fowler in the Ganges to station the twelve country ships to leeward of the line of East Indiamen, so that the latter were between the enemy and the country ships. This was duly carried out and Mr Fowler returned, bringing with him some volunteers from the latter to help work the East Indiamen in the fight. All night long the ships lay in their line of battle, and at daybreak the enemy were descried about three miles to windward hove-to. The English ships now hoisted their colours and offered battle. The enemy’s four ships hoisted French colours. These ships consisted of the Marengo, an 84-gun ship with 1200 men; the Belle Poule, 44 guns and 490 men; the Semilante, 36 guns and 400 men; and the Berceau, 32 guns and 350 men. The Marengo was seen to be flying the flag of a rear-admiral. In addition there was an 18-gun brig under Dutch colours.

At nine A.M., as the enemy showed no signs of engaging, the commodore formed the order of sailing and resumed his course, still under easy sail. But the enemy now filled his sails and edged towards the China fleet. At 1 P.M. it was obvious that the rear-admiral’s intention was to cut off the English rear, so Dance made the signal to tack and bear down on him and engage him in succession, the Royal George being the leading ship, the Ganges second, and the Earl Camden (flagship) next. This was done and then under a press of sail the British ships ran towards the enemy—a very magnificent sight for those privileged to behold it. The enemy then formed in a very close line, and opened fire on the first ships, but this was not returned until the distance was much reduced. The Royal George had to bear the brunt of the engagement, being in the van, and in consequence suffered, but she got as close as she could to the enemy. As soon as their guns could have effect, the Ganges and Earl Camden opened fire, and the rest of the ships were ready to go into action as soon as their guns could bear. But before this was possible the French rear-admiral had taken alarm, the enemy hauled their wind and made away to the eastward, with every stitch of sail they could set. They had been beaten—and by merchantmen.

Dance then made the signal for a general chase. This was at 2 P.M., and the retreating enemy were pursued for two hours, but as the commodore feared that further pursuit would take his fleet too far from the Straits, and that his first duty was to preserve his ships rather than give the enemy any further beating, he made the signal to tack, and at 8 P.M. anchored for the night, so as to be able to make for the entrance of the Straits in the morning. The casualties were confined to the Royal George, which had lost one man killed and one more wounded. Her sails and hull had received many shot, but both the Ganges and the Earl Camden were practically untouched. The enemy’s gunnery was distinctly bad, the shot falling either short or over.

Every man who took part in this extraordinary engagement had done his duty handsomely. Captain Timins of the Royal George had taken his ship into action most gallantly, but every ship in the English line had been cleared and prepared for action, anxious to have the opportunity of showing their worth. As the enemy had now long since disappeared there was nothing for Dance to do but continue on his homeward voyage. From Malacca he despatched Fowler in the Ganges brig to Pulo Penang, asking the captain of any of his Majesty’s ships to convoy this exceedingly valuable fleet—the value of the sixteen ships together with their cargoes and private property amounting to nearly eight million pounds sterling. It was learned at Malacca that the squadron which had just been encountered was that of Admiral Linois, comprising a battleship, two heavy frigates, a corvette and the brig.

On the 28th of February, whilst in the Straits of Malacca, Dance’s fleet fell in with two of his Majesty’s ships, Albion and Sceptre, and the Albion’s captain was prevailed upon to take charge now of the fleet, considering its national importance, and on the 9th of June these treasure ships reached St Helena, still under the convoy of the two British men-of-war. There the latter parted company from the merchantmen, and instead H.M.S. Plantagenet convoyed them to England, where they arrived early in the month of August. The news of this successful engagement, the circumstance that an enemy’s fleet had been put to flight and chased by a fleet of East Indiamen caused the greatest acclamation in London. The Patriotic Fund Committee presented Commodore Dance with a sword of the value of £100, and a silver vase of the same worth; to Captain Timins a sword of the value of £50, and each of the other captains, as well as to Lieutenant Fowler.

As for the directors of the East India Company, they showed their appreciation of the gallantry and the preservation of their property in the most handsome manner. Setting aside about £50,000 they rewarded Commodore Dance with the sum of 2000 guineas, and a piece of plate valued at 200 guineas. To Captain Timins 1000 guineas and a piece of plate valued at 100 guineas. To Captain Moffat 500 guineas and a piece of plate valued at 100 guineas. The other thirteen captains were each awarded 500 guineas and a piece of plate valued at 50 guineas. The chief officers received each 150 guineas, the second officers 125 guineas, and so on down to the boatswains, who got 50 guineas, and the seamen and servants 6 guineas each. The Company also presented Lieutenant Fowler with 300 guineas and a piece of plate, as well as 500 guineas to the captain of the Plantagenet, who had convoyed them home from St Helena.

Commodore Sir Nathaniel Dance was offered a baronetcy, which he refused, but accepted a knighthood: and thus ended the last chapter in an incident that was the pride and subject of yarning among the men of the East India Company’s service for many a long day. It certainly shows the British merchant sailor at his best—ready for a fight, going into the engagement gallantly, and yet all the while remembering that his first duty is to his owners and to get ships and cargoes safely to port without unnecessarily wasting valuable time.

CHAPTER XV

AT SEA IN THE EAST INDIAMEN

The first decade of the nineteenth century had been very unfortunate for the East India Company. There had been the losses of those ships already mentioned, owing to disasters at sea. This meant not only the loss to the Company of the rich cargoes, but of the advances to the owners amounting to thousands of pounds. The French war had also not merely interfered with the coming and going of the merchant ships, but it had thrown the whole of Europe into such a state of bewilderment that commerce generally was paralysed, and therefore the trade in Indian goods to the different parts of the Continent was exceedingly curtailed. Notwithstanding all that had been done by the Act of 1796, and the superintendence which was exercised over the Company, the latter was anything but prosperous. It had been engaged in hostilities with the Mahrattas and other Eastern powers. The result had been the acquisition of vast territory which was shortly to be for the good of the British Empire. But the immediate result of all this was that the Company’s finances were in a crippled condition. Later on we shall see what a wholesale effect the abolition of the monopoly had on the Eastern trade, dating from the year 1813: but before we come to that I desire to give the reader a fair account of the conditions of life in the East Indiamen of the first part of the nineteenth century. We shall presently proceed to examine these in greater detail, but it will greatly assist the imagination if we look into contemporary accounts left behind by officers who put to sea in these craft.

And first of all let us take the account of that Captain Eastwick whom we introduced to the reader on an earlier page. This time he was proceeding to India, not in his capacity of mercantile officer, but as a passenger. Nevertheless his ripe knowledge and experience were of the greatest value to these East Indiamen, as will be seen. It was a tedious business in those days to get down to Portsmouth, where the wealthier passengers used to join the East Indiamen. Eastwick was taking out to India his sister-in-law on a visit to her brother-in-law, Colonel Gordon. The journey was made to Portsmouth by road, of course, and those who have motored along this Portsmouth road scarcely realise how tedious and risky the journey was in those days. In the month of January 1809 Eastwick and his sister-in-law set out on their journey with a good deal of luggage and jewellery, as well as a hundred pounds in money. They had to cross Hounslow Heath, which was then infested with robbers, and there was every probability of the post-boys being held up, the horses shot and the passengers relieved of their possessions. However, in the present case the journey to Portsmouth was made without adventure, where it was learnt that the Neptune East Indiaman would not sail for another ten days.

This was a vessel of 1200 charter tons, and one of the largest of the East India Company’s fleet, being employed for the voyage to Bombay and China, this being her sixth trip thereto. She was owned by Sir William Fraser, Bart., and commanded by Captain William Donaldson, under whom were a chief officer and three mates, a surgeon and a purser. After the Neptune and her fellow-ships of the Company’s fleet had at last got under way a storm came up—the reader will remember that this year, 1809, was notorious for its virulent weather—and as a result the Henry Addington, another East Indiaman of about the same size, got driven to the eastward round Selsey Bill and struck the Bognor Rocks to the north-eastward of the Bill, and it was only with difficulty that she got off and reached Portsmouth again. This storm had dispersed the whole of the Company’s fleet outward-bound, and the Neptune had found herself in the vicinity of the Channel Islands, where she was in extreme danger. Captain Donaldson ordered the second mate to go aloft and help to take in the foretopsail, but this the officer refused to do, and he was instantly “broke.”

Eastwick thereupon volunteered to fill his place, and this offer was gladly accepted temporarily, the Neptune eventually sailing across the English Channel once more and let go anchor on the Mother Bank (to the west of Ryde, Isle of Wight). Here the ship was refitted for a second attempt, and the second mate had his place now taken by a Mr Richard Alsager, who had lately been M.P. for Surrey. At length the Neptune was ready for sea once more, the heavy weather had given way to beautiful summer, and the wind was fair for making a quick passage down the English Channel: so on 21st June the East India fleet weighed anchor and proceeded, consisting of the Neptune, Henry Addington, Scaleby Castle and the True Briton. These ships were all pretty much of the same size, though the True Briton was of 1198 charter tons. So fine did the weather continue that when the fleet was two days out from England the captain of the Neptune gave a dance on board to the passengers of all the ships, and the following evening another dance was given by the captain of the Henry Addington. Fortunately the passengers were safely rowed across the ocean to the entertaining vessel, and back. But most people will agree with Eastwick’s criticism of this foolish proceeding. “I did not consider it prudent at such a season of the year to do these things at sea.”

So the voyage continued as far as Table Bay with everything in their favour. After rounding the Cape, the Neptune, the Scaleby Castle and the True Briton shaped a course for Bombay, but the Henry Addington was compelled to stay behind in order to repair a bad leak that had broken out afresh. This was doubtless a relic of the incident on Bognor Rocks. Whilst approaching Madagascar Captain Donaldson invited the other two captains to come on board and dine with him, and during the conversation the subject came up of the disagreeable weather met with during the south-west monsoon on going into Bombay. Eastwick offered that if no pilot were available he would take the squadron in, and this the three captains accepted. The next day they encountered just that experience which the reader will remember occurred to some of the first English sailors when bound to India. For a heavy clap of thunder—“so loud it sounded as though a hundred great guns were going off”—broke over the Neptune and an extraordinary flash of lightning took place, and so close that Eastwick declares he saw many electric balls darting into the water. The chief officer was on watch at the time, and came running aft. He announced that the ship had been struck in the foremast and that the lightning had knocked down four of the men. It took the crew afterwards sixteen hours to repair the damage, get up the new foretopmast, foretopgallant mast and yard, for the original ones had been rendered useless.

As the squadron approached Bombay they got into the south-west monsoon, with very thick, dirty weather and a tremendous sea running. It was when they were just a day’s sail off Bombay that the captain of the True Briton, who was acting as commodore of the squadron, made the signal: “Will Eastwick stand by his promise?” This was immediately answered by the affirmative signal, and then the commodore ran up another: “Neptune, go ahead, and lead the way.” So, although a passenger, Eastwick had the honour of taking the squadron into Bombay harbour and never picked up a pilot until ready to let go anchor.

But even more illuminating than Eastwick is a man named Thomas Addison, who was born on 18th December 1785, and made a dozen voyages in the old East Indiamen, entering the service as a midshipman of the Marquis Wellesley in February 1802, and eventually rising to fifth mate, and so to first mate by May 1817. There are of course plenty of log-books and journals still existing, but one has to wade through many pages before one finds anything of real interest. In the case of Addison, however, there is so much in his journals that reveals to us the life and the incidents on board these old ships of the Company’s service that we cannot feel other than grateful that the MS. still exists. After his death these journals eventually passed into the hands of a Norfolk rector, who was good enough to place them in the hands of the Navy Records Society, and a few years ago they were edited by Sir John Laughton and published under the auspices of that Society. It is to this source that I am indebted for the information which is afforded by Addison, though space will not allow of more than a brief outline of his experiences.

He was able to obtain a berth in the Honourable Company’s “Maritime Service” (as it was called, in contradistinction to the Company’s Marine) owing to the influence of a Mr Edmund Antrobus, a teaman and banker in the Strand. The latter took the sixteen-year-old youth and introduced him to a Mr Matthew White, who was the managing owner of the ship Marquis of Wellesley, by whom the midshipman’s appointment had been granted. She was a vessel of 818 charter tons and was now about to start on her second voyage to India, her commander being Captain Bruce Mitchell. Mr White gave Addison a letter of introduction to the chief officer, named Le Blanc, and after the boy had completed his sea-going kit he was taken down to the ship at Gravesend by Mr Antrobus. Addison was now handed over to his future messmates, and then began his initiation. As so many of these old-time ceremonies have long since passed away, it may not be out of place to say Addison was sent up into the mizen top, outside the futtocks, where according to custom he should have been seized up to the rigging by a couple of seamen, had he not received the tip to promise them beforehand a gallon of beer. “In lieu of which, by the by, five gallons was afterwards demanded of me by my messmates, stating that the mizen top was their sole prerogative. This is a very old usage practised on board all ships, considered a fair claim from all strangers on first going aloft.”

In addition to the captain, there were the chief officer, three mates and a large crew. In all there were thirty officers and petty officers, the whole complement amounting to 151, which nowadays would be thought enormous for a ship of her size. The men received two months’ wages in advance before sailing, and in February 1802 made sail down the Thames from Gravesend under the charge of one of the Company’s pilots, who brought her safely into the Downs, where the wind was blowing hard from the south-west, sending in a high sea. Addison was destined at once to have excitement, for about sundown, whilst his Majesty’s frigate Egyptienne was coming to anchor in the Downs, she had shortened sail and left herself too little way to shoot ahead of the Indiaman, with the result that she fell broadside on to the Marquis Wellesley’s bows, tearing away the latter’s cutwater and bowsprit, bringing down the foretopmast also, making in fact a clean sweep of the ship forward. The merchantman was lying to a single anchor at the time, but although it blew most of a gale during the night the ship rode it out all right, and next morning, the weather having moderated, the frigate’s commander sent some hands on board to give the ship a temporary refit. After this the Indiaman proceeded to Portsmouth, where she was fully repaired alongside a man-of-war hulk. On the 4th of March she went out of harbour and anchored at Spithead, where she took on board a number of his Majesty’s dragoons, as well as forty-nine of the East India Company’s troops and their wives for India. The next day, having received the Company’s packet from the India House and the despatches for Bengal and Madras, she weighed anchor in the afternoon and proceeded down Channel.

The last of old England was sighted the following day, and then anchors were unbent and all harbour gear stowed away for the long voyage. Madeira was sighted on the 14th of that month—not a bad passage for a sailing ship—and on the 4th of April the Equator was passed, where the usual ceremonies of crossing the line were undergone. “It being my own and Newton’s [a young messmate’s] first trip into Neptune’s dominions, we underwent the accustomed and awful ordeal of shaving by the hands of his Majesty’s barber, thereby rendering us free mariners of the ocean.” On 24th April they were off the Cape of Good Hope, and on 21st June sighted Ceylon, and three days later arriving at Madras, “Found Admiral Rainier’s squadron riding here, consisting of eight sail. Shortly afterwards a sham fight took place with the fleet and shore, followed by a grand illumination displayed from ships as well as the shore, likewise fireworks and rockets, in commemoration of the Peace of Amiens.”

The Marquis Wellesley left Madras again in February 1803, after visiting ports on the coast, and in July fell in with an American bound from Gibraltar to Boston, and learned from her that war had been declared between England and France, so cartridges were filled and every preparation made on board the East Indiaman for defending herself. On the nineteenth of that month a strange sail appeared. The Indiaman made her private signal, but the stranger did not answer and sailed away. But at midnight she returned and was coming up fast, so the Indiaman at once prepared for action, Addison acting as powder-monkey. But presently she was found to be H.M. frigate Endymion, and sent a boat to the Indiaman in charge of a lieutenant and pressed eight of the merchant ship’s men, for the frigate had captured so many prizes that he had more prisoners on board than all his ship’s company. But before the mouth of the English Channel was reached the Marquis Wellesley was to have further exciting experiences. A few days after the previously mentioned incident, two ships were descried one morning while the people were at breakfast. At first Captain Mitchell bore up to assist one which was flying English colours, but one of the passengers (apparently of the sea-lawyer type which still survives) protested “against the legal propriety of such proceeding on the part of an Indiaman volunteering her services in such an affair,” so Mitchell put his ship again on her course, much to the indignation of a choleric colonel, for the ship with the English colours was subsequently captured.

Later on a large ship hove in sight on the weather bow and stood down towards the Marquis Wellesley. It was now night and the latter at once cleared for action and showed two tiers of lights. The stranger was hailed seven times before it could be ascertained that she was H.M.S. Plantagenet with a sloop-of-war as tender in company. Her captain came on board and complimented Captain Mitchell on the good arrangements made for the defence of the ship, and as he walked round the decks the men remained at quarters. He was good enough also to compliment Mitchell on the clever manner in which he had manœuvred his ship to prevent a raking broadside, but before leaving he “impressed a few hands from us.”

On the 1st of August the Indiaman anchored in the Downs, and one of the Company’s pilots came aboard and took charge of her, bringing with him a number of “ticket-men” to work the ship up the Thames. These were men who were sent from a man-of-war in place of such as had been impressed. On the third of the month the ship had reached her moorings off the Gun Wharf, Deptford, and four days later discharged the ship’s company and hired gangs to deliver the cargo. And then came the final, dramatic touch to this voyage: “Shortly afterwards found that Mr White, managing owner of the Marquis Wellesley, had become bankrupt and was unable to pay the ship’s company.”

Addison’s first voyage had thus begun and ended with adventures. He had got back in the summer of 1803 and soon began to prepare for a second voyage. Through the good offices of his friend Mr Antrobus he once more obtained a berth as midshipman, this time in the Brunswick. The latter was a ship of 1200 charter tons, and was about to make her sixth voyage out to Ceylon and China. On being introduced to Captain James Ludovic Grant, the latter made him senior midshipman and his coxswain, as none of the other youngsters had yet been to sea. The midshipmen were allowed a cabin, servant and every comfort, and though Captain Grant was regarded as a martinet and disciplinarian, yet he was by no means unpopular among Addison’s messmates, “supporting his mids as officers and gentlemen.” “There were five of us; two were stationed as signal midshipmen, as he was commodore; the other three in three watches, one in each. I was in the latter; never allowed to quit the lee side of the quarter-deck, except on duty or on general occasions of reefing or furling. Two of us dined with him every day, and nothing could exceed his politeness and kindness at table.”

Captain Grant had served as midshipman in the Royal Navy in the Prince George with the Duke of Clarence, who at the time we are speaking of was now George III. Grant had reached the rank of lieutenant in the navy, and was serving aboard a frigate in the West Indies in the year 1786. The captain died and then it was decided to continue the cruise, Grant as first lieutenant, and a brother officer named Hugh Lindsay as captain. However, when at length they reached England their conduct was so badly criticised that they had to resign their commissions. Both officers therefore did the next best thing and joined the East India Company’s service, Grant being now commander of the Brunswick, whilst Lindsay had the Lady Jane Dundas, a vessel of 820 tons.

During the month of February, then, the Brunswick, having taken on board her cargo and stores, dropped down the Thames to the Lower Hope, where she received on board passengers and the remainder of her crew, who received their usual advance. Colonel Hatton and staff of the King’s 66th Regiment came on board, together with about 350 privates: and a little later the ship sailed to Portsmouth. Here she remained till the 20th of March, when she came out of harbour and ran across to the Motherbank, where she anchored. Here the whole fleet of East Indiamen, together with their naval convoy, were assembled. This consisted of nine ships—his Majesty’s frigate Lapwing, and the Company’s ships Brunswick, Marquis of Ely, Addison’s former ship the Marquis of Wellesley, the Lady Jane Dundas (Captain Hon. Hugh Lindsay, Grant’s old shipmate), the Marchioness of Exeter, the Lord Nelson, the Princess Charlotte and the Canton. The captain of the Marquis Wellesley was now Charles Le Blanc, who had been “chief” when Addison first went to sea.

It must have been a magnificent sight to have witnessed this fine fleet getting under way and setting their canvas that afternoon at a signal from the frigate. Under close-reefed topsails they ran down the Solent and past the Needles with a fresh breeze from north by east. Four and a half hours after leaving the Motherbank they had dropped their pilot in the English Channel, and by eleven that night they were nine miles off the Portland lights, with a gale working up and thick, hazy weather. This caused the fleet to be scattered and topsails were taken in, but towards morning the weather moderated. Getting into the north-east trade-wind the Brunswick soon reeled off the miles, though the units of the fleet were still much dispersed, thus making it much easier for the enemy to inflict injury if met with.

On the 7th of April Addison has this entry in his journal:—

“Trimmed ship by the head with 200 pigs of lead. The missing ships rejoined the convoy with two whalers. On a Saturday (weather permitting) constantly exercised great guns, and small arms frequently, with powder blank cartridges. My station at quarters was aide-de-camp to the captain.”

And then there are several instances of the way discipline was maintained on board in those days of flogging:—

“9th. John McDonald, seaman, was punished with a dozen for insolence to the boatswain....

“12th. Punished T. Botler, seaman, with a dozen for neglect, etc.”