On the 14th January, 1797, the glorious battle off Cape St. Vincent had been won by as famous a band of heroes as the world ever saw; and the names and deeds of the victors, Jervis, Nelson, Troubridge, Collingwood, Calder Saumarez, and Parker, were the talk and pride of all England. This naval triumph, in which Nelson boarded one man-of-war of eighty guns, and then another of 112 guns, and captured them both at the edge of the sword,—this triumph, in which fifteen British sail of the line defeated twenty-seven sail of the Spaniards, amongst them one vessel of 130 guns, and six of 112 guns,—this triumph, in fine, which was so completely decisive, made revolutionary Europe quail, and feel it had met its greatest check in the indomitable force and spirit of England on the seas. The general public exultation was natural enough; but, alas! before a few months passed, an event was to happen which was to throw a shadow, fortunately not of long duration, yet of the darkest hue that ever fell, upon the navy of Great Britain. This was the dire and discreditable revolt, known as “the Mutiny at the Nore.”

This criminal insurrection was preceded by a less unjustifiable outbreak at Spithead, caused by the complaints of the sailors being totally and foolishly neglected by the parties in power; for the sailors did, in 1797, labour under many grievances, “which,” writes Mr. C. D. Yonge, in his able “History of the British Navy,” “though they were inflicted on them through neglect and carelessness, rather than from any deliberate injustice, were not the less intolerable on that account. Their pay had not been raised from the sum at which it had been fixed in the time of the Duke of York, afterwards James II., though the price of all the necessaries of life had greatly risen. Their pensions, too, were left at the same amount, though those to which the soldiers became entitled had augmented. What was even more irritating, as carrying with it a greater appearance of intended unfairness, was, that for the provisions served out to them a lighter weight^[18] was established than that used in ordinary traffic; while even for that light weight they were wholly at the mercy of the pursers, who at that time were commonly taken from a very inferior class of men, and who cheated and robbed the sailors without scruple and without limit. Other minor causes of complaint related to the general severity of the naval discipline; the constant refusal of leave even to men in harbour; and a variety of trifling matters, which, had they stood alone, would hardly have been thought of, but which no one could deny to be undeserved hardships, and which now served to swell the catalogue of evils which the men were resolved no longer to endure.”

In the month of February, 1797, the crews of four of the line-of-battle ships at Spithead forming the Channel Fleet, the Queen Charlotte, the flag-ship, being amongst them, addressed separate petitions to Lord Howe, their commander-in-chief. Lord Howe, being ill, referred the petitions to Admirals Lord Bridport and Sir Peter Parker, who, not inquiring closely into the matter, merely replied, that the petitions were the work of some evil-disposed persons. Consequently, the complete indifference these really peaceable and loyal addresses experienced drove the seamen to extremes. An agitation amongst them being perceived by those in authority, the Admiralty ordered the Channel Fleet to put to sea. On the 16th April Lord Bridport made the signal to prepare to weigh anchor. This led to an open mutiny, the men running up the shrouds and giving three cheers, and then proceeding to take the command of their ships from their officers. Two delegates from each ship were appointed to conduct the entire negotiation with the Admiralty; for throughout, these mutineers showed themselves bent on remonstrance only, and not rebellion. This line of conduct had its effect, for on investigation the lords of the Admiralty admitted the justice and moderation of the seamen’s demands, and on the representation of their lordships, the Government agreed to grant all that was asked. This was done, and a royal proclamation issued, pardoning all such seamen as should at once return to their duty. After some renewal of agitation caused by parliamentary delay in carrying out the measures conceded, Lord Howe brought down a free pardon under the great seal to the fleet, and the men having expressed their contrition, cheerfully returned to submission and allegiance, and in less than a month every symptom of discontent among the two great fleets at Portsmouth and Plymouth had entirely passed away.

Unfortunately, this redress of grievances was obtained by a display of force, and this led other seamen to suppose that further and less reasonable acquisitions might be had in the same way. A fresh and a terrible mutiny broke out in the fleet stationed at the Nore, differing entirely from the revolt at Spithead. In the former instance, in the very height of disobedience, the sailors never lost their reverence for discipline, nor their respect for their superior officers. The mutineers at the Nore were simply rebels, with a very commonplace traitor for their leader. This man, Richard Parker, was just one of those persons who, of humble life and of evil spirit, with a little education, are so often found to be the chiefs of popular insurrections. He was a native of Exeter, where he was born about the year 1765 or 1766. His father, Joseph Parker, was a respectable tradesman, and kept a baker’s shop at St. Sidwell’s, in the bounds of Exeter city. Young Richard Parker received a good education, and in the course of time went to sea, which he had chosen as the scene of his future career. He obtained a midshipman’s berth on board the Culloden, but was discharged from her for gross misconduct. He contrived to get similar rank on board the Leander, but he was again turned out. He subsequently acted as a mate in the Resistance frigate, but his continued bad behaviour brought him to a court-martial, and reduced him to the position of a common sailor. He quitted the navy invalided, returned home, and married Miss Ann Machardy, a young lady resident in Exeter, but of Scottish origin, being a member of a respectable family in the county of Aberdeen. Her name deserves to be preserved, for her devotion to her husband made quite a heroine of her. This marriage led Parker to remove to Scotland, where he embarked in some mercantile speculations that proved unsuccessful. The issue was, that he found himself involved in difficulties, and without the means to maintain his wife and two children. In Edinburgh, where these embarrassments fell upon him and placed him for a time in gaol, he had no friends to apply to, and in a moment of desperation he took the king’s bounty, and became again a common sailor on board a tender at Leith. When he had communicated to his wife the step he had taken, she was in the greatest distress, and resolved to set off instantly for Aberdeen, in order to procure from her brother there the means of hiring two seamen as substitutes for her husband. Though successful in raising the necessary funds, no time was allowed her to complete her project. On her return from Aberdeen, she was only in time to see the tender sail for the Nore, with her husband on board. Her grief on the occasion was bitterly aggravated by the death of one of her children. Parker’s sufferings were shown to be equally acute by his conduct when the vessel sailed. Exclaiming that he saw the body of the child floating on the waves, he leaped overboard, and was with difficulty rescued and restored to life. In this gloomy state of mind, in the beginning of May, 1797, Parker reached the Nore, or point dividing the mouths of the Thames and the Medway. Probably on account of his former experience and station as a seaman, he was drafted on board the Sandwich, which was the guard-ship, and bore the flag of Admiral Buckner, the port admiral. The mutinous spirit which afterwards broke out certainly existed on board of the Nore squadron before Parker’s arrival. Communications were kept up in secret between the various crews, and the mischief was gradually drawing to a head. But though Parker did not originate the feeling of insubordination, his ardent temper, boldness, and superior intelligence, soon became known to his comrades, and made him a prominent man among them. He, cunningly availing himself of their general discontent, and assisted, as there seems no doubt, by agents from some of the revolutionary societies at that time existing in London, hastened the open mutiny, of which he was appointed the chief. The plans being at length matured, the seamen rose simultaneously against their officers, and deprived them of their arms, as well as of all command in the ships, though behaving respectfully to them in all other respects. Each vessel was put under the government of a committee of twelve men, and to represent the whole body of seamen, every man-of-war appointed two delegates, and each gunboat one, to act for the common good. Of these delegates Richard Parker was president. This representative body drew up a list of grievances of which they demanded the removal. Parker signed these documents, and they were published over the whole kingdom, with his name, as well as presented to Port-Admiral Buckner, through whom they were sent to Government.

When these proceedings commenced, the mutineers were suffered to go on shore, and they paraded about Sheerness, where a part of the fleet lay, with music, flags (red in colour—the customary hue of insubordination), and other appendages of a triumphal procession. But, on the 22nd of May, troops were sent to Sheerness to put a stop to this indulgence. Being thus confined to their ships, the mutineers having come to no agreement with Admiral Buckner, began to take more decisive measures for extorting compliance with their demands, as well as for insuring their own safety. The vessels at Sheerness moved down to the Nore, and the combined force of the insurgents, which at its greatest height consisted of twenty-four sail, proceeded to block up the Thames, by refusing a free passage up or down to the London trade. Foreign vessels and a few small craft were suffered to go by, first receiving a passport, signed by Richard Parker, as president of the delegates. In a day or two the mutineers had an immense number of vessels under their detention. The mode in which they kept these was as follows:—The vessels of war were ranged in a line, at considerable distances from each other, and in the interspaces were placed the merchant vessels, having the broadsides of the men-at-war pointed at them. The appearance of the whole assemblage is described as having been at once stupendous and apalling. The red flag floated from the mast-head of every one of the mutineer ships—a sad and a disgraceful sight.

It may be well imagined that the alarm of the citizens of London was extreme. The Government, however, though unable at the period to quell the insurgents by force, remained firm in their demand of “unconditional submission as a necessary preliminary to any intercourse.” This, perhaps, was the very best line of conduct that could have been adopted. The seamen—and it was a palliation of their misguided behaviour—never seemed to think of assuming an offensive attitude, and were thereby left in quiet to meditate on the dangerous position in which they stood in hostility to a whole country. They grew timorous, the more so as the Government had caused all the buoys to be removed from the mouth of the Thames and the adjacent coasts, so that no vessel durst attempt to move away for fear of running aground. The mutineering vessels held together, nevertheless, till the 30th of May, when the Clyde frigate was carried off through a combination of its officers with some of the seamen, and was followed by the Fiorenzo. These vessels were fired upon, but escaped up the river. On the 4th of June, the king’s birthday, the Nore fleet showed that loyalty to their sovereign still existed, by firing a general salute. On the 5th another frigate left the fleet, and its place was supplied by a sloop and four men-of-war, which had left Admiral Duncan’s fleet at the Texel to join the mutiny. On the 6th Admiral Lord Northesk met the delegates by desire on board the Sandwich, and received from them proposals for an accommodation, to which Parker still put his name as president. The answer was a firm refusal, and this firmness seems to have fairly humbled the remaining spirit of the mutineers. From that time one vessel after another deserted the band, and put themselves under the protection of the fleet at Sheerness. On the 10th the merchantmen were allowed, by common consent, to pass up the river, and such a multitude of ships certainly never entered a port by one tide. By the 12th only seven ships had the red flag flying, and on the 16th the mutiny had terminated, every ship having been restored to the command of its officers. A party of soldiers went on board the Sandwich, and to them the officers surrendered the delegates of the ship, namely, a man named Davis and Richard Parker. The latter was confined in the black-hole of Sheerness garrison until his trial, which was preceded by the trials of some others of the mutineers. Two, who, like Parker, suffered death, were tried at the court-martial held on board the Royal William, at Portsmouth, on the 21st June.

This court-martial had before it the six mutineers belonging to the Pompée. The evidence of all the witnesses, to the number of seventeen, on the part of the prosecution, went strongly to condemn the prisoners Gutherie, Calloway, Ashley, and Johnson; and some circumstances tended to make Davis and Braham more connected with the business. In the course of the evidence called and questioned, it appeared that these disaffected men were not able to get a real seaman to sign their paper, or to take the oath tendered. Such men as took the oath did it through fear, and were the illiterate part of the crew, most of whom could not write their names or understand what they had sworn to. It is but justice to the well-affected part of the ship’s company to admit the propriety of their conduct, in exposing the proceedings of the six prisoners. The conduct of Sergeant Sweet, of the Marines, in giving his evidence, was particularly commendable. The testimony on the part of the Crown closed at four o’clock. Several papers, very essential to clear up this black and mysterious business, had been destroyed; the only thing found was amongst Johnson’s clothes, which was a form of oath, as follows:—“I, ——, do swear to stand true till death in promoting the cause of liberty with equity, while a prospect of obtaining it remains.” Here the paper was torn, which showed there was something more to follow. The trial was so numerously attended from the ship and the shore, that props were obliged to be put under the beams of the Royal William, to support the immense number of people who flocked on board.

The court-martial ended on the 23rd June, at half-past six. By the sentence of the court, Calloway, Gutherie, Johnson, and Ashley were to suffer death; but the two former were recommended to mercy. A fifth mutineer was to be imprisoned twelve months, and the sixth acquitted. This sentence was confirmed, and Johnson and Ashley were executed on the 28th June.

The trial and conviction of these men were followed by the more momentous trial of Parker. This took place at Greenhithe upon the morning of the 22nd June, 1797, at ten o’clock. A court-martial was held on board the Neptune, in pursuance of an order from the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, for the trial of Richard Parker, a seaman on board the Sandwich, upon charges of which the following is the substance:—Making, and endeavouring to make, mutinous assemblies on board the Sandwich, and others of her Majesty’s ships at the Nore, on or about the 12th of May; disobeying the lawful orders of his superior officers, and treating his superior officers with disrespect.

Captain Moss, of the Sandwich, was the prosecutor; and the court was composed of the following officers:—

Admiral Buckner was the first witness called.

Q. “Do you know the prisoner?—A. Yes.

Q. “Does the prisoner belong to the Sandwich?—A. I heard so; but in what capacity I know not.

Q. “Will you report what you know of the prisoner being concerned in a mutiny on board the fleet at the Nore, on or about the 12th of May; or of any instances of disrespectful language or conduct to his officers during the time this mutiny existed?—A. The first time I observed anything particular in the prisoner’s conduct, farther than parading about with a vast number of people on shore with a red flag, was on or about the 20th of May, when I went on board the Sandwich for the purpose of making known to that ship and others his Majesty’s proclamation of pardon on their returning to their duty, on the terms granted to their brethren at Spithead, which the delegates, among whom was Parker, had previously assured me they would be satisfied with. On my going on board with my flag in my boat there was no respect shown me whatever. The officers were then without their side-arms, and had no command in the ship. Unwilling to return on shore till an opportunity offered for my speaking to the people, I waited for a considerable time, when Parker, with others, came on the quarterdeck, and said that none other but themselves (meaning, I presume, the ship’s company), should be present. The prisoner then tendered me a paper containing what he called a list of grievances, saying, at the same time, that until those were redressed, they would not give up the power then in their hands. They insisted, also, on the personal attendance of the Admiralty to ratify their demands. Finding my efforts to restore order of no avail, I went on shore. On the 22nd certain troops arrived at Sheerness; on the 23rd my flag was struck on board the Sandwich. On the evening of that day I was examining at the Commissioner’s house; and while I was inquiring into complaints laid against two marines by a part of the military, the prisoner and a man whom they called Davies, with three or four others, I believe, came abruptly into the house, and demanded why those men were in custody; telling me, at the same time, that my flag was struck, that I had no authority, and that the power was in their hands. They then took the men away, as they said, to trial. Another expression made use of by Parker was that he was not to be intimidated. About the 4th of June I received a letter from Parker, or rather, I should say, with his signature. In this letter he said that the Administration had acted improperly in stopping the provisions, and that the foolish proclamation was calculated to inflame the minds of honest men. I have nothing more particular to relate.

Q. “You have had frequent conferences with the prisoner?—A. With him at the head of many others, in order to bring them to a sense of their conduct. He, in general, took the lead as the spokesman, sometimes with a degree of insolence, appealing to the rest whether he was not authorized to speak the sense of the whole, and if it was their wish it should be so. He even prevented one man in particular, whose name I don’t know, from answering a question I had put to him; saying, at the same time, ‘Hold your tongue; if you don’t, I’ll take care of you.’ While I was on board the Sandwich, I forgot to mention that I remonstrated with them against keeping those disgraceful ropes, called yard-ropes, hanging; but the delegates, amongst whom was the prisoner, refused to remove them.

Q. “In your conversation with the prisoner, did you ever experience any degree of insolence?—A. I sometimes did; but generally his deportment was the reverse, and he behaved with a great deal of apparent respect.” (Here were read Admiral Buckner’s letter to the Admiralty informing the Lords Commissioners of the mutiny; a letter from Captain Moss to Admiral Buckner, informing him of certain particulars respecting the mutiny; Richard Parker’s letter to Admiral Buckner, the substance of which was stated in the Admiral’s evidence.)

The prisoner put some questions to show that the Admiral had been treated with respect. The President of the Court advised the prisoner to invalidate, if he could, by any question, that part of the narrative of Admiral Buckner which stated that he had released two marines, and told the Admiral that all his authority on board ship was at an end. The prisoner put no question to this effect. The other witnesses this day examined were—Lieut. Justice, of the Sandwich, and Mr. Snipe, Surgeon of the Sandwich, who stated that Parker acted as President of the Committee, and leading man on all occasions. The prisoner was about to ask some questions; but, being cautioned by the Court that they might criminate himself, they were withdrawn. Captain Surridge, of the Iris, who was present at what passed at Commissioner Hartwell’s, and Captain Dixon, of L’Espion, who accompanied Admiral Buckner on board the Sandwich, confirmed the Admiral’s evidence. At four o’clock Captain Dixon’s evidence was interrupted, and the Court adjourned to the next day.

June 23.—The witnesses examined were—Captain John Wood, of the Hound; Nicholas Plat, third lieutenant of the Sandwich; William Levingstone, boatswain of the Director; Samuel Hallard, carpenter of the Director; Thomas Barry, seaman of the Monmouth; and John Summerland, seaman of the Monmouth, and others, most of whom were severally cross-examined by the prisoner. The evidence for the Crown being closed, the President asked when the prisoner would be ready for his defence, who said that he thought that he could not be ready before Monday.

June 26.—The judge-advocate informed the prisoner, that in consequence of his application for certain witnesses necessary to his defence, those witnesses had been sent for to Sheerness, and were then present. The court then informed him that he might proceed with his defence, and asked him whether he chose to read it himself, or to let the judge-advocate read it. He replied he would read it himself; and then addressed the court in the following terms:—

“As I have been brought up from my youth to the sea, to the knowledge of some persons now present, nothing can be expected from me but a plain statement of facts; and it is impossible for me to dress up my defence in such pompous terms as I might do if I had the assistance of a lawyer. In the first place, I beg to return my thanks to the court for having indulged me with sufficient time to prepare my defence against the heavy charges which are brought against me. Nothing but the consciousness of the integrity of my intentions, and that I entered into this business with the hope of checking the progress of that bad spirit which I saw prevail among the fleet, could support me in the situation in which I now stand. Vice-Admiral Buckner has deposed, that he has often held conversation with me and the persons who were called delegates, and that my behaviour to him was sometimes respectful and sometimes otherwise. I never waited upon the admiral but by the order of the delegates, and pursuant to the instructions which I received from them. I never sported with the feelings of the admiral, but couched the representations I had to make in as respectful terms as I possibly could. It may be asked how I came to be the person fixed upon on these occasions? I was chosen by the delegates, for that purpose, and I could not resist their commands. I declare solemnly that I knew nothing of the mutiny till it had broke out in the fleet. In about two days afterwards I perceived that a bad spirit was prevalent among the men, and I then entered into it for the purpose of checking, as well as I could, the violence of their proceedings, and I am satisfied that, if I had not taken an active part in the business, though it has terminated so unfortunately, it would have terminated with consequences still more dreadful; and, conscious of the purity of my intentions, I can wait the decision of this honourable court with calmness. Vice-Admiral Buckner says that, on the 20th of May, when he went on board the Sandwich, he was not received with the proper respect due to his rank; but I am sure the admiral does not attribute that want of respect to me; for he states, in his evidence, that I did not go on board till after him; and upon this part of the charge I have no doubt of being able to satisfy the court of my innocence, because he states that as soon as I came on board I apologised to him for the disrespect which had been shown him, and told him that if he would accept of it, there should be three cheers, and the yards manned. The admiral acknowledges this. There was a stir made towards cheering him, and this was done at the risk of my life. Some evil-disposed persons in the fleet had infused an idea into the minds of the men that the admiral was not competent to decide upon their grievances, and also the people on board the Inflexible had sent us word that if we offered to cheer the admiral, they would come alongside the Sandwich and sink her. On the same day Captain Moss sent Mr. Bray, the master of the Sandwich, to know the reason why the Inflexible had beat to quarters? When the persons sent got on board the Inflexible, they found the tompions taken out of the guns, and the matches lighted ready for action. There were meetings of the committee on board the Inflexible, to overawe the general meeting of the delegates, and these meetings were held daily on board that ship; and notwithstanding the stigma which has been thrown upon the Sandwich, the whole of the measures that were adopted originated on board the Inflexible. After a consultation among the ship’s companies, I was directed to present the paper, containing the list of grievances, to Admiral Buckner, and everything I did was by their orders. After the paper had been presented to the admiral, he proceeded to Sheerness. I saw that Admiral Buckner’s flag was struck, but I did not know the reason of it; and it was with the utmost concern that I saw the red flag flying in its place. There were many signals given that day by the Inflexible which I did not understand. With respect to what the admiral has said of my taking away two marines, I must state to the court that it is true. I was that day on shore, at the commissioner’s house, and went there by order of the persons calling themselves delegates. While they were refreshing themselves on shore with the usual allowance of a pint of beer each man, information was brought them that two marines had been taken up, and were then in confinement, for approving the proceedings of the sailors. They ordered me and some others to go to the guard-house, and inquire into the reason of their being in custody. When we got to the guard-house we were informed by the sentinel that he had no such persons in his custody. We then heard that the marines were at the commissioner’s house. We were then ordered by the delegates to go there, and bring them on board. We informed the admiral of the commands we had received; and he told us the marines had been taken up for having used improper language in the neighbourhood of Queenborough. I was desired by those who accompanied me to examine them. I did examine one of them; the other was very much intoxicated. While I was examining him the admiral said, “Now, Parker, you are at the right point—your questions are very proper.” When the examination was finished, they were sent on board the Sandwich, and put into confinement, and the next day they were sent to their respective ships, and I knew no more about them. I submit it to the judgment of the court whether it is probable that four men, unarmed, could forcibly take these men away in the face of a garrison? But throughout the whole of the business I treated Admiral Buckner with as much respect as the nature of the transaction in which I was employed would admit. I must here state that there was a conversation improperly represented. The admiral said to me, “Parker, consider my feelings.” I replied to him, “Sir, it gives me great pain to see the red flag flying in place of yours. I had nothing to do with it,—I have my feelings as well as another man; but I am but an individual.” Throughout the whole of this business I wish to acknowledge that Admiral Buckner and Commissioner Hartwell were indefatigable in their endeavours to satisfy the minds of the sailors.

“Lieutenant Justice, of the Sandwich, was the second witness that was called. He knew nothing personal about me. Captain O’Bryen, of the Nassau, knew nothing about me. Captain Fancourt, of the Agamemnon, knew nothing personal about me. Captain Cobb, of the Lion, knew nothing of me. Captain Parr of the Standard, knew nothing personal of me. Captain Watson, of the Isis, and Captain Hargood, of the Leopold, knew nothing personal concerning me; and therefore, I have no observations to make upon their evidence. The next witness called was Mr. Snipe, surgeon of the Sandwich: He deposed, that on the 14th of May he was ordered to attend on deck, to be present at the punishment of a man of the name of Campbell, and that I ordered him to receive a dozen lashes. I was then upon the gangway, and had been sent there by the delegates to see the punishment executed. Mr. Bray, the master, who had then the command of the ship, was consulted about the punishment. The man had been convicted of getting beastly drunk, though he had said he had drunk nothing but small beer. I was then desired to caution the ship’s company not to get drunk till the business was settled; for if they did, they would undergo the same punishment as this man, which was what they had all agreed to inflict. With respect to his evidence about the sick man in irons, he was confined for disrespect to Captain Moss; and the answer which he states was given by me to him shows that he did not wish to interfere in the medical department. He says, also, that he was desired by me to use his influence with Admiral Buckner, that the whole sick of the fleet should be permitted to go on shore. This shows that we had a great regard for the sufferings of our fellow-creatures. Doctor Snipe further says, that when he went on shore he promised to return, but that he took good care not to do it till the ship was again under the command of Captain Moss. I wish here to ask whether it was praiseworthy and humane in the surgeon to leave the ship, when there were so many people dangerously sick on board, merely because his situation on board was not so comfortable as he could have wished? Captain Surridge, of the Iris, says he saw me with the delegates at the Commissioner’s house, in conversation with the admiral, and that I delivered the articles from the North Sea fleet. I declare, in the most solemn manner, that I had no conversation upon that occasion, but desired the Commissioner to examine the delegates of that fleet, in order to find out what would satisfy the minds of the men in that fleet. He says he saw no disrespect in my behaviour to the admiral. Captain Dickson of the Espion’s evidence is answered by the observations I made upon the evidence given by the Admiral. Captain Wood, of the Hound, says that I told him not to be so violent with the delegates. I went on board the ship to secure his safety, for he had threatened to put the delegates to death. I desired the ship’s companies to be attentive to their officers, and not to make any slight or unfounded complaints of grievances. He says he was ordered out of his ship, and that the person who communicated the orders to him said it was by my direction. I declare solemnly, that I could safely assert, if I was going into the presence of God to-night, that I gave no such order; and that I did not know he was turned out of his ship, till I heard it stated in evidence in court. With respect to what he says of my having threatened to make beef-steak of the pilot at the yard-arm, for having put us into a foul berth, I deny having used any such expression, or that I ordered the anchor to be let go. With respect to the yard ropes, they were rove before I got on board; but in the confusion that necessarily prevailed, it was very easy for the captain to have mistaken the time of these circumstances happening, and the identical person who ordered them. Lieutenant Flat, of the Sandwich, said he did not know me before the disturbance broke out on board that ship; but, as I shall have occasion to ask that gentleman some more questions, I shall make no observations upon his evidence at present. William Levingstone, the boatswain of the Director, says: I was on board the Director when she fired on the Repulse while she was on shore; that I asked for a boat, with a flag of truce, to go on board that ship, in the hopes of being able to save innocent blood, and that I valued not my life. He says, also, that he heard me give the orders to fire, and that after it had commenced he did not see me. Samuel Hallard, the carpenter of the Director, says he saw me on board that ship, and heard me ask for the boat, to prevent, if I could, innocent blood from being spilt; that he heard the guns fired, but did not hear me give orders for it. The evidence of both these witnesses applies to the same time and the same facts; therefore my answer applies equally to both. In the first place it is necessary for me to account for my being on board the Director at that time: there was a request for our band of music to sail round the different ships, and play three tunes—viz., “God save the King,” “Rule Brittania,” and “Britons strike Home”—and also that we should show the journal of our proceedings. I was directed by the delegates to comply with these requests. While I was in the boat I was told that the Repulse was getting under weigh, and was advised to go on board the Sandwich. When I got on board I was told that the Director was getting a spring upon her cable, in order to bring her broadside to bear upon the Repulse. I was then ordered by the delegates to go on board the Director; I went, and found the guns upon the quarterdeck loosed. I then desired permission to address the ship’s company, and pointed out to them the impropriety and cruelty of one brother firing upon another, and asked for a boat and a flag of truce to endeavour to prevent the consequences of such a measure. Finding myself refused, I determined to find out to what extremities they were inclined to go, and therefore I asked them if they would slip their cables and run alongside the Repulse; I was extremely happy to find they would not do it, for I proposed it merely to sound their intentions. I will now state to the court my reason for asking for a flag of truce. As the wind was favourable and the tide was rising I expected every minute to see the Repulse get afloat, and make for Sheerness harbour. I wished, if possible, to get into her wake with the flag of truce to prevent her being fired at; for I hoped the other ships would respect the flag of truce, and not fire upon the Repulse for fear of hurting her. I failed in my endeavours, and was obliged to give way to the storm, and to sanction measures which I abominated; and the orders I gave on that occasion were extorted from me by compulsion. I remained in the Director till she ceased firing, in hopes of catching a favourable moment for softening matters; it is clear, therefore, that Burry must have mistaken some other person who might be at the gun with him, and might have used such language, for I will prove that I was on the Director till the afternoon. Burry says that he saw me on board the Monmouth that day, and that I assisted in pointing and fitting the gun at which he was six or seven times; and that I was not content with firing a nine-pound shot, but that I put in a crowbar. He speaks of being confined in different parts of the ship by a man called Captain Vance; and that I shook my fist when the Repulse was afloat, and said, “D—n me, she is afloat;” and that I would send one of the outside ships after the Leopard and send her to hell. On asking him if he had received any bribe or promise for giving this hellish account, he said he had not. I went back to the Sandwich in the Ardent’s boat. John Summerland does not recollect seeing me at any gun, or actively employed with my clothes off; but he says that I said I would get an outside ship and send her after the Leopard. In this particular both the witnesses agree; but I will call witnesses to prove to the court that I was not on board the Monmouth while she was firing at the Repulse; and under the general confusion that must have prevailed at such a moment, it cannot be supposed that I had either leisure or inclination to go looking for such Don Quixote-like adventures. I saw the Monmouth very active in firing upon the Repulse, and took the same measures with that ship that I had done with the Director. If I said I would take an outside ship and send her after the Leopard, it was with a view of preventing the Monmouth from quitting her station to attack the Repulse, for I immediately went on board the Sandwich. Before the Sandwich was delivered up to her officers, the Montague made a signal for the delegates to assemble on board her; I did not go on board; their proceedings were extremely violent. Having now closed the remarks I had to make upon the evidence that has been given against me, I have only a few words to address to the court, not to remind them that where mercy can be shown it ought to be granted; but, assured from the candid manner in which the court has proceeded that justice will be done, I have only to ask that the evidence given by G. Burry may be examined in the strictest manner. I ask this for the purpose of clearing up my character, which is far dearer to me than a thousand lives; and though it has been misrepresented in the public prints, I hope the innocence of my intentions will appear. My country allows me justice; and justice I am sure I shall have from this honourable court.”

The prisoner then proceeded to examine his own witnesses, who were—the Right Hon. Lord Northesk, captain of the Monmouth; Captain John Knight, of the Montague; Mr. J. Swanson, gunner; Matthew Hollister, seaman of the Director; Thomas Burry, William Nobbs, and George Nicholls, seamen of the Monmouth; Samuel Beer, of the Monmouth; Matthew Hollister. Their evidence was but immaterial.

The evidence being closed, the President desired to know if there were any other witnesses, as the court would willingly continue its sittings to a late hour in order to get their testimony. The prisoner answered that he had no more evidence to examine. He hoped the circumstance of his giving up the command of the ship, and the other parts of his conduct, would receive the most favourable construction. At half-past one the court was cleared, and, at ten minutes before four, the prisoner being called in, the Deputy Judge-Advocate read the sentence of the court. After the commission under which the court sat had been read, it stated that it had proceeded to try Richard Parker on the charge of mutiny, disobedience of orders, and insolence to his officers; and that the said Richard Parker had been heard in his defence. The court did adjudge, that the whole of the said charge was fully proved, and that the said Richard Parker was guilty of the said crimes which it enumerated—crimes as unprecedented in their nature as wicked and destructive in their consequences. The court did, therefore, adjudge him, the said Richard Parker, to be hanged by the neck till he was dead; and the said Richard Parker was ordered to suffer death accordingly.

Prisoner: “I shall submit to your sentence with all due respect, being confident of the innocence of my intentions, and that God will receive me into favour; and I sincerely hope that my death will be the means of restoring tranquillity to the navy, and that those men who have been implicated in the business may be reinstated in their former situations, and again be serviceable to their country.”

President: “The court, in consideration of the repentance which is necessary to expiate your heinous offences, is willing to grant you some time for that purpose, and has not, therefore, ordered the sentence to be put into immediate execution, but leaves it to the Admiralty to appoint when and where you are to suffer.”

The prisoner bowed, and withdrew.

The behaviour of the unhappy man throughout the whole of his trial was firm and manly, and, while he was before the court, decent and respectful. During the trial the solicitor of the Admiralty received two letters for Parker, in one of which, from his brother, was enclosed a five-pound bank-note. They were delivered to him immediately in court.

The execution of Parker took place on the 30th June, 1797. On that day, at eight in the morning, a gun was fired from his Majesty’s ship L’Espion, lying off Sheerness garrison, Vice-Admiral Lutwidge’s flag-ship; and the yellow flag, the signal of capital punishment, was hoisted, which was immediately repeated by the Sandwich hoisting the same colour on her fore-top. The Sandwich was stationed rather above Blackstakes, the headmost ship of the fleet. The garrison was immediately under arms on the gun firing, and proceeded in single files along the south shore of the Medway, near to Queenborough, to be present at the execution. All the gates were then shut, and each ship sent a boat off, with a lieutenant and a party of marines, to attend the Sandwich; and the crews of all were piped to the forecastle, and the marines drawn up on the quarterdeck, to be witnesses of the execution. The prisoner was awakened a little after six o’clock from a sound sleep by the marshal-provost, who, with a file of marines, composed his guard. He arose with cheerfulness, and requested permission might be asked for a barber to attend him, which was granted him. He soon dressed himself in a neat suit of mourning (waistcoat excepted) wearing his half-boots over a pair of black silk stockings. He then took his breakfast, talked of a will he had written—in which he bequeathed to his wife a little estate he said he was heir to—and after that lamented the misfortunes that had been brought on the country by the mutiny, but solemnly denied having the least connection or correspondence with any disaffected persons on shore; and declared that it was chiefly owing to him that the ships were not carried into the enemy’s ports. On his coming on deck he looked a little paler than common, but soon recovered his usual complexion. The chaplain told him that he had selected two appropriate psalms; to which the prisoner desired to add the 51st, and then recited each alternate verse in a manner peculiarly impressive. He heard the preparatory gun fired, at nine, without the smallest emotion; and prayers being ended, he rose, and asked Captain Moss if he might be indulged with a glass of white wine, which being immediately granted, he took it, and lifting up his eyes, exclaimed, “I drink first to the salvation of my soul! and next to the forgiveness of all my enemies!” Addressing himself to Captain Moss, he said “he hoped he would shake hands with him,” which the captain did. He then desired “that he might be remembered to his companions on board the Neptune, with his last breath entreating them to prepare for their destiny, and to refrain from unbecoming levity.” His arms being now bound, the procession moved to a platform erected on the cat-head, with an elevated projection. There Parker knelt with the chaplain, and joined in some devout ejaculations, to all which he repeated loudly, “Amen.” He now asked the captain “whether he might be allowed to speak,” and immediately, apprehending his intention might be misconceived, he added, “I am not going, sir, to address the ship’s company; I wish only to declare that I acknowledge the justice of the sentence under which I suffer, and I hope my death may be deemed a sufficient atonement, and may save the lives of others.” He now requested a minute to collect himself, and knelt down alone for that space of time; then rising up, said, “I am ready,” and, holding his head up with considerable dignity, said to the boatswain’s mate, “take off my handkerchief” (of black silk); which being done, the provost-marshal placed the halter over his head (which had been prepared with grease), but, doing it awkwardly, the prisoner said rather pettishly to the boatswain’s mate, “Do you do it, for he seems to know nothing about it.” The halter was then spliced to the reeved rope. All this being adjusted, the provost attempted to put a cap on, which he refused; but on being told it was indispensable, he submitted, requesting that it might not be pulled over his eyes till he desired it. He then turned round for the first time, gave a steady look at his shipmates on the forecastle, and, with an affectionate smile, nodded his head, and said, “Good bye to you.” He now said, “Captain Moss, is the gun primed?” “It is.” “Is the match alight?” “All is ready.” On this he advanced a little and said, “Will any gentleman be so good as to lend me a white handkerchief for a signal?” After some little pause, a gentleman stepped forward and gave him one; to whom, bowing, he returned his thanks. He now ascended the platform, repeated the same question about the gun, evidently to gain the time he wished, for the perfect completion of what he had preconcerted in his own mind; then, the cap being drawn over his face, walking by firm degrees up to the extremity of the scaffold, he dropped the handkerchief, put his hands in his coat-pockets with great rapidity, and at the moment he was springing off, the fatal bow gun fired, and the reeve rope catching him ran him up, though not with great velocity, to the yard-arm. When suspended about midway, his body appeared extremely convulsed for a few seconds, immediately after which no appearance of life remained. The instant he was visible to the garrison from the yard-arm, the telegraph was put in motion to announce it to the Admiralty, and from the clearness of the atmosphere and quickness of working, the advice must have been received in seven minutes. He suffered exactly at half-past nine, and was lowered down after hanging at the yard-arm a full hour; when the yellow flag was struck, and his body instantly put into a shell that had been prepared for it, with all his clothes on; and soon after it was taken in one of the Sandwich’s boats, and rowed to the east point of the garrison, and there being landed was carried to the new naval burying-ground at Sheerness, out of the Red Barrier Gate, leading to Minster; the coffin-lid was here taken off in the presence of the spectators for a few minutes. His countenance appeared not much altered, but his eyes were wide open. He was interred exactly at noon. The whole conduct of this awful ceremony was extremely impressive. It was evident, from the countenance of the crew of the Sandwich, that the general feeling for the fate of their mutinous conductor was such as might be wished; not a word, and scarcely a whisper, was heard.

Parker’s body was not allowed to rest in the naval burying-ground, in consequence of an affecting incident. His wife, it seems, was in Scotland when the Nore mutiny broke out, and on hearing that her husband was the ringleader, she hastened to London to endeavour to dissuade him from pursuing his guilty career. She arrived too late; Parker was tried and condemned; and she only reached Sheerness in time to witness his execution from a boat which approached the Sandwich as near as it was permitted. She saw her husband appear on deck between two clergymen. She called on him, and he heard her voice, for he exclaimed, “There is my dear wife from Scotland.” Immediately afterwards she fell back in a state of insensibility, and did not recover till some time after she was taken ashore. She was excited almost to madness by the information that the surgeons would probably disinter the body that night. She therefore resolved on the following plan:—She hung about the churchyard till dusk, and then she contrived with some friends to scale the churchyard wall, and went to her husband’s grave. She there had the coffin dug up, and the lid removed, and after clasping the cold hand of Parker, she got several men to undertake the task of lifting the body. This was accomplished successfully, and at three o’clock in the morning, the shell containing the corpse was placed in a van and taken to Rochester, where, for the sum of six guineas, Mrs. Parker procured another waggon to carry it to London. On the road they met hundreds of persons all inquiring about and talking of the fate of “Admiral Parker,” as the common people called him. At eleven P.M. the van reached London; here the widow stopped at the Hoop and Horse Shoe, on Tower hill, which was full of people. A great crowd by-and-by assembled about the house, anxious to see the body of Parker. The Lord Mayor heard of the affair, and came and asked the widow what she intended to do with her husband’s remains. She replied, “To inter them decently at Exeter or in Scotland.” The Lord Mayor said the body would not be taken from her, but prevailed upon her to have it decently buried in London. Arrangements were made with this view, and finally the corpse of Parker was inhumed in Whitechapel churchyard, although not until it had to be removed to Aldgate workhouse, on account of the crowds attracted by it, which caused some fears lest “Admiral” Parker’s remains should create a public commotion.

The Gentleman’s Magazine for 1797 thus records this singular affair:—

“The body of Parker, the mutineer, which was taken out of the new naval burying-ground at Sheerness, was brought to the Hoop and Horse Shoe public-house, Queen-street, Little Tower-hill, on Saturday evening. So large a concourse of persons assembled before the house next day, that a party of constables were stationed there, in order to keep the mob from breaking into the house; and the corpse was removed in the afternoon to the workhouse, in Nightingale-lane, by order of the parish officers. Mrs. Parker was taken before the sitting magistrates in Lambert-street, and examined touching the object of her taking up the body. Her answer was, ‘For the purpose of a more decent interment.’ It was buried this morning early in the vaults of Whitechapel church.”

Mrs. Parker long survived her husband, and latterly fell into distress; and among other relief received by her was at one time £10, and at another £20, from King William IV.

In the year 1797 lay in his death-illness the master spirit of that political period, the Right Hon. Edmund Burke, who, heart-broken at the loss of his only son, took no further interest in the concerns of private life, but devoted his whole mind to the state of public affairs. Amid the startling and depressing news of Napoleon’s triumphant campaign in Italy, the victory of St. Vincent somewhat revived Burke’s spirits, but then these naval mutinies came to sadden him again—to sadden but not to subdue him. The ministry of the day sought counsel and courage from the dying man’s energy. One of the conferences of Government with him is thus referred to in an able biography of Wilberforce:—“During the awful crisis of the mutiny, he (Wilberforce) saw the last gleams of (take him for all in all) the greatest luminary of the eighteenth century.” Wilberforce, in his own diary, says:—“Monday, April 17.—Heard of Portsmouth mutiny; consultation with Burke ... The whole scene is now before me. Burke was lying on a sofa much emaciated, and Windham, Laurence, and some other friends were around him. The attention shown to Burke by that party was just like the treatment of Ahithopel of old; it was as if one went to inquire of the oracle of the Lord.”

In one of his last letters, dated May 12, 1797, Burke thus refers to the mutiny at the Nore:—“The times are so deplorable that I do not know how to write about them. Indeed, I can hardly bear to think of them. In the selection of these mischiefs ... are those of the navy and those of Ireland.... As to the first, ... I trust in God that these mutineers may not, as yet, have imbrued their hands deeply in blood. If they have, we must expect the worst that can happen.”

Burke’s spirit revolted at what he thought he perceived—viz., that the mutiny at home and the French abroad were making the British Government lose courage. A short time before his decease he used these remarkable words: “Never succumb to these difficulties. It is a struggle for your existence as a nation, and if you must die, die with the sword in your hand. But I have no fears whatever for the result. There is a salient living principle of energy in the public mind of England which only requires proper direction to enable her to withstand this or any other impending danger.” Burke spoke with the foresight of a prophet; the mutiny subsided even before he breathed his last, and, not long after, naval successes restored public confidence. Justice was satisfied by the execution of Parker and a few other executions, and by some minor punishments. The British navy soon showed that it possessed its “living principle of energy.” The sailors speedily redeemed themselves, and wiped away the recent stigma with victory upon victory. The battle of Camperdown was won in the October of this same 1797. King George III., on the 30th of that October, visited the fleet, and the victor of Camperdown, Admiral Lord Duncan, at the Nore, and the royal clemency was extended generally to such mutineers as still remained under sentence. The following year the Nile was won. These triumphs were “happy prologues to the swelling act of the imperial theme”—Trafalgar. Yet while, through the halo of these glories, we look, less angrily, back to the sad insubordination that preceded them, we may offer up a fervent prayer that, for the honour and vitality of our navy, no such outbreak may ever occur again as the mutiny at the Nore.