Every Man Will Do His Duty (38 page)

As time passed on, I invited my brother officers to come and dine with me. The tray which I depended on so much had not yet been used, but now was the time for displaying it. We were all seated in my cabin waiting the
appearance of dinner, when my steward announced that the passage leading into it was so narrow that the tray could not be brought in. Here was a disappointment! The dishes were handed in separately. The casualty did not interfere much with our dinner, which proved a very sociable one, and Sanders was so anxious to see the tray that it was produced. He was so much pleased with the construction of it that he purchased it. In a few days he became my constant companion, and would not let me rest until I wrote a letter to Lord Mulgrave in his behalf, reminding his Lordship of a promise that he had made to Lord Chatham to promote him. Hitherto I knew nothing of Sanders. At times he gave himself consequential airs, wishing it to be understood that he possessed considerable influence. He assumed importance from the circumstance of his commanding so fine a vessel. However, not having much faith in this gentleman’s assertions, I demanded explanations, which proved him to be the son of a surgeon who had for many years been attached to Lord Chatham’s household. Thereat Mr. Sanders did not rise much in my estimation. His authoritative bearing, with other freaks, were not suited to his connexions. I had supposed him, by his sayings and doings, to be a member of some high aristocratic family. He was fond of the bottle, and during our rambles he had frequently indulged in that failing. It fell to my lot to carry him home one night in a hack carriage, but he never refunded to me my expenses therefor, or even thanked me for my care of him. Therefore, instead of an agreeable companion, I found him a regular bore.

The builders, having terminated their examination of the
Childers’
timbers, declared them to be sound—a result no one expected. However, so it was, and I, her captain, lost no time in completing all that was required. I fitted a boarding netting to the brig, and had the boats, such as they were—a cutter and jolly boat—well repaired for cutting out work. The first orders I received were to take charge of a convoy for Gothenburg. When the merchants heard that the
Childers
had been appointed to perform that duty, they protested against placing their property under the care of such an inefficient vessel of war, and they remonstrated. Consequently a sloop, the
Snake,
with 32 lber. carronades, was ordered round from Sheerness to relieve me of my charge. This was no great compliment to my brig!

In a short time all the provisions were on board, a few volunteers came from the
Rendezvous,
and I was anxious to try my fate on the briny waves. I hove up one anchor to be ready to start at a moment’s notice. The admiral had arranged that the four brigs should put to sea at the same time, and we, the commanders, agreed to have a parting dinner at the inn. Here the proposal was renewed to share prize money together. Sanders made use of some
very ill-timed expressions relating to my brig, remarking that she would be taken by the smallest enemy privateer: and that, the others’ vessels being so much superior to mine, the risk was not a fair one. I retorted upon Sanders, stating that, as he had been the first to moot the question of sharing, he ought to be the last to make such out-of-the-way observations. “If I am attacked,” I said, “I shall not be so easily captured as you imagine. Therefore, to close the bargain with you, I will agree to share prize money with you for three months, or not at all. It is now for you to decide.” In conclusion no agreement was made. The party broke up, and we repaired on board our separate vessels. I had received a clerk recommended by Mrs. V., also a steward who had been employed in her establishment. When Ad. Vashon gave me my sailing instructions, he authorized me to seek shelter against stormy weather wherever I might find it convenient, and not to expose my crew to chances of sickness. I was to cruize off Gothenburg to annoy the enemy to the best of my power. Having settled everything satisfactorily, I took my leave.

On the 10th of March, by 11 o’clock in the morning, the
Childers
was under sail, favoured with a good breeze and fine weather. So soon as we were clear of the land I exercised the seamen at the guns and the sword exercise. The boats were also put into good order, with a certain number of men fixed upon ready for boarding ships at anchor. I explained to the crew my determination to be constantly ready for action, by night or by day, directing them to keep their cutlasses and pistols in fighting condition. The next day I boarded a whaler bound to Davis Straits, but nothing of consequence occurred till the 14th when we made the land, and I saw the coast of Norway, of stupendous height, for the first time. I had suited my dress for sea service in a small vessel—a round jacket, etc. When exercising the seamen at the guns and the Marines with muskets, I appeared on deck with my sabre drawn and pistols in my belt. This proceeding seemed to be approved of by all under my command, as I noticed cheerful countenances in every direction. My orders were obeyed with alacrity and apparent good will. All these indications gave me confidence, which led me to rely on their support in the event of meeting an enemy.

It was about 1 o’clock of this day that a vessel was seen from the mast head. Sail was instantly made in chace of her. The stranger closed in with the land, by which means we lost sight of her. My dinner hour was
½
past 2 P.M. By
½
past 4 we had closed this mountainous coast and again got sight of the chace. We were now in smoother water, but the stranger disappeared among the rocks. Not thinking it prudent to stand too near to this high land, I hoisted out the cutter. Volunteers offered themselves with an animated spirit that was truly gratifying. A certain number having been selected, I gave the
command of her to the master, Mr. Wilson,
²⁸
directing him to proceed inshore and bring out the vessel. He had no sooner left the brig when more volunteers came forward, anxious to assist the cutter. Not wishing to thwart their bold intentions, I had the jolly boat lowered and soon manned, the purser
²⁹
requesting to lead her. He evinced such determination that I complied with his wishes. All this time my dinner remained on the table. I had been so often interrupted during the chace that I had not finished the necessary meal. The two boats that had gone away contained 24 of my best men. They were soon out of sight, and the
Childers
lay to, waiting the result of their exertions.

More than an hour elapsed, and no boats were to be seen. I became anxious, as the day was closing: and this feeling was considerably increased when the man aloft on the look-out, shouted in a loud voice, “A large vessel coming towards us from under the land!” All our attentions were instantly directed to the object. Opposite to that part of the coast where I had hove to, the land trended to the north east. A long inlet extending to some distance was discerned, which the pilots informed me led to the port of Hitteroe. It was from thence that this stranger was approaching under topgallant sails. The two lusty pilots gave symptoms of extreme alarm, declaring that the enemy’s vessel was a very powerful one, and that I should either be taken or sunk. I desired them to keep silence and attend to my orders: but they became so refractory that I was obliged to order them below, as their sayings made a strong impression upon the seamen.
³⁰
I then called the crew to their guns and prepared for action.

As the stranger drew out from his apparently confined inclosure, he was still end on, and I could not see his rig. But the size of his bows indicated a vessel of some dimensions. Then, as he shaped his course towards the
Childers,
we saw the length of his hull: he was a large brig,
³¹
mounting nine long heavy guns upon his broadside. This was not a very agreeable visitor, and I now found myself in a most awkward position. The boats had not yet hove in sight from the NW—that is, on my right—and I was, I confess, almost at a loss how to act. If I attempted to draw further off from the land, I exposed my boats to capture. Therefore, after a few seconds of meditation, I determined to bring my opponent to action. He continued to near me, and when he was about a mile off upon my starboard bow, I fired a shot at him. At the same time up went the colours of Old England. My firing obliged him to alter his course: therefore, instead of closing nearer, he hauled off. This was
a most critical moment for me. When he changed his plan, which at first seemed to be one of attack, he hoisted the Danish ensign and kept aloof, whereby the advantage instantly turned in my favour: which had its effect on my crew. Fortunately for me, I had now time to make my arrangements.

But before I could make sail, to bring the enemy to action, my boats hove in sight, coming from a deep creek on our left, with a galliot in tow, under sail. Its crew, not being armed, had been unable to resist the attack of my boats, but had fled on shore, where they hurled down from the rocks huge stones. But fortunately no one had been injured by them. My crew were firing their muskets, and a similar fire was noticed from the prize, which circumstance led me to believe that my men were still contending with the Danes. However, the firing soon ceased, and the boats neared us rapidly. Yet notwithstanding these favourable appearances I was still in a very embarrassed position, because it lay in the power of the enemy to capture my boats and retake the galliot. Why the Dane did not make that exertion is no affair of mine. By his not doing so, my boats finally rejoined me, my opponent looking quietly on all the while. I now gave directions for the security of the prize, placing an officer in command of her. The boats were hoisted in, and I made sail to attack the Dane.

The day had just closed. I had therefore to beat to windward to reach him. He kept so close to the land that I could not get inshore of him. My broadsides were directed only as often as they could bear, I was obliged to shorten sail, and I could only aim at him as the flash of his guns indicated his position. Darkness now came on, which for a short while interrupted our fire. Many broadsides had been exchanged, but as yet the
Childers
had not received any injury of consequence. There was only a light air so close to the high land, and the water was as smooth as a millpond. Under these circumstances all the advantages lay with the enemy. He could see us as we were outside, but we could not see him. I therefore ceased cannonading till the moon enabled us to see what we were about. It was during this interval that we heard sounds very similar to the rowing of boats, and an impression naturally arose that the enemy was receiving men from the shore. Our quietness did not last long, for the Dane, profiting by his position, opened his fire in slow succession. One of his shots went clean through both sides of the
Childers
just above the line of flotation. Another shot lodged in the lower deck. It weighed 22 lbs. English, so that I was led to believe that he had long 18 lbers.—overwhelming odds against 12 lb. carronades. The moon at last, being at its full, shone forth in all imaginable splendour. Being now enabled to ascertain my exact position, I thought myself rather too near the land, upon an hostile coast. Judging it imprudent to expose my vessel to such unusual dangers, I directed the pilots to widen our distance,
and, having placed her about three miles from the shore, I again hove to, waiting the proceedings of the Dane.

The heavens were cloudless; the stars and planets were seen in all their brilliancy. The enemy set his square mainsail, and, shaping a diagonal course, gradually increasing his distance from the land, he neared us. I was on the watch for a favourable moment to tack. I now ascertained that all the captains of the guns were on board the prize, which, in a certain way, was a loss. At about 11 o’clock I thought I had obtained the object I had been endeavouring to realise. I instantly set the courses and tacked the
Childers.
When round, I had the enemy on the lee bow. I then made a short speech to my crew, telling them that I meant to lay him on board on the weather bow and that they were all to follow me. They instantly armed themselves and patiently waited for orders. My clerk attended me carrying my sword. We were favoured with one of the finest nights I ever beheld. Every object could be seen as plainly as by daylight.

We stood on towards our opponent, and for a time all my plans bore the appearance of success. But, at the critical moment of weathering the Dane, the wind headed us two or three points. He, taking advantage of that circumstance, luffed up as close as he could, and my expectations were foiled. Instead of gaining the wind I was obliged to bear up to prevent the jib booms of the two vessels coming in contact with each other, and pass along to leeward, as near as it could be done without touching the enemy, myself directing the motions of the man at the helm.

When the two jib booms were clear of each other, I ran forward to ascertain that the steersman was acting properly. Then we poured a broadside of round and grape shot into the enemy’s deck. His vessel leaning over into the wind, not one of the shot, I imagine, failed of doing mischief, and the groans of his men were distinctly heard. Then, coming aft and still directing the man at the helm, I had reached the lee side of the capstan when I was hurled down by it with such violence that I felt as if life had departed. My left arm was jammed against the edge of the lee carronade slide and my body smothered underneath the capstan. I lay in that position a few seconds till the smoke cleared away, when, my person being missed by the first lieutenant, he set to work to ascertain what had become of me. When he discovered my helpless position, with the assistance of some of the seamen he lugged me out from under the capstan, and as they were raising me from the deck my senses returned. The first words I heard were, “The captain is killed!,” repeated several times. Moving my arms and opening my eyes contradicted that assertion. My clerk had received a shot in the body which killed him outright, and I was covered with his gore. Altogether I was in a shocking plight, suffering great pain in both my legs and left arm. Having
been removed to the weather side, I was seated on one of the carronade slides. At that moment the Dane fired two stern guns, but they missed us. I now ordered the first lieutenant to tack and lay the enemy on board on the weather quarter, but whilst he was preparing to do so the gunner called out from below that the magazine was afloat and the brig sinking. This report was confirmed by the carpenter.
³²
Consequently, renewing the action was out of the question. The enemy widened his distance by keeping on the opposite tack, and all that I could do was to close with the prize to save my crew. The enemy’s last broadside killed two and wounded nine, including myself, severely
³³
When the surgeon, Mr. Allen,
³⁴
came to my relief, I desired him to dress the wounded men first of all, then return to me. In the meantime he sent me some wine and water. When we got near the galliot we hove to. The pumps were at work and the dead were committed to the deep. Meanwhile, the Dane, standing on on the same tack, closed in with the land and we soon lost sight of him. This brought on 2 o’clock of the morning. The jolly boat was lowered, to communicate with the Prize and then to examine the damages sustained by the enemy’s fire. There were eight shot between wind and water on the starboard side, seven of which penetrated the hull.