Every Man Will Do His Duty (7 page)

We had not long been quiet, when we received orders from the quarterdeck for all hands to lie down, as an enemy three decker was coming to rake us. This ship closed gradually upon us with only her foremast standing, the sail of which enabled him to make way at a very slow pace. This was, to me, the most awful part of the battle. We could not defend ourselves from the stern, and here was an immense overpowering ship of
upwards of 100 guns going to pour in her broadside into the weakest and most exposed part of our ship. It was a moment of extreme anxiety, as there was a chance of our being sunk. As he neared us there was an appearance of intending to board, and the boarders were called to repulse the attempt. But when he altered his course to rake, we were again ordered to lie down. We waited the coming event with a silent suspense not easily described. At length the enemy in passing across our stern, to our astonishment, only fired a few random shot, which brought down our disabled foremast. We were now completely dismasted and quite unmanageable. The three decker, ranging up on our larboard side, gave us an opportunity of sending some well directed shot into him. In watching the motions of this ship, I noticed that the Frenchmen, in many instances, loaded their guns from the outside. One man I distinctly saw riding upon a lower deck gun, loading it. He was stripped from the waist upwards, and had we been sufficiently near, our marines could have picked him off with their muskets. This three decker soon got out of range, leaving us free of further molestation.

It was past 12 o’clock, and I concluded the fighting part of our duty to be at an end. My clothes were still damp: my shoes, to which I had small buckles, were covered with blood; my face and hands smutched with powder and blood. At my quarters I had 14 men killed and wounded (if I included myself I should say 15); and a gun. I now ascertained that no part of the lower deck had suffered so much as mine. On my way aft I shook hands with other mids who had escaped. Of these I shall never forget Ritchie. He was in his shirt upwards, with a bandage round his head. These were all bloody, and I thought he had been hurt. On my inquiring of him if it were the case, he gave me a hearty shake by the hand, telling me he was strong and hearty, and ready to continue the action when required. The bloody spots on his linen were occasioned by his having assisted some wounded men below. He gave the strongest symptoms of a bold and daring spirit, and had it not been for the bloody marks upon him, one might have supposed he had been at a merry and jovial party instead of a destructive battle. The next person I came in contact with was one of my messmates, Consitt. He also had taken off his coat and waistcoat, and his linen too was all bloody, which led me to suppose that he had been injured. However, upon enquiry, I found that he was safe and sound. In a few words he gave me an interesting account of what had been going on upon the quarter deck, as he was one of the Captain’s aides-de-camp. He had been sent down to the lower deck to ascertain its state and condition. Among the informations received from him, he stated that the
Royal Sovereign,
one of our three deckers, had fired into us and wounded some of our men. Upon further inquiry his assertion turned out to be true.

I now hastened up to the quarter deck. In attempting to do so I was prevented by the splinter netting which, from its lying across the quarter deck under the mainmast, had turned the place into a sort of cage. There was no getting on it until the netting had been cut away. Whilst on the ladder, Mr. Hawtayne, the clergyman, came to me. From my appearance he thought that I had been seriously injured, but I soon set his mind at rest on that subject. Leaving him, I at length reached the poop, where I met my Captain. He noticed me very kindly, and in replying to his questions I related to him what had happened at my quarters. Whilst in conversation with him, the second lieutenant, Mr. Dickson,
¹⁷
began firing some of the starboard main deck guns. He was drunk. By this rash act he set the ship on fire, as the foretopsail was lying over the side. But in due time the fire was extinguished, and our alarms at an end.

The cannonade of the hostile fleets had lulled the wind, but the swell of the sea was still paramount, and our ship, without sails or masts to balance her motion, laboured in a most annoying manner. The first object that attracted my notice on the quarter deck was the immense quantity of the enemy’s musket shot lying there. On the starboard side, which had at the commencement of the action been the lee one, they were at least three or four tier deep, and the rest of the deck completely covered with them.
¹⁸
How could it be possible, thought I, for anyone to escape being hit where so many thousand instruments of death had fallen? But so it was; and the Captain, with many of those around him, came off without injury. The only officers of the ship that were killed were the master, Webster, and the boatswain, Mr. Fitzpatrick. Lieut. Boycott of the 2nd Regiment, Queen’s, was severely wounded. He was a remarkably fine young man. The effect of his wounds obliged him to quit the ship upon our arrival at Spithead, to the regret of all who knew him. Looking around me, I saw the
Queen,
98, some distance to leeward of us, still engaged with the enemy’s ships which had formed a line on the starboard tack. That ship had lost her main mast, but it soon became evident that she would rejoin us, and there was no apprehension on her account. But the
Brunswick,
74, was to leeward of the French, and we were uneasy about her fate.
¹⁹
She had lost her mizen mast. By one o’clock all firing was at an end.

The next thing to be done was to attend to the disabled ships. We made the signal for assistance from the stump of our mizen mast. In clearing away the lumber on the poop, a marine was found stowed away under the
hen coops. Those who lugged him out thought him dead. However, he soon came to life. This was the Fugleman
²⁰
of that Corps, one of the finest limbed men I ever beheld, and the most perfect in his exercise. All hands laughed at him when they saw he had not been hurt. He was, also, like my friend West, a foreigner.

There was no walking the quarter deck till the small shot had been cleared away. The next object of consequence was to get rid of the main mast, which with some difficulty was finally rolled overboard. The quantity of damaged spars, with rigging, that was floating about gave proofs of the severity of the contest in which we had been engaged. The
Queen Charlotte,
Lord Howe’s flagship, passed close to leeward of us. She had lost all her topmasts, which prevented his following the French admiral. We gave his Lordship three hearty cheers, at which moment, we were afterwards told, Lord Howe observed, “If every ship of the fleet had followed Capt. Gambler’s example, the result of this action would have been very different from what it is.” The flagship having stood on a little while longer, signals were made to form on the starboard tack. While these things were passing, an opinion existed on board of us that the action would be renewed, as it became clear that the French were fairly beaten.

But that signal was not made. There were 14 sail of the line dismasted, 12 French and two English—ourselves and the
Marlborough,
74,Capt. the Hon. George Berkeley.
²¹
Capt. Gambier, giving me his spy glass (which had been hit by a shot) desired me to let him know the number of ships in the British fleet with topgallant yards across; and as Mr. Twysden overheard that order, he said he would assist me in the counting. We accordingly set to work, and after a strict examination, twice repeated, we made out 18 sail of the line in our fleet with topgallant yards across, and in appearance fit to go into battle. We had 7 disabled ships; the French more than 12. What astonished us most at this critical moment was the want of instructions. No signal had as yet been made to take possession of the enemy’s disabled ships. Capt. Troubridge,
²²
who had been captured in the
Castor,
already mentioned, was a prisoner of war on board the
Sanspareil,
80. He was quite lost at this apparent inactivity. Had that signal been made at the close of the action, we might with ease have captured their 12 disabled ships; instead of which upwards of an hour was allowed to elapse before such a signal was thrown out. In that hour
5 French ships contrived to slip through our line under their spritsails, and join their own to leeward, leaving 7 with us, which were then taken possession of. I hardly know how to restrain my feelings on this subject even now, 26 years after the event.
²³
Had Lord Howe been a younger man, there is every probability—I ought to say
no
doubt—but the action would have been renewed. We were 200 miles away from the land, with plenty of sea room for evolutions. His Lordship was clever at naval tactics: therefore, had the French been brought to action that afternoon, the result would have been the most splendid victory ever achieved on the ocean over our enemy. On our way into port, the many officers that visited the
Defence
expressed the same opinions as I have herewith written down.

Many years afterwards, I heard from the best authority that the Captain of the fleet, Sir Roger Curtis,
²⁴
who had been selected by Lord Howe to assist him in his naval duties, when consulted by his Lordship after the action, replied, “You have gained a victory. Now make sure of it. If you renew the action, who knows what may be the result? Make sure of what you have got. Your Lordship is tired. You had better take some rest, and I will manage the other matters for you.” Lord Howe accordingly went below, to bed I believe, leaving the Captain of the fleet to make signals as he thought necessary.
²⁵

To return to the
Defence:
whilst we were hard at work in clearing the wreck, the
Invincible,
74, the Hon. Capt. Thomas Pakenham,
²⁶
came up and hailed us. These two Captains were very intimate. “Jemmy,” said Capt. Pakenham, “whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth”—in allusion to the shattered condition we were in. Our Captain made a suitable reply, then asked if he had lost many men: to which question he answered, “Damn me if I know. They won’t tell me, for fear I should stop their grog.” A few more words passed, when Capt. Pakenham sent an officer on board to inquire if any help was required. I shall never forget that gentleman. When he came alongside he was dressed in a Guernsey jacket with a welch wig, and had not the slightest appearance of an officer, as all the boat’s crew were similarly attired. When he reached the quarter deck, we ascertained by the buttons on his
smalls that he was a lieutenant—McGuire. He was presented to the Captain, to whom he said he had been sent to offer us assistance. Capt. Gambier naturally put many questions to him relating to the action. His replies were delivered with many oaths, which so disgusted our chief that he turned his back and left him. The lieutenant then, very quietly folding his arms, seated himself on the stump of the main mast; but as none of the
Defences
seemed inclined to take further notice of him after his rudeness, he left the ship. Capt. Pakenham, it seems, had given directions that his officers and Ship’s Company, all Irish, should all be dressed alike: of which Mr. McGuire was a specimen. The Hon. Thos. Pakenham, brother to Lord Longford, was a regular character, and established a discipline on board the
Invincible
in direct opposition to the established rules of the Navy. But as I shall have to bring him again into notice, I take my leave of the Honourable Captain for the present.

We had scarcely done with the
Invincible
when the
Phaeton
Frigate, Capt. George Bentinck,
²⁷
came to take us in tow. This ship had been commanded by Sir Andrew Douglas. Several of my messmates of the
Alcide
were on board her, from whom I received many hearty congratulations at having escaped with my life. I little thought then that I should command that frigate. It is not many months since I paid her off.
²⁸
She was, without exception, one of the best sea boats I have ever had my foot on board. Whilst the frigate was taking us in tow, up came another line of battle ship, the
Valiant
(I believe Capt. Pringle).
²⁹
Her Captain overloaded ours with compliments upon the noble example he had shown to the whole fleet: and among other sayings he insisted that we had sunk an enemy’s ship. This we could not make out. However, it was for a long time the general opinion that we had sent a French 74 to the bottom. But time set this matter at rest. The ship we engaged in breaking the line was called
l’Eole.
She arrived safe at Brest: consequently, she could not have been sunk by us.

So soon as the Surgeon could make his report, it appeared that we had 91 men killed and wounded on this day: altogether, in the two actions of May 29 and June 1, twenty killed and eighty wounded.
³⁰
One of our Mates, Mr. Elliot,
³¹
was severely wounded in the thigh by a grape shot. He was in the first instance moved into the Captain’s cabin, where I saw him resting on a sofa in great agony, until he could be taken below to the doctor. He had served in the American War, and was a very superior young man. The havoc
on board us was terrific. Two of the ports on the larboard side of the main deck were knocked into one by the shot. Only one shot penetrated between wind and water. It came into the bread room on the larboard side and smashed some of the lanterns there, without any serious injury to the ship. The spars upon our booms were sadly cut up. One of our boats, smashed to atoms, was thrown overboard, and, I am sorry to say, many other things were cast into the sea that might have been turned to account. My duty, I thought, was to obey orders, and not to point out the acts of wastefulness I witnessed. No doubt there were many similar ones on board of the other ships. The expense in refitting the fleet must have been immense.

The number of men thrown overboard that were killed, without ceremony, and the sad wrecks around us taught those who, like myself, had not before witnessed similar scenes that war was the greatest scourge of mankind. The first leisure I had, I went to see the Captain of my gun, who had lost his arm. He was in good spirits, and when I told him we had gained the victory, he replied, “Then I don’t mind the loss of my arm. I am satisfied.” Leaving him, I met a young man who had lost a part of his arm. When I spoke to him he was quite cheerful, not seeming to mind his misfortune. He was eating a piece of buttered biscuit as if nothing had happened. It was a very gratifying circumstance to witness so many acts of heroic bravery that were displayed on board our ship. Patriotic sentences were uttered that would have done honour to the noblest minds: yet these were expressed by the humblest class of men.