Frigate Commander (26 page)

To make matters worse, news came of a much more serious mutiny among the North Sea Fleet, which had anchored at the Nore. It must have been with mixed feelings that the squadron received orders to return to Harwich to lift any buoys which might be of use to mutinous ships attempting to break out into the North Sea. This operation might invoke the spectre of sympathy with the mutineers, and Moore was glad when, on 17 May the
Melampus
was ordered to report to Admiral Peyton at the Downs. He hoped that this would mean that he was to be transferred from the St Marcouf station – but whatever the result, he knew the ship needed occupation, and didn’t want to be held at the Downs for long. Even so, at the Downs there were disciplinary problems. One of the ship’s marines got drunk and was insolent to his officer. The man was given two dozen lashes, but appeared to be drunk and unrepentant even as the punishment was being inflicted. Moore ordered him put back in irons. He was however more lenient with

. . . one of the seamen who had been disorderly when drunk, I thought fit to forgive as he expressed contrition for his faults. This is all extremely disgusting.

Matters were not helped by the fact that the frigate
Beaulieu
was now at the Downs, and still suffering from mutinous outbreaks amongst the crew. The Captain had now been replaced and five of the mutineers had been allowed to return back on board, but one of these had immediately attacked the First Lieutenant and had been placed in irons. Some of the crew had immediately attempted to rescue him, arming themselves and running the marine sentry through with a cutlass. The frigate’s officers had initially barricaded themselves in the gunroom then, arming themselves, they had broken out on deck through the cabin skylight, where the mutineers immediately attacked them with cutlasses. Fortunately for the officers, the marines and remainder of the crew came to their assistance. Whilst this desperate struggle was going on, there was consternation among the other frigates at the Downs, who went to quarters and prepared to fire upon the
Beaulieu
. The mutineers were eventually driven below decks where, given time to cool off, they surrendered. Sixteen men had been wounded, several mortally, including one of the mutineers who had been shot by the First Lieutenant in the process of turning one of the fo’c’sle guns on the quarterdeck. It was a bloody and bitter incident that shook Moore considerably:

I am not certain that our men would have stuck by me, but I believe they would. If the Mutineers had attempted to carry the
Beaulieu
to sea I would have cut the cables after her and treated her as an Enemy. Captain Hunt in the
Virginie
was all ready for acting against her. The day following I spoke to our men and after giving them credit for their good behaviour told them I would not give a curse for them if they were not as ready to attack a ship like the
Beaulieu
as an Enemy.

The events at the Nore and the
Beaulieu
mutiny had hardened Moore’s attitude, though he could not help a grudging respect for Richard Parker, the leader of the Nore mutiny. Parker, who had now been sentenced to be hanged,

. . . seems to be a fellow of great intrepidity and considerable abilities . . . he is without doubt a most dangerous and daring man though dissolute and imprudent in an eminent degree. The sooner he and some more of them are hanged the better.

He had now come to believe that many of the mutineers, like the men of the
Beaulieu
, would really have been prepared to hand their ships over to the enemy;
‘They are dangerous knaves and wicked scoundrels.’

The
Melampus
was now held up at the Downs because Moore was required to sit on the court martial of the
Beaulieu
mutineers. She was joined there by the frigates
Garland
and
Southampton
, the latter commanded by James Macnamara, having just arrived from St Vincent’s fleet blockading Cadiz. On 4 July the courts martial began on the
Beaulieu
mutineers. The man who had struck the First Lieutenant was found guilty, but because of some favourable circumstance was recommended
‘. . . to the mercy of a lesser punishment’
. Another man was ordered to receive 100 lashes
‘. . . from ship to ship’
. The rest of the mutineers were tried two days later, and seven of the sixteen were condemned to death – though Moore thought that, in the end, only four would be executed. Perhaps in an attempt to escape from the horrors of the courts martial, Moore found himself thinking more and more about Miss M. Once again he reminded himself that he was not in a financial position to propose marriage, but he decided that if he could win the lady’s affections he would certainly marry her,

. . . for I find myself wretched without her, or at least until I am rejected by her. I do not, however, intend to hang myself, although she is dearer to me than all the world besides.

In desperation, he sat down and wrote a declaration of his love,
‘. . . which I do not believe I will ever send to her.’

To his disappointment, in the middle of July, Moore was ordered to rejoin Strachan off the coast of France. Still, at least he was away from the Downs and the turmoil of the Channel Fleet; and he could always console himself with the fact that he was not being sent to the disease-ridden West Indies, where brother John had buried more than three-quarters of his men in less than eighteen months;

He himself has several times been dangerously ill, but fortunately survived what has proved fatal to thousands under his command. He is my dearest friend and the man in the world I love and value the most; if he had died I scarce think my Mother could have borne his loss, he is now at home and she and my Father never can be happier.

On the 24th, Moore fell in with the frigates
Stag
,
Pearl
and the sloop
Cynthia
off Le Havre. In Strachan’s temporary absence, Captain Joseph Sidney Yorke, in the
Stag,
was senior officer, and had been ordered to remain on the station until the
Diamond
returned. He explained to Moore that he only intended to remain off Le Havre during the Spring tides, and as soon as these subsided he would give the frigates leeway to cruise. Moore was greatly reassured by the remarkable rapidity with which the crew of the
Melampus
settled back into the usual routine, once they were on active duty:

Our men are getting quite into the old way again, I do not believe they have any mischief in their heads, and I am much mistaken if they would not behave with great spirit if we met an enemy.

By 29 July, the spring tides had passed, and Yorke gave Moore permission to cruise on the western edge of the station, returning again for the following springs. Eagerly, Moore ran westwards, scarcely heeding the onset of heavy weather. The frigate rounded Cape Barfleur during heavy rain squalls, lit by continuous flashes of lightning and with her crew shuddering under the impact of large hail stones. Moore wisely ordered all sails clewed up and, shortly after, the wind slammed round to the opposite direction, taking the ship aback even without her sails. Fortunately, little harm came to her. Sailing on to St Malo, Moore found the seas empty.

On 10 August the
Melampus
rejoined the squadron off Le Havre, to find that Strachan had returned. The squadron, which now consisted of the frigates
Diamond
,
Melampus
,
Flora
and
Syren
– which Moore considered
‘. . . a very respectable light squadron’
– set off to patrol the coast as far as Ushant. They were joined off Guernsey by the frigate
Pearl
and on arrival Moore climbed to the frigate’s masthead in the early morning to see Bridport’s fleet in the distance. They then returned to Le Havre where the
Syren
stopped a French corvette which turned out to be a cartel carrying English prisoners of war. By extraordinary coincidence, many of the English prisoners turned out to be the seamen from the
Diamond
who had been captured along with Sidney Smith and these were hurriedly signed back on the
Diamond
’s books. Strachan had also now received orders to send the
Melampus
back to Spithead, and Moore was ordered to escort the corvette there. As he sailed northwards leaving the squadron behind, Moore could not help wondering what lay in store. He had hopes that the Admiralty would at last send him to join Warren’s squadron, perhaps in place of the
Artois
:

I am very glad to leave the unprofitable station of St. Marcouf, but it is with regret that I part with Strachan a man whom I love and esteem and who always had great confidence in me.

At Portsmouth there was, indeed, wonderful news. The
Melampus
was ordered to complete her stores and sail for Falmouth, the base used by both Sir John Borlase Warren’s and Edward Pellew’s frigate squadrons. She put to sea on 4 September, but before leaving, Moore had a memorable encounter:

I saw the brave Rear Admiral Nelson on his return, with the loss of his right arm, from the unfortunate attempt upon Sancta Cruz. He is in perfect health and spirits; his wound with that of Freemantle, the death of the Gallant and able Captain Richard Bowen of the
Terpsichore
and many valuable officers, seamen and marines would have been by far too dear a price for the success of the expedition. I think, from all that I have heard, that the attempt was a rash one, and altho’ unsuccessful, yet honourable to the British Navy, much daring enterprise, courage and perseverance having been displayed in the execution. I believe their intelligence has been very erroneous.

The
Melampus
beat her way along the south coast in thick weather, for the autumn rains had set in early. Nevertheless, Moore was in good mood, for he was about to join Warren whom he considered
‘. . . a very active, dashing and brave officer’
and he was anticipating a future where he would

. . . possess £800 a year for myself and the lass I love, with whom I wish to settle in the country within 30 miles of London and there occupy myself with the study of human Nature, my friends and my family. Occasionally visiting those parts of England and Scotland that are most interesting.

It was a happy vision – and one which had been fed on the reputation of the Falmouth Squadrons for taking prizes.

Then, three days after reporting to Warren at Falmouth, Moore’s hopes were cruelly crushed. The two independent frigate squadrons were to be returned to the close control of the widely disliked Admiral Lord Bridport;

This is both disagreeable and prejudicial to the Captains composing the above squadrons as it takes away one third of their Prize Money, and cramps them in their operations.

The move was quite probably equally unwelcome to the seamen also. The
Melampus
herself was also to be placed under Bridport’s command.

For nearly two weeks, the frigates waited for orders to see how they were to be redeployed. Finally, Moore received orders to join the frigate
Phoebe
, commanded by the extremely capable and experienced Captain Robert Barlow, to cruise west of Scilly for the protection of several homeward-bound West Indiamen, which were thought to have become separated from their convoy. Moore was now in the best position he had ever been of obtaining his heart’s desire. There was no other

. . . chance of becoming independent than by Prize Money, this station may produce in the course of a few months enough to double my stock
⁵⁷
; I should then be rich enough in my own eyes, to try the affections of the woman I love; if she considered the mediocrity of my fortune as an obstacle to her consenting to marry, I would give up all thoughts of her, convinced that she did not love me and that I had mistaken her character. My wishes are now for retirement, not completely so, but living in the country, with a small society of old friends; married to the woman I am sure I love, and meeting occasionally the men I love, admire and esteem; ready at the call of the Country to come forth and serve it with zeal and vigour; having enough to leave my family in decent and moderate circumstances, becoming their rank and situation in life, while I am absent or in case of my death.

The cruise nearly ended prematurely in disaster when the two frigates were twenty-two leagues south-west of Scilly. At 5am on the 26 September, they were ploughing through a very heavy cross sea, lashed by squalling rain, when

. . . by the ignorance of the Officer of the Watch, we had very nigh pitched all the masts away, he brought her up against the sea when we were going 7 knots. The fore sail was filled with water and split to pieces, one of the Bumpkins snapt short off and the step of the other tore up; An hour afterwards we split the main top sail in the act of taking it in. The
Phoebe
split her fore and main top sails.

Two days later they fell in with the battered West India convoy, and their almost disabled escort, the
Janus
. Bad weather continued as the convoy made its way towards the Lizard, and the conditions were beginning to have their effect on the morale of their crew. Provisions were running low and Moore had been obliged to reduce the grog ration, serving small beer instead. He was aware that this had caused some discontent and grumbling, but he also detected the long-term effects of the mutiny. Whilst he had always encouraged the men to express any grievances, rather than bottle them up, he felt
‘. . . they are too apt now to come up with frivolous and ill founded complaints’.
Off the Lizard, the
Phoebe
disappeared to the south-west, leaving the
Melampus
to struggle on up the channel with the convoy. Off Portland the weather improved, but the whole gathering became becalmed and Moore surveyed his charges gloomily:
‘I fear we shall not get rid of these lads tomorrow.’
Nevertheless, the wind soon picked up, and by 3 October he was heading back towards Falmouth.