Frigate Commander (44 page)

We are very indifferently manned, and it will be a long time before this ship’s company will become tolerably expert. She is by no means a safe ship to get into an intricate Navigation or to trust on a lee shore.

The weather continued wild and squally and Moore’s gloom continued. He could find no interest in his profession and began to find fault with himself and his ability to command:

I hate to punish and I am indolent and too easy . . . I have here no Society. No Women. My life passes away like a dream.

What was worse, he was again having problems with his right eye and now began to fear that he might lose the sight in it completely. The possibility that he might be forced again to give up the command of another ship, and in particular the
Indefatigable
, mortified him:

She is the last thing in the shape of a frigate that I am likely ever to command, and I do not expect to be allowed to keep her above a twelvemonth even if I preserve my health.

As the days passed, Moore’s depression grew deeper. The crew were almost all badly clothed and they had been perpetually wet for the last three weeks. It was hardly surprising that they seemed to have little spirit and Moore knew well the dangers that lurked in this situation;

I would not lead them into action with any great confidence . . .
though he conceded that
they are probably at least as good as those we may have to encounter.

He was cheered somewhat when, on 17 November, the
Indefatigable
was joined by the frigate
L’Aigle
, commanded by Captain George Wolfe, an extremely capable frigate commander who, although nearly Moore’s age, had not been promoted to Post Captain until the end of 1800.
¹²⁶
Fortunately, Moore’s health remained generally good, which was just as well because they were experiencing
‘. . . very bleak, raw, uncomfortable weather, the wind at south east’.
As ever the commander’s isolation grew, and occupied his thoughts:

It is very curious that, although I am very tolerably off for Officers and on very good terms with them all, I have very little pleasure in the conversation of any of them. Is it the Naval Discipline which occasions this, or are we ill suited to each other for social intercourse? Both these objections may operate. I have a real regard for some of them and would really exert myself to serve them, but their conversation is tasteless to me. I have recourse to my books and to my memory for solace and for pleasure. I am tired of commanding and of obeying.

It occurred to him that he could consider resigning, but the thought appalled him:

What right have I to shake myself clear of it more than the Captain of the Forecastle whom we pressed – Poor Fellow! I am tired of it but I will go on, we must do something.

The spell of bad and wet weather continued. Moore was keeping station close to the land with difficulty and was all too well aware of the great danger that they stood in on occasions. Twice the frigate had been taken aback in a most hazardous fashion, but they had been fortunate to escape without injury to the ship. Equally badly, the weather was preventing any improvement in the general efficiency of the ship. Moore was torn between the need to put his men under pressure and consideration of their wellbeing;

I have had no opportunity of practising them at the Guns. We must not worry them too much, poor fellows.

This, and the growing sick list made him despondent about his ability to achieve anything. His crew was still inexperienced, and in his depression Moore turned to blaming himself as much as they:

I do not think the fellows I have with me would cut any great figure in a struggle. The ship runs away with them. We have too few seamen. I do not know if other men take themselves to task as I do, or if I am blind to the faults and weaknesses of the people around me as much as many of my friends seem blind to mine. But I certainly do not stand high in my own opinion . . . I do not wish for more reputation in the world than I believe I have, because I believe I have my due. I wish to
deserve
more.

The problem was highlighted on 24 November, when the
Indefatigable
went to quarters on sighting two strangers who turned out to be British men-of-war;

The People appeared to me to shew a good countenance but there was a good deal of confusion. A line of Battle ship and a frigate are not to be trifled with, especially in the state we are in, with so many raw hands.

However, he was at least cheered by the spirit shown on this occasion:

On the whole they are the best I have ever had. Exceedingly well disposed and all willing and active.

Towards the end of November, Moore received another reinforcement in the form of the frigate
Doris
, commanded by Captain Patrick Campbell. A few days later they sighted a convoy sailing under the escort of a frigate and gunboats between the Isle de Groix and the mainland. Seeing the two English frigates, the convoy began to anchor under the protection of shore batteries on the island and nearby mainland. Moore hauled off for the night and, at first light, sent in boats to try to cut out several of the vessels; however the boats came under heavy fire and, rather than expose the frigates to the guns of the shore batteries, he called off the attack. Although the two frigates had failed in their attempt to take any of the French convoy, Moore was far from dissatisfied with the event, as he recorded on the following day:

Yesterday afforded tolerable exercise to our people, as we have had so much necessary business to do in the ship, when the weather was tolerable, that the men have had very little or no useful practice at the guns, and when they have an Enemy to fire at and the shot are whistling about their ears it does them ten times as much good as the more common affair of exercising the guns. A shell yesterday burst so near us that a splinter from it struck our Mizzen chains. They fired a great many shells from the batteries on both sides at the ship. Captain Campbell of the
Doris
came on board and dined with me after we stood off, and, as he is a remarkable gallant fellow, I was exceedingly happy that he was perfectly of my opinion with regard to the imprudence of attacking them, situated as they were.

Soon afterwards, the
Doris
sailed to rejoin the Channel Fleet and the
Indefatigable
was left alone once again. The sea became almost devoid of ships and Moore came to the conclusion that a continental embargo had been imposed. December drifted past in dismal inactivity and Moore found himself with little else to note in his journal:

This has been a most gloomy, cheerless, inhospitable day, damp and dreary, and powerful were the effects of an opening in the clouds and a burst of evening sun shine on my spirits.

On Christmas Eve, the
Indefatigable
fell in with the
Defiance
(74), commanded by Captain Philip Durham, an old friend and shipmate of Moore’s. The weather, though, was too bad for any social visiting and in any case, Moore’s attention was too closely focussed on his own crew, for it was a bad day. Firstly, because of the rough sea, one of the seamen broke his leg whilst working in the hold, then two men fell from the main yard onto the boats on the booms. One broke his thigh and the other was badly bruised.

The following day, Moore wrote in his journal:

This is Christmas, a day on which one naturally likes to think of our home and of our friends. I have been drawing groups of them in my mind, certainly thinking sometimes of their Old Companion and guessing where he might be and how differently employed from them in the ‘Hall, where beards wag all’ . . . Many a rough and unsociable Christmas have I spent on the waves. Well I am here on my Post . . .

There wasn’t long for relaxation; on 28 December, at 4am, the wind suddenly shifted seven points from the south-west to north-west by west, and blew up a perfect storm. Luckily, the frigate was already carrying only a close reefed main topsail and foresail;

We got the courses furled with great difficulty and the Main and Mizen top gallant masts struck, but the fore top gallant mast was blown away and the main top sail split to pieces. If the gale had continued with equal violence we should probably have been in a damned scrape as the few seamen we had could only do one thing at a time and the half seamen were afraid to do any thing aloft. We are very weak indeed in seamen, but we must make the best of it, the weather was very trying, but I was very much chagrined at their spiritless and awkward behaviour.

That same day, the sailor who had broken his leg falling from the main yard died. As always, Moore was genuinely sorrowful:

The poor young fellow had been delirious almost ever since, and when not in that state appeared to suffer much; the other man is likely to recover without any permanent ill consequences.

He felt as sincerely about this as indeed he did when he was forced to order a flogging:

The necessity of inforcing the most necessary regulations by punishment is exceedingly disgusting to me and yet it is absolutely unavoidable as the class of men we have to deal with are some of them so brutified that only corporal punishment can restrain them from drunkenness and other vile excesses which from their dangerous effects are unpardonable crimes at sea. The love of grog gets the better of the fear of punishment with some of them and the punishment of these determined sots deters the rest in some degree but scarce a week passes that I am not obliged to punish some men for this baneful vice. It weighs down my spirits to be forced to these degrading exhibitions of human Nature. Discipline is a very necessary evil, but it is one. Perfect Liberty is inconsistent with any state of society, but I am always for imposing no restrictions but those that are clearly necessary for the good of the whole.

Although the problem of drunkenness was a ubiquitous problem in the Royal Navy, Moore had never had to deal with it to quite the same extent as he did now. To a large extent his previous crews had been composed of volunteers or experienced frigate seamen, with a few hard cases thrown in. The crew of the
Indefatigable
, as we have seen, was composed of a largely inexperienced draft of men. Despite Moore’s best efforts it was taking time to weld them into an efficient and conscientious team – and until that was achieved, many of them would continue to find comfort and escape in alcohol. There was, however, a more insidious problem. A number of the crew had ganged together and were bullying or terrorizing the more peaceful members of the crew. Among the gang was an Irishman who had been entered by the civil powers as an alternative to a custodial sentence. Moore was already aware of this man,

. . . a most infamous character and one of a gang of ruffians we have on board that require looking very sharp after. They are few in number but I believe are capable on any atrocity.

One night when he should have been on deck, a seaman challenged the man after he had disturbed the watch in their hammocks. Drawing a knife, the Irishman slashed the backs of the other man’s legs, cutting his tendons. Moore was both aghast and furious:

The man’s leg has been dreadfully cut but the Surgeon has hopes he will not be lame, one of the Arteries was divided and obliged to be taken up.

The culprit was immediately seized and put in irons, but no witness would come forward;

It seems curious that a few fellows of this description should make themselves formidable in a ship, but so it is. The seamen although they know them to be villains and cut-throats are very averse to peach against them, they wish to have nothing to do with them. These fellows herd together and support each other, while the rest of the men act separately, by which means and by talking big they make themselves feared. These fellows have been heard to use the most mutinous expressions, but all the information I have yet heard has been general, they hear the expressions but they pretend they do not know who used them, it was in the dark.

Although Moore had an informant among the crew, the man did not wish to put himself at risk and Moore certainly had no desire to expose him.

On 11 January, Moore headed north for orders from Cornwallis. Violent gales had set in and one night, just as Moore was getting into his cot, the frigate was hit by a violent squall. Almost naked, he ran on deck to supervise the taking in of sails, which was eventually achieved, but with great difficulty. Cornwallis ordered the
Indefatigable
back to Plymouth. She entered the Sound in a gale having lost her fore topgallant mast, which was blown overboard to the great alarm of the men who were in the process of striking it at the time. Fortunately, no-one was injured. The frigate anchored in the Sound but the wind began to blow even harder. As Moore stood on deck watching the worsening conditions, the frigate
Boadicea
at the outermost edge of the moorings, parted a cable and ran athwart the bows of the frigate
Loire
, carrying away her bowsprit. The
Loire
then drove down onto the
Indefatigable
. As she did so her foremast collapsed onto the bows of the
Indefatigable
, springing her bowsprit in turn and shattering the cutwater and head. The crews managed to disentangle the frigates, but the
Loire
was unable to pull far ahead of the
Indefatigable
and both ships rode out the gale in a highly perilous situation as the former rode on the
Indefatigable
’s larboard cable,