CHAPTER VII

THE _GALATEA_

[Sidenote: 1830. Portsmouth. Feb. 11, March 6.]

Joined _Galatea_, one of the Channel Squadron, Captain Charles Napier, C.B.

Joined Lieutenant Alexander Cotton, in place of Lieutenant F. V. Cotton.

[Sidenote: March 11.]

We left Spithead to go to assistance of the _Wolf_, on shore at back of Isle of Wight: with our boats, and assistance of dockyard lighters, she was got off during afternoon of following day.

[Sidenote: Mar. 12.]

We returned through the Needles: in running for Spithead with signal flying, “_Wolf_ saved,” we grounded on the Middle Bank. Still floated however with rising tide.

[Sidenote: April 5.]

Weighed and ran through Needles Passage; next day becalmed; shipped paddles, and worked them into Torbay. Sailed following day.

[Sidenote: April 9.]

Plymouth Sound. Saluted the flag of Earl of Northesk.

[Sidenote: June 3.]

On a fine day in June we performed one of those feats that astonished our shore-going friends. On the 3rd at 3 A.M. the _Galatea_ was lying at Spithead with royal yards across, and ready for sea. By noon she was stripped to her gantlings, and the service on the collars of her lower rigging was repaired. By 7 P.M. she was re-rigged and decks cleared, supposed to be ready for sea.

[Sidenote: June 27.]

Hoisted colours half-mast on the death of His Majesty George IV.

[Sidenote: June 28.]

Yards manned, and a double royal salute fired on the accession of King William IV.

[Sidenote: July 15.]

Fired thirty minute-guns on the interment of His late Majesty George IV.

[Sidenote: July 25.]

While off Brighton people visited the ship; mine was by way of being the show cabin. I was struck by the appearance of a remarkably handsome couple--alas! now no more. It was some time after that I found out they were the parents of the present Admiral Heneage and his sister the Countess of Essex.

[Sidenote: Aug. 16.]

On my father acquainting the king that he had three good horses for the Goodwood Cup, asked by which horse His Majesty wished to win. “Win by all three,” said the king. The horses came in in following manner: Fleur de Lis, 1, Zingaree, 2, and Colonel, 3.

Our Captain had a hobby, which was that he could propel a ship with paddles which could be easily fixed or withdrawn from a ship’s side. They were to be propelled by iron winch-handles attached to stanchions on either side of the main-deck. They did not succeed against the slightest head-wind. He was much chaffed by the way he spelt the word “winches” in his semi-official despatch to the Admiralty, which, he said, “only required stout hands to lay into them.”

In those days any peer visiting a man-of-war was entitled to a salute. It was my afternoon watch, when a boat from Ryde came alongside with a party, which turned out to be Earl Spencer; no name better known or more respected. On finding that the Captain was on shore, he inquired if there was not a Lieutenant Keppel in the ship. Nothing could have been kinder; he wanted to take me on shore with him to dine, but I happened to be the senior officer in charge. I had the honour of manning yards, and firing the last salute of many his lordship had had.

I need not say that I was relieved in ample time to enjoy an excellent dinner. Lady Spencer, who was equally fond of the Navy, would have taken care of me, but I had an appointment that night on the top of Portsdown, where the famous fair was going on, having secured a four-oared boat to cross the water, and a horse to take me to the hill.

Having two days’ leave, I drove a Gosport gig to Bishopstoke to visit my worthy kinsman, Tom Garnier, Dean of Winchester. When I got back, _Galatea_ had sailed for Lisbon. I was sorry; I wanted to see the place I had heard so much of from my Portuguese schoolfellows, Alvaro Lopes Pereira and Francisco Nunes Vizieu. The only thing they had to give me an idea of the magnificence of Lisbon was an old print of the great earthquake, which looked to me as if the churches and other buildings were on a cruise in the Bay of Biscay.

Glanville was promoted from _Tweed_ and appointed to _Pallas_ (Captain Lord Adolphus Fitz-Clarence), likewise of the Channel Squadron. A party of us, Frank Scott, George Wodehouse, and self, got the then famous Ned Neal from London to teach us the noble art of self-defence. We three had lodgings in St. Thomas’s Street; Glanville was an experienced hand, but took an interest in our training: there were many to instruct, and Neal had his hands full.

Hands from the dockyard, after work, were rude, pushing us off the pavement. However, science began to tell, but with me the wrong way. Broken nose, upper lip twice cut then, and sewn up. After dark, parties sallied forth from the “Keppel’s Head.” Both sides met at the Mill Dam, a sort of neutral ground where constables could not interfere without writs from both sides.

Tandems, too, were equal to the demand; one of us would drive Mr. Neal, others acting as convoy as far as Chichester, and there entertain him. On the whole, our pugilistic meets were conducted quietly; the dockyard maties treated us more respectfully. In addition to self-defence we had lessons in driving.

I used to pay half a guinea to Scarlett for being allowed the box-seat, and to hold the heavy heads of seven or eight teams between Portsmouth and London. The whip I learned to handle, but after a couple of stages my arm ached and straightened. As for driving, the horses guided themselves, and stopped of their own accord within an inch of where they had to change.

Before the winter set in, Glanville and I determined to entertain Mr. Ned Neal to a dinner at a respectable house called the Castle Tavern, Holborn, kept by Mr. Thomas Winter, better known in the pugilistic world as “Tom Spring.” I think we sat down twenty-two: nothing could be more decorous. The “whips” exceeded the pugilists in number, but harmony prevailed. Glanville had Faulkner, of the Rocket, and Tom Spring, on his right and left, while I had Ned Neal, and the more magnificent Mr. Scarlett, who was dressed in his usual drab breeches and white stockings, neat shoes--I suppose he thought tops looked too shoppy--buff vest, a voluminous white choker over a large plaited frill. In addition, a flower-garden in the capacious breast of a blue frock--all for the honour of the Portsmouth “Regulator.” There was nothing to come near him. Mr. Neal was similar in the lower dress, but wore a blue tie with small white spots--his own colours. I brought a great favourite in T. P. Cooke.

The company for some time was very decorous. Ale enough to float a jolly-boat, topped up with port wine for loyal toasts. Comic songs finished the evening. Later, the idea of a naval entertainment drew a cheery crowd outside the Castle Tavern.

[Sidenote: Sept. 10.]

_Galatea_ returned from Lisbon.

[Sidenote: Sept. 14.]

The Right Hon. John Wilson Croker visited the ship and inspected paddles.

[Sidenote: Oct. 4.]

A garbled account of an accident which befell Lieutenant A. Cotton and myself, prior to our departure for the West Indies, was published on October 4 in the local paper.

What really happened was this: Cotton and self, leave up, had to return on board. He had just taken leave of his parents at the George Hotel. It was blowing fresh from the south; ebb-tide. We had hired one of the Isle of Wight wherries. The Poole Packet, a large sailing cutter bound same way, caught us at entrance of the harbour. There being no room to spare, our helms were put down at the same time. The end of the packet’s bowsprit, catching our wherry’s stern, lifted her end over end.

Being the lightest, I was sent farthest, which enabled me to clasp the end of the cutter’s bowsprit as she dipped. I held on like grim death, the wind preventing my voice being heard. Every plunge in the necessarily short tacks ducked me under water.

[Illustration: _The Poole Packet._]

It was only when outside, and clear of the strength of the tide, that one of the crew discovered and hauled me in. Well outside, we hailed a man-of-war cutter; I got landed at the Point to look after my friend. Boats having been at hand, no lives were lost. I found Billy spread out on a table in a public-house, but, having imbibed something more to his taste than salt water, he did not recognise me. I hurried off to let his parents know he was safe. They had, however, left for Cambridge, comfortably seated behind two pairs of posters.

We sailed that afternoon for Dover, returning to Spithead on the 10th.

[Sidenote: Nov. 14.]

We embarked Governor Sir John Hill and suite for passage to St. Vincent. Received also smugglers for West Indian station.

A brother officer of mine once told a high personage that if the service had its due the name of Keppel would not now be on the Navy List. I perfectly agree with my friend, and should he take the trouble to finish this chapter, he will be convinced how right he was. He has a charming wife, and gives very good dinners. I have now, as I write, an invitation to one.

[Sidenote: Dec. 17.]

On nearing the Tropic we were visited by Neptune, when much the same eccentricities were performed as described in my account of the _Tweed_ when crossing the “Line.”

A spare topsail was lowered on to the main-deck, the leach-ropes secured to coamings on upper deck, which when filled with water made a respectable pond. It was my morning watch. I was contemplating this bath, when one of the youngsters informed me that the Captain, who had just come on deck, intended to push me in. Leaning over with hands on my knees, I felt the sudden pressure on my right shoulder, which gave way, and the Captain losing his balance, went in instead of me, his shoes the last of him to disappear.

[Sidenote: 1831. Jan. 7.]

Arrived at Barbadoes.

In those days there were no facilities for watering; we had to hoist our boom-boats, place in them water-casks which were filled at the most convenient place to be found; generally near some stream running to the sea.

This was the case at Barbadoes. The Second Master was sent with the party. Late in the morning, the officer of the watch, thinking it time a turn of water should be on its way, observed that not only were the boats empty, but the crew were rolling about the beach. An officer and party of marines were sent to bring them off. It was past the dinner-hour, and Collier, the First Lieutenant, naturally much put out.

Two o’clock was our gunroom hour. Just as I had sat down, a mid informed me that I was required to go for a turn of water. I was at once, in cocked hat and side-arms, on deck.

I told Collier that, if he had consulted me, I could have informed him that the tempting-looking green cocoanuts always tasted strong of new rum. As it was, I had to go without my dinner. Not another word passed between us.

Everything went smoothly. In an unusually short time I got back. The Captain was on deck; I saw him coming, and thought he was going to compliment me on the smart manner in which my turn of water had been brought off. He always addressed me in broad Scotch, and began with:

“Meester Karpel, I understand that ye refused to gang for water when ordered by the _Firrst_ Leaftenant.”

I was riled and hungry, and replied that if the First Lieutenant had told him that, he had told an untruth.

Old Charlie was furious (I think he had had luncheon), ordered me to my cabin, and to consider myself under close arrest, to be tried by court-martial.

I was grieved and hurt, and brooded over my trouble as I took my solitary meal. I felt, too, for Collier, who was a zealous and good officer. I had many friends to condole with me--among others, a man named Lane, whom I had known at Portsmouth; but I think he took his tea a little too strong, and left our service. He was now mate of a fine West Indiaman lying in the roads.

After a chat about old times, he supposed he could do nothing for me. In reply, I thought he was the only person who _could_ do anything.

There were four men-of-war in the roads--_Mersey_, 26; _Ranger_, 28; _Shannon_, 46--which ensured a dignity ball I meant to attend.

I proposed that at 10 P.M. my friend should have a small boat under the starboard bow of the _Galatea_, with one hand only to land me, as well as to take me off when I wanted.

Lane knew remonstrance was useless. After the Master-at-Arms had looked into my cabin at 10 P.M., and reported “Prisoner safe” to the officer of the watch, I changed into white frock and trousers, put clothes bag between the sheets, my shoes outside to be cleaned, passed the gunroom door sentry as an officer’s servant, bumped under the hammocks on starboard side of the lower deck, up the fore ladder, through the bow-port, dropped into my boat, was up the wooden steps of the landing-place; then there was “such a getting upstairs and a playing of the fiddle.” I was in the giddy throng doing the double shuffle opposite a dark beauty, when the name of Old Charlie was called out.

He was not difficult to spot. He threw his coat and epaulettes into a corner, and was at once performing the Scotch shuffle in my set; in crossing over for the change, I was collared by my shipmates and pushed out.

[Illustration: _The Dignity Ball._]

I thought to retrace my steps, when on the landing, which was well lighted, who should I run against but Captain George Courtney, of the _Mersey_, with whom Napier had dined! He recognised me in spite of my disguise. I had known him as the friend of my late kind Captain, Lord John Churchill. He accosted me with:

“Your name’s Keppel. You are under arrest.”

I touched my hat and said, “Yes; but you won’t say anything.”

He answered, “Get on board as soon as you can, or you will lose your commission.”

I followed his advice and retraced my steps.

[Sidenote: Jan. 8.]

The next morning I ascertained the prisoner had been reported “Safe” throughout the night.

[Sidenote: Jan. 9.]

We sailed for St. Vincent the following day. Before landing our Governor, Sir John Hill, under a salute, with yards manned, he visited my cabin in full dress.

[Sidenote: Jan. 11.]

We had been on very friendly terms. I see his cocked hat now, with its fringe of white feathers. He said how sorry he had been on hearing from the Captain that he had been obliged to place me under arrest, and had interceded for me.

Captain Napier had given him permission to say that if I would make a proper apology to the First Lieutenant I should be allowed to return to my duty.

[Sidenote: Jan. 12.]

Next morning I was sent for to the Captain’s cabin, where I found Collier. My previous good conduct enabled the Captain to state that, if I would only express my regret, I might return to my duty. I thanked the Captain, said I had already written a letter applying for a court-martial, and that the apology must be made to me.

[Sidenote: Jamaica]

Next day, before arrival at Port Royal, I was ordered to return to duty. Three years later, at the Old Navy Club in Bond Street, when I was a Commander, we dined together, and I told him the whole story. Of course, he was going to try me by court-martial then and there!

While on this station I had the opportunity of making acquaintance with an interesting people--the Creoles of our West Indies.

These kind people seemed to live by and for the Navy. The wars of the eighteenth century threw money into their hands, and during Rodney’s time the ladies gradually lost their dark polish. Commencing as washerwomen, and supplying officers’ messes, they accumulated money. Some of them became the owners of slaves. In Jamaica, years after they had grown into colonists, many emigrated to other islands under our flag rather than mix with the sugar-planting negroes. But it was by their cleanliness, kindness, and attention to sick or wounded that they became so necessary and were the means of saving many lives. It was not only at Barbadoes, but at Port Royal, Jamaica, St. Vincent, and St. Lucia that these ladies used to hold their levees and talk freely of their absent aristocratic relations.

Miss Betsy Austin and Miss Nancy Pugett were celebrated during my time. They had much dignity, and kept a large number of servants.

On one occasion, when I could not answer for the whereabouts of her aristocratic son-in-law, Miss Nancy Pugett hazarded the opinion that “He had gone Norf shoot ’em grouse!”

[Sidenote: Port Royal, Jamaica, Jan. 21.]

Refitted in a few days. Received invalids and officers for passage to England.

[Sidenote: Jan. 24.]

Weighed with convoy, who parted company as convenient to themselves.

[Sidenote: Feb. 5.]

Anchored off Tampico Bar. Surf too high to admit of landing. Northerly gale. Ship rolling heavily. Topmasts struck.

[Sidenote: Feb. 14.]

Sailed.

[Sidenote: Off Sacrificios, Feb. 16.]

Unbent sails. Our boats refitted; lower rigging requiring to be turned in afresh after the stretching off Tampico. Found United States corvette _Natchetts_ here.

[Sidenote: Feb. 19.]

During my afternoon watch a young officer from the American ship came on board. He was anxious to speak to our senior midshipman. I sent to my old friend, Arthur Noad, and introduced them. The officer stated, “We have received orders from our Congress to amalgamate with you Britishers, and shall be glad to see you all at dinner on board our ship.” The following day those who could be spared attended the invitation. Their midshipmen’s berth, like our own, was on the lower deck, thrown open for air by the upper part of the bulkhead being on hinges.

The dinner was good, and a nice feeling and understanding existed. After dinner the Chairman filled his glass, and proposed “King and President,” which was drunk with enthusiasm by all, save one ultra-sensitive American, who, holding up his glass, said, “Here’s to the President. The King I shall place in the steerage,” chucking at the same moment the remainder of his wine. The rest of the party broke up in mutual good humour.

Two days afterwards our mids gave a return dinner, and invited the gentlemen of the corvette; begging, however, to except the one who had flung the King in the steerage.

I happened, as before, to be officer of the watch when the excluded mid came on board and requested an interview with our senior midshipman. I sent for Noad. The American informed him that he considered he had been grossly insulted, and demanded satisfaction from one and all the British midshipmen. I informed the Captain what had happened, who ordered his gig to be manned, and, directing me to detain the officer, went on board the _Natchetts_. He returned shortly followed by her Captain, who asked permission to bring an armed boat alongside, in which had been placed the chest and other effects of the contumacious officer.

We found afterwards that the poor fellow had been landed on the mainland, south of Sacrificios. Considering the character of the Spanish-Mexican on that coast, it would have been kinder to have kept his chest and saved his head. Had our Captain been aware of the poor fellow’s possible fate, intercession would have been made.

[Sidenote: Feb. 16.]

Came to off Tampico Bar. As we were to be here for some time, I obtained leave for Tennant, one of our mates, to accompany me on an excursion up the river.

We hired a roomy canoe. Our crew consisted of one young and active Mexican, his arms, a couple of paddles and a long pole. Our kitchen, a large iron kettle which stood on a flat stone. We had our mattresses and mosquito-curtains.

For young sportsmen nothing could be more interesting. The variety of birds in a tropical climate is extraordinary--curlew and cranes, herons and storks, parrots and pigeons, ducks with canvas-backs, sea-gulls, with hawks and eagles to watch over them; porpoises and alligators. The scenery changed with nearly every bend of the river--patches of jungle and inland swamp: at all eligible spots, haciendas.

A trifle of money supplied us with eggs and milk, ham and garlic. At night our canoe was secured to its pole a few yards from the bank, which saved us visits from an occasional alligator. From the haciendas we got a variety of deer’s horns merely for taking them away; and though neither of us spoke Spanish, it was wonderful how soon our “crew” understood what we wanted. By the time we got back to the ship we had exceeded our leave by two days.

[Sidenote: Mar. 4.]

We found in our absence the Prince of Würtemburg had visited the ship, and been received with royal honours.

[Sidenote: Mar. 26.]

A bar at the mouth of a large river is more than a seaman can manage; the fresh water, trying to force its way into the sea, meets resistance at points which vary and cause change and position of shoals. River and sea meeting cause a rise which the occupants of boats cannot see over.

I was sent with the next water-party, consisting of launch, pinnace, and cutter, myself in a gig. We were clear of the ship just before daybreak. A nice sea-breeze had set in; not fresh enough to carry a heavy boat through surf under sail, but sufficient to render pulling easy. Before nearing the breakers we assembled within hail, that I might let the officers in charge know what I had noticed during the weeks we were here in the _Tweed_, as I wished each to use his own discretion before entering a surf through which no one could see.

“When a wave is rolling in, do not follow close. Directly the crest of a high wave breaks, its strength diminishes. On entering breakers keep well clear of one another. The most treacherous of all is a dark wall of water, which forms at some distance to seaward--say a cable’s length. It increases in speed and height without apparent cause. Get to sea beyond the low ends without delay.”

After this sermon I saw the boats separate to select their points of entrance, and observed young Carrington, in the cutter, select a place I should have chosen myself, then lost sight of him. On casting a look to seaward, I found myself caught in the same sort of trap of which I had given them warning. There was the dark ridge of unbroken water approaching, and increasing in speed. No time to be lost; head, luckily, in-shore, mast stept, sail hoisted, halyards and sheet led aft, which passed under the thwart I held with one hand, tiller ropes in the other: crew on either side dropped in the water, holding on with one hand.

[Illustration: _Crossing Tampico Bar._]

Directly I found the wave was carrying us as fast as the wind, I let go the halyards.

The next moment we were over the bar. A heavier boat must have been lost.

Our danger was past, but the cutter had been upset. Three of her crew on shore, were holding the legs of young Carrington up to let the water run out,--and I too late to save the brightest youngster we had in the ship.

I detained the assistant-surgeon and sent the heavy boats up for water. Five of the cutter’s crew were missing, and as the current naturally set to the southward, the doctor accompanied me along the beach in search of the missing bodies.

[Sidenote: March 26, 27.]

By noon I had received a sunstroke, and was down in an empty hut near the beach. The raised surf prevented our being visible from the ship, but fruit and fresh water were obtained; and by sunset I recovered. In the morning I was able to join boats as they returned on board.

[Sidenote: Mar. 28.]

Sailed.

[Sidenote: April 9.]

Arrived at Havana. I found the miscalculation of leave at Tampico prevented my being able to select cigars, but kind shipmates got me the best for friends at home.

[Sidenote: April 11.]

Sailed for England.

[Sidenote: May 6.]

Arrived at Spithead. Found some amusement in smuggling my good tobacco on shore, and still more in delivering it to old friends, some of which contraband found its way to Kensington Palace!

[Sidenote: May 16.]

Once at home, I did not find much difficulty in being placed on half-pay.

However I soon heard of a ship fitting out at Woolwich that I much fancied: a razéed frigate, the _Magicienne_.

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