CHAPTER VIII

THE _MAGICIENNE_

[Sidenote: 1831. July.]

The Channel Squadron was not a station for a poor man. Stephenson managed my removal through his friend Rear-Admiral the Hon. George Dundas, still at the Admiralty. I had frequently noticed this gallant Admiral on horseback, dressed in a blue coat with brass buttons, yellow leather breeches and mahogany top-boots, wending his way to office.

Sir James Graham had the Admiralty and Sir Thomas Hardy was First Sea Lord. These distinguished men I came to know better afterwards.

I had no misunderstanding with Captain Napier, and was sorry to part with his daughter Fanny, as well as a charming family Mrs. Napier had by a former marriage, who likewise took the name of Napier.

_Magicienne_, 24, was commissioned by Captain J. H. Plumridge, who had the credit of being a taut hand. She had been a frigate of 42 guns, was razéed without reduction of spars, thereby adding ten feet more drop to her courses and a longer run to her fore and main clew garnets.

We were three Lieutenants--Thomas Owen Knox, Fred Hutton, and self. First Lieutenant keeping no night-watch, Tyndal, a mate, was my relief.

[Sidenote: August.]

Being near the headquarters of our East India Company’s marine, we had difficulty in getting seamen. Two petty officers and a supply of Union Jacks were sent with me on a sort of roving commission. With expenses paid, I rather liked this service, and started for Portsmouth, where I exhibited one of the flags at the Bedford in Chase, on the Hard, Portsea. Later another was planted at Plymouth.

It was work not to be done in a day, as when a batch exceeded twenty it was necessary to take them to the ship at Woolwich. However, I was tolerably successful, and in the end got a letter of approval from my Captain.

Tom Knox had a brother in the Scots Fusilier Guards. Each battalion had its six or eight oared row-gigs, in which it was great fun for the ladies to go down with the ebb-tide, dine off whitebait at Greenwich, and return to town in cabriolets. The excitement in going was shooting London Bridge. When the tide was out there might be a drop of four or five feet, which required good way on the boat. Many ladies preferred landing and re-embarking below.

It was now that my turn came. The little innocents were under a delusion that if a sailor steered there could be no danger; and I, equally ignorant, and seated between them, with pleasure undertook the job. However, no accident happened during my time.

[Sidenote: Sept. 8.]

We celebrated the coronation of William IV. Although we had no guns, there were plenty in Woolwich to salute, and all hands got extra grog and, in the dockyard, a holiday.

Among the Captain’s numerous visitors whose society I enjoyed, was Theodore Hook, in whose company no one could have been without finding he was a remarkable man. His wit was ready and acute.

[Sidenote: Sept. 22.]

His Majesty, accompanied by Queen Adelaide, came to see the launch of the _Thunderer_, 84. We were in a more fit state to be seen; although in dock, we had royal yards across, and the band of the Fusilier Guards on board.

Our Sailor King was in a playful humour, and observing from the dockyard that the officers had a ladies’ party in the gunroom to lunch, and the skylight off, made a sign not to be noticed. He dropped the point of his sword on to the mess-table, holding the knot, to the astonishment of the ladies and amusement of all. His Majesty wore the uniform of Lord High Admiral, and was the last holder of that office.

[Sidenote: Nov. 2.]

We sailed from the Basin, came to off Purfleet, and took in powder.

Sailed next day, and came to at the Little Nore, saluting the flag of Admiral Sir John de la Poer Beresford.

[Sidenote: Nov. 6.]

Came to in the downs; saluted the flag of Rear-Admiral Warren.

[Sidenote: Nov. 10.]

Sailed. Anchored at Spithead, saluting flag of Admiral Sir Thomas Foley.

[Sidenote: Nov. 17.]

Sailed by St. Helens; anchored in Torbay, where we remained three more days for the last farewell letters, Captain being engaged to be married.

We had the usual sea-voyage, with its porpoises, dolphins, and flying-fish leaving their train of phosphoric light through the water at night, especially when the wind had any southing in it. Otherwise I thought myself too old a mariner to feel any interest.

[Sidenote: Dec. 2.]

The Captain detained the _Neptune_, an American brig, to put more letters on board, an opportunity we availed ourselves of.

[Sidenote: Dec. 14.]

On board a man-of-war every officer, to the youngest mid, has to send a copy of his reckoning to the cabin--a good plan as it enables the Captain to compare and detect errors. These small reckonings were called “day’s works,” due at 1 P.M. Shortly after 2 P.M. officers were ordered to assemble in the Captain’s cabin. We stood before the table, small fry in front.

Our chief, with his left hand full of day’s works, addressed himself to me, the most nervous and frightened of the assembled lot:

“Mr. Keppel, how is it that your day’s work, unlike the others, always agrees to a second with that of the masters?”

I, being unprepared, suggested that perhaps I was the only one who took a _correct_ copy.

There was a small titter, which was growing into a laugh, when we were ordered to quit the cabin.

[Sidenote: Dec. 18.]

Sunday, 1 A.M.--It was my middle watch, when smoke was reported as issuing from under the hatch of the gunner’s storeroom. As the keys of that and other storerooms had been returned at sunset to the First Lieutenant’s cabin, and the fore magazine passage opened into said storeroom, while rushing down, I called out to beat to quarters, put ship before the wind, and reported to the Captain.

Ship’s company was in order, men promptly in their station, lower sails clewed up, and water-cocks turned on. On removing the fore hatch, flames rushed up, met by a deluge of water. The fore sail-room was on fire: spare topsail however was ablaze, but extinguished before it reached the quarter-deck.

The fire, by great exertions, was got under; though we had a narrow escape. Woodwork forming bulkhead of the magazine was burnt through the copper lining. At 3.45 A.M. the watch was called.

[Sidenote: Dec. 23.]

With the exception of a good day’s target practice, nothing particular occurred till the end of the year, when we arrived at Rio, and I once more beheld the most beautiful harbour in the world.

[Sidenote: 1832. Jan. 1.]

We found _Warspite_, 76, bearing the flag of Rear-Admiral Sir Thomas Baker, commanded by Captain Charles Talbot; _Dublin_, 56, Lord James Townshend; _Pylades_, 18, Commander Edward Blanckley. Saluted flag of the Rear-Admiral with 11 guns, the Brazilian flag with 21.

While we were here the young Prince, who was born when I was at Rio, Christmas, 1824, held a levee, which I, with the Captain, attended.

[Sidenote: Jan. 5.]

Weighed at daylight, and ran out of Rio Harbour with the land-breeze. We soon got into the trade winds. Communicated with a whaler off Tristan d’Achuna.

Captain not caring to call at the Cape, we kept to the southward, and held our breeze the longer.

[Sidenote: Jan. 30.]

In 41° 30′ we had a run of 258 miles, which we thought something of. However, we were soon under close-reefed main topsail and reefed foresail, and lost a poor fellow overboard, who was putting in a deadlight.

[Sidenote: Feb. 13.]

Made St. Paul’s Island, which most ships like to do, to ensure their reckoning.

[Sidenote: Feb. 17.]

Observed a ship on the horizon with sails furled. She proved to be an East Indiaman, the _Marquis of Huntley_, having carried away her rudder. We sent assistance and supplied bar iron and spike-nails. Remained by until she was safe to proceed. A seaman named Leaves fell from aloft, but, having struck the quarter-davit, we could not recover the body.

[Sidenote: March 8.]

I now come to an event in my life which I would fain leave out, but having promised to tell the “truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” must go on.

We were off Ceylon, hoping to reach Trincomalee the following day. Mine was the second dog-watch, which had come to an end, and a squall was brewing. Tyndal, although the son of a Judge, was not a smart relief. It was near one bell before he came up, and the squall came down. I appeared in the gunroom as if I had been overboard, seated myself at the table, and called for grog.

Now, Hutton, who for his cheery disposition was named “Dirk Hatterick,” came behind, and as I was about to console my shivering timbers, my chair tilted backwards, the contents of the glass caught Dirk in the tender part of his eyes. He rushed in pain to his cabin, while I consoled myself with a second edition. Here the affair might and ought to have ended, but for my folly.

The following day, while seated with Knox at the gunroom table, Hutton on deck looking out for a meridian altitude, Knox asked Hutton up the skylight the latitude, which was given.

I remarked, “You can’t go by Dirk’s reckoning.” To which Hutton retorted: “Mr. Keppel, I want none of your remarks.” I was up on the instant, and told him that if he had thrown grog in _my_ eyes he would have heard of it by this time.

Now, there were two Irishmen on the station about my age, the very boys to arrange matters. They had both been at the Naval College with me. One, Lloyd, belonged to the ship.

[Sidenote: Mar. 10.]

Arrived Trincomalee. Found, as I expected, _Crocodile_, 28, Captain J. W. Montague.

O’Brien soon visited me. I already had a visit from Lloyd, sent by Hutton: demanding “Apology or satisfaction.” O’Brien knew exactly how the ropes led on shore. These affairs do not require talk. “Half an hour before sunset, outside the fortifications.” Officers of garrison had gone to dress for dinner. Everything quiet. Duelling pistols were heavy, ugly things: single barrels, a foot long. But in those days the refinement of detonating caps, instead of flint and steel, had been introduced.

O’Brien had obtained a surgeon and the necessary instruments. Our friends seemed to understand their business. Ground of twelve paces measured. Lloyd was to drop a white handkerchief. As I had been the aggressor, I did not wish to draw blood, but held straight enough to make my opponent believe I meant business.

As the handkerchief dropped, Hutton fired low and sprinkled me with gravel. Our seconds, unlike Irishmen, held counsel, and said honour was satisfied. _I_ know I thought so; but Hutton declared for “Apology or blood.”

On retaking our places, I began to think that I would rather bleed Dirk than die myself. When the handkerchief fell I thought I had spotted him. His pistol missed fire. My ball went through the thick part of his cap, and I was saved a life’s misery. Seconds declined to load again, and recommended the necessary shaking of hands. Hutton stated that I should go to him. I refused to go more than halfway way, which the seconds decided was just, and so ended the affair.

O’Brien, thinking I might be able to eat a small supper, provided that pleasant meal at the quarters of his friend Holyoake, 78th Highlanders. I said my prayers more earnestly that night.

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