Part 5
Even this inadequate tuition was abruptly ended by my father taking me with him to London. His object in visiting the metropolis was to induce the Government to make use of coal-tar for protecting the bottoms of inferior ships of war—for in those days copper sheathing was unknown. The best substitute—by no means a general one—was to drive large-headed iron nails over the whole ship’s bottom, which had thus the appearance of being “hobnailed.” Even this indifferent covering was accorded to superior vessels only, the smaller class being entirely left to the ravages of the worm. It was for the protection of these small vessels that my father hoped to get his application adopted, and there is no doubt of the benefit which would have resulted had the experiment been permitted.
But this was an innovation, and the Board of Admiralty being then, as too often since, opposed to everything inconsistent with ancient routine, refused to entertain his proposal. It was only by means of political influence that he at length induced the Navy Board to permit him, at his own expense, to cover with his composition one side of the buoy at the Nore. The result was satisfactory, but he was not allowed to repeat the process. As compared with the exposure at that time of ships’ bottoms to rapid destruction, without any effort to protect them, my father’s plan was even a greater improvement than is the modern substitution of copper-sheathing for the “hobnail” surface which it tardily superseded.
Failing to induce the Government to protect their ships of war, he applied to the mercantile interest, but with no better success. I remember going with my father to Limehouse, in the hope of inducing a large shipbuilder there to patronise his composition; but the shipbuilder had even a greater horror of innovation than the Admiralty authorities. His reply was remarkable. “My Lord,” said he, “we live by repairing ships as well as by building them, and the worm is our best friend. Rather than use your preparation, I would cover ships’ bottoms with honey to attract worms!”
Foiled in London, my father set on foot agencies at the outports, in the hope of inducing provincial shipbuilders to adopt his preservative. Prejudice, however, was not confined to the metropolis, and the objection of the Limehouse man was everywhere encountered. Neither they, nor any artisans in wood, would patronise a plan to render their work durable.
Unsuccessful everywhere, my father turned his attention to myself. My destination was originally the army, whether accordant with my taste or not—for he was not one of those who considered it necessary to consult the inclinations of his children in the choice of a profession; but rather how he could best bring family influence to bear upon their future interests. Unfortunately for his passive obedience theory, my _penchant_ was for the sea; any hint, however, to this effect was peremptorily silenced by parental authority, against which it was useless to contend.
My uncle, the Hon. Captain, afterwards Admiral, Sir Alexander Cochrane, had the sagacity to perceive, that as inclination became more rooted with my growth, passive obedience on this point might one day come to an end. Still further, he was kind enough to provide against such contingency, should it arise. Unknown to my father, he had entered my name on the books of various vessels under his command; so that, nominally, I had formed part of the complement of the _Vesuvius_, _Carolina_, _La Sophie_, and _Hind_; the object—common in those days—being, to give me a few years’ standing in the service, should it become my profession in reality.
Having, however, a relative in the army, who possessed influence at the Horse Guards, a military commission was also procured for me; so that I had simultaneously the honour of being an officer in his Majesty’s 104th Regiment, and a nominal seaman on board my uncle’s ship.
By way of initiation into the mysteries of the military profession, I was placed under the tuition of an old sergeant, whose first lessons well accorded with his instructions, not to pay attention to my foibles. My hair, cherished with boyish pride, was formally cut, and plastered back with a vile composition of candle-grease and flour, to which was added the torture incident to the cultivation of an incipient _queue_. My neck, from childhood open to the lowland breeze, was encased in an inflexible leathern collar or stock, selected according to my preceptor’s notions of military propriety; these almost verging on strangulation. A blue semi-military tunic, with red collar and cuffs, in imitation of the Windsor uniform, was provided, and to complete the _tout ensemble_, my father, who was a determined Whig partisan, insisted on my wearing yellow waistcoat and breeches; yellow being the Whig colour, of which I was admonished never to be ashamed. A more certain mode of calling into action the dormant obstinacy of a sensitive, high-spirited lad, could not have been devised than that of converting him into a caricature, hateful to himself, and ridiculous to others.
As may be imagined, my costume was calculated to attract attention, the more so from being accompanied by a stature beyond my years. Passing one day near the Duke of Northumberland’s palace at Charing-Cross, I was beset by a troop of ragged boys, evidently bent on amusing themselves at the expense of my personal appearance, and, in their peculiar slang, indulging in comments thereon far more critical than complimentary.
Stung to the quick, I made my escape from them, and rushing home, begged my father to let me go to sea with my uncle, in order to save me from the degradation of floured head, pigtail, and yellow breeches. This burst of despair aroused the indignation of the parent and the Whig, and the reply was a sound cuffing. Remonstrance was useless; but my dislike to everything military became confirmed; and the events of that day certainly cost His Majesty’s 104th Regiment an officer, notwithstanding that my military training proceeded with redoubled severity.
At this juncture, my father’s circumstances became somewhat improved by a second marriage[22], so that my brother Basil and myself were sent to Mr. Chauvet’s academy in Kensington Square, in order to perfect our military education—Basil, like myself, being destined for the army. At this excellent school we only remained six months; for with slightly increased resources my father resumed his ruinous manufacturing pursuits, so that we were compelled by the “_res angusta domi_” to return to Scotland.[23]
-----
Footnote 22:
My father’s second countess was Mary, daughter of Samuel Raymond, Esq., and relict of the Rev. Mr. Mayne. This lady died, without issue, in December 1808.
Footnote 23:
Lord Dundonald about this time entered upon a series of experiments which, as usual, were productive of more benefit to his country than himself, viz. an improved mode of preparing hemp and flax for the manufacture of sailcloth. For this he subsequently took out a patent, and submitted his process, together with samples of the manufacture, to the Admiralty. So sensible was the Board of the advantages of the plan, that it was subsequently stipulated in every contract that hemp should be steeped and boiled in the way recommended in his lordship’s patent. Since that period, the use of sailcloth so manufactured has become general. Formerly, it was sold by weight, the worthless material of which it was composed being saturated with a composition of flour and whitening, so that the first shower of rain on a new sail completely white washed the decks. Of so flimsy a nature were the sails when this composition was washed out, that I have taken an observation of the sun through the foretopsail, and brought it to a horizon through the foresail.
-----
Four years and a half were now wasted without further attempt to secure for us any regular training. We had, however, during the short advantage enjoyed at Kensington, studied diligently, and were thus enabled to make some progress by self-tuition, our tutor’s acquirements extending only to teaching the rudiments to the younger branches of the family. Knowing that my future career depended on my own efforts, and more than ever determined not to take up my military commission, I worked assiduously at the meagre elements of knowledge within my reach, in the hope that by unremitting industry my father might be convinced that opposition to his views was no idle whim, but the result of conviction that I should not excel in an obnoxious profession.
Pleased with my progress, and finding my resolution in favour of the naval service unalterable, he at length consented that my commission should be cancelled, and that the renewed offer of my uncle to receive me on board his frigate should be accepted.
The difficulty was to equip me for sea, but it was obviated by the Earl of Hopetoun considerately advancing 100_l._ for the purpose. With this sum the requisite outfit was procured, and a few days placed me in a position to seek my fortune, with my father’s gold watch as a keepsake—the only patrimony I ever inherited.
The Dowager Countess of Dundonald, then meditating a journey to London, offered to take me with her. On our arrival in the metropolis, after what was at that time the formidable achievement of a tour through Wales, her ladyship went to reside with her brother, General James Stuart, in Grosvenor Street; but, anxious to become initiated in the mysteries of my profession, I preferred going on board the _Hind_ at Sheerness; joining that ship on the 27th of June 1793, at the mature age, for a midshipman, of seventeen years and a half.
CHAP. II.
CRUISE OF THE _HIND_.
A LIEUTENANT OF THE OLD SCHOOL.—HIS IDEAS ON SEA-CHESTS.—DOCKYARDS SIXTY YEARS AGO.—PRIZE-MONEY, THE LEADING MOTIVE OF SEAMEN.—VOYAGE TO NORWAY.—NORWEGIAN CUSTOMS.—A MIDSHIPMAN’S GRIEVANCES.—A PARROT TURNED BOATSWAIN.—INEFFECTIVE ARMAMENTS.—MEN BEFORE DOCKYARDS.—TRAINING OF OFFICERS.
My kind uncle, the Hon. John Cochrane, accompanied me on board the _Hind_ for the purpose of introducing me to my future superior officer, Lieutenant Larmour, or, as he was more familiarly known in the service, Jack Larmour—a specimen of the old British seaman, little calculated to inspire exalted ideas of the gentility of the naval profession, though presenting at a glance a personification of its efficiency. Jack was, in fact, one of a not very numerous class, whom, for their superior seamanship, the Admiralty was glad to promote from the forecastle to the quarter-deck, in order that they might mould into ship-shape the questionable materials supplied by parliamentary influence—even then paramount in the Navy to a degree which might otherwise have led to disaster. Lucky was the commander who could secure such an officer for his quarter-deck.
On my introduction, Jack was dressed in the garb of a seaman, with marlinspike slung round his neck, and a lump of grease in his hand, and was busily employed in setting up the rigging. His reception of me was anything but gracious. Indeed, a tall fellow, over six feet high, the nephew of his captain, and a lord to boot, were not very promising recommendations for a midshipman. It is not impossible that he might have learned from my uncle something about a military commission of several years’ standing; and this, coupled with my age and stature, might easily have impressed him with the idea that he had caught a scapegrace with whom the family did not know what to do, and that he was hence to be saddled with a “hard bargain.”
After a little constrained civility on the part of the first lieutenant, who was evidently not very well pleased with the interruption to his avocation, he ordered me to “get my traps below.” Scarcely was the order complied with, and myself introduced to the midshipman’s berth, than I overheard Jack grumbling at the magnitude of my equipments. “This Lord Cochrane’s chest? Does Lord Cochrane think he is going to bring a cabin aboard? The service is going to the devil! Get it up on the main-deck.”
The order being promptly obeyed, amidst a running fire of similar objurgations, the key of the chest was sent for, and shortly afterwards the sound of sawing became audible. It was now high time to follow my property, which, to my astonishment, had been turned out on the deck—Jack superintending the process of sawing off one end of the chest just beyond the keyhole, and accompanying the operation by sundry uncomplimentary observations on midshipmen in general, and on myself in particular.
The metamorphose being completed to the lieutenant’s satisfaction, though not at all to mine, for my neat chest had become an unshapely piece of lumber, he pointed out the “lubberliness of shore-going people in not making keyholes where they could be most easily got at,” viz. at the end of a chest instead of the middle! The observation was, perhaps, made to test my temper, but, if so, it failed in its object. I thanked him for his kindness in imparting so useful a lesson, and left him evidently puzzled as to whether I was a cool hand or a simple one.
Poor Jack! his limited acquaintance with the world—which, in his estimation, was bounded by the taffrail and the bowsprit—rendered him an indifferent judge of character, or he might have seen in me nothing but an ardent desire diligently to apply myself to my chosen profession—with no more pride in my heart than money in my pocket. A short time, however, developed this. Finding me anxious to learn my duty, Jack warmly took me by the hand, and as his only ideas of relaxation were to throw off the lieutenant and resume the functions of the able seaman, my improvement speedily rewarded my kind though rough teacher, by converting into a useful adjunct one whom he had, perhaps not unjustifiably, regarded as a nuisance. We soon became fast friends, and throughout life few more kindly recollections are impressed on my memory than those of my first naval instructor, honest Jack Larmour.
Another good friend in need was Lieutenant Murray, a son of Lord Dunmore, who observing that my kit had been selected rather with a regard to economy than fitness, kindly lent me a sum of money to remedy the deficiency.
The period at which I joined the service was that during which events consequent on the first French revolution reached a crisis, inaugurating the series of wars which for twenty years afterwards devastated Europe. Whatever might have been the faults of the British Government in those days, that of being unprepared for the movements of revolutionary neighbours was not amongst them, for the energy of the Government kept pace with the patriotism of the nation. That fearful system of naval jobbery, which unhappily characterised the subsequent progress of the war, crowding the seas with worthless vessels, purchased into the service in exchange for borough influence—had not as yet begun to thwart the unity of purpose and action by which the whole realm was at first roused into action.
With few of those costly appliances in the dockyards which at the present day absorb vast sums voted by the nation for the support of the navy, to the exclusion of its real strength—_trained men_—the naval ports presented a scene of activity in every way commensurate with the occasion by which it had been called into existence. Their streets abounded with seamen eager to share in anticipated prize-money—for whatever may be the ideas of modern statesmen on this subject, prize-money formed then, as it will ever form, the principal motive of seamen to encounter the perils of war.
On this point there is, at the present day, a tendency to dangerous doctrine; and a word respecting it will not be out of place. I have seen it openly proclaimed that seamen will fight for fighting’s sake, and without expectation of reward. If the propounders of such an opinion were to ask themselves the question, whether they engage in professional or commercial pursuits from pure patriotism, and without hope of further remuneration, their own reply would show them the fallacy of ascribing to seamen a want of those motives which impel all men to adventure and exertion. Human nature is the same in all its grades, and will remain so, despite romantic notions of its disinterestedness and patriotism. The result of my own experience is, that seamen fight from two leading motives: 1st. Prize-money; 2nd. From a well-grounded belief in their own physical and disciplinary superiority, which refuses to be beaten, and is not satisfied with less than conquest. Take away the first motive, and we may find difficulty, on an emergency, in getting men to accomplish the second.
The bounty system, which has superseded the press-gang, is a direct proof of money being admitted as the seaman’s inciting motive to engage in war. The press-gang itself was a no less decisive proof, for it rarely had to be resorted to, except in case of unpopular officers, inefficient vessels, or out-of-the-way stations, where the chances of prize-money were few. For ships commanded by well-known officers, and with a favourable chance of making prizes, the press-gang was unnecessary. This circumstance forms no indifferent comment on the real motives which induce seamen voluntarily to enter the service. On this most important subject more will be said hereafter.
To return to our cruise. The destination of the _Hind_ was the coast of Norway, to the _fiords_ of which country the Government had reason to suspect that French privateers might resort, as lurking-places whence to annoy our North Sea and Baltic commerce. To ascertain this was our primary object. The second was to look out for an enemy’s convoy, shortly expected from the West Indies by the northern route round the Orkneys.
We had not, however, the luck to fall in with either convoy or privateers, though for the latter every inlet was diligently searched. The voyage was, therefore, without incident, further than the gratifying experience of Norse hospitality and simplicity; qualities which, it is to be feared, may have vanished before the influence of modern rapidity of communication, without being replaced by others equally satisfactory.
To us youngsters, this Norwegian trip was a perpetual holiday, for my uncle, though a strict disciplinarian, omitted no opportunity of gratifying those under his command, so that we spent nearly as much time on shore as on board; whilst the few hours occupied in running along the coast from one inlet to another supplied us with a moving panorama, scarcely less to our taste than were the hospitalities on shore.
Our great amusement was sleighing at racing speed, to the musical jingling of bells, without a sound from the catlike fall of the horse’s feet on the snow. Other variations in the routine of pleasure, were shooting and fishing, though these soon became secondary objects, as the abundance of fish and game rendered their capture uninteresting.
But the principal charm was the primitive aspect of a people apparently sprung from the same stock as ourselves, and presenting much the same appearance as our ancestors may be supposed to have done a few centuries before, without any symptoms of that feudal attachment which then prevailed in Britain. I have never seen a people more contented and happy; not because their wants were few, for even luxuries were abundant, and in common use.
Much, however, cannot be said for Norwegian gallantry at that period. On one occasion my uncle took me to a formal dinner at the house of a magnate named Da Capa. The table literally groaned beneath the feast; but a great drawback to our enjoyment of the good things set before us, was that, during a five hours’ succession of dishes, the lady of the house stood at the head of the table, and performed the laborious duty of carver throughout the tedious repast. Her flushed countenance after the intervals between the various removes, moreover, warranted the suspicion that the very excellent cookery was the result of her supervision. It is to be hoped that the march of civilisation has altered this custom for the better.
It is possible that these remarks may be considered somewhat profound for a midshipman of three months’ standing; but it must be remembered that, from previous hard necessity, no less than maturity, they are those of a reflective midshipman. At any rate, the remarks were duly jotted down, and to this day their reperusal calls forth somewhat of the freshness of boyhood to a mind worn down, not so much with age as with unmerited injuries, which have embittered a long life, and rendered even the failings of age premature.
From boyish impressions to a midshipman’s grievances is but a step. At the first moment of my setting foot on board the _Hind_ it had been my determination never to commit an act worthy of punishment; but it was equally the determination of Jack Larmour to punish me for my resolution the first time he caught me tripping. This was certain, for Jack was open and above board, and declared that “he never heard of such a thing as a faultless midshipman!” For a long time he watched in vain, but nothing occurred more than to warrant his swearing twice as much at me as at any other of my messmates, Jack never troubling himself to swear at a waister. To use his own words, it “was expending wind for nothing.”
One day, when his back was turned, I had stolen off deck for a few minutes, but only to hear on my return the ominous words, “Mast-head, youngster!” There was no alternative but to obey. Certainly not cheerfully—for the day was bitterly cold, with the thermometer below zero. Once caught, I knew my punishment would be severe, as indeed it was, for my sojourn at the mast-head was protracted almost to the limit of human endurance, my tormentor being evidently engaged in calculating this to a nicety. He never mast-headed me again.
By way of return for the hospitality of the Norwegian people, the frigate was freely thrown open to their inspection. On one of their frequent visits, an incident occurred not unworthy of record.
On board most ships there is a pet animal of some kind. Ours was a parrot, which was Jack Larmour’s aversion, from the exactness with which the bird had learned to imitate the calls of the boatswain’s whistle. Sometimes the parrot would pipe an order so correctly as to throw the ship into momentary confusion, and the first lieutenant into a volley of imprecations, consigning Poll to a warmer latitude than his native tropical forests. Indeed, it was only by my uncle’s countenance that the bird was tolerated.
One day a party of ladies paid us a visit aboard, and several had been hoisted on deck by the usual means of a “whip” on the mainyard. The chair had descended for another “whip,” but scarcely had its fair freight been lifted out of the boat alongside, than the unlucky parrot piped “_Let go!_” The order being instantly obeyed, the unfortunate lady, instead of being comfortably seated on deck, as had been those who preceded her, was soused overhead in the sea! Luckily for Poll, Jack Larmour was on shore at the time, or this unseasonable assumption of the boatswain’s functions might have ended tragically.