Фредерик Марриет
Peter Simple
Chapter Fifty Seven
News from home not very agreeable, although the reader may laugh—We arrive at Portsmouth, where I fall in with my old acquaintance, Mrs Trotter—We sail with a convoy for the Baltic
I had written to my sister Ellen, giving her an account of all that had passed, and mentioning the character of the captain, and his apparent intimacy with my uncle. I received an answer from her, telling me that she had discovered, from a very communicative old maiden lady, that Captain Hawkins was an illegitimate son of my uncle, by a lady with whom he had been acquainted, about the time that he was in the army. I immediately conceived the truth, that my uncle had pointed me out to him as an object of his vengeance, and that Captain Hawkins was too dutiful, and too dependent a son, not to obey him. The state of my father was more distressing than ever, but there was something very ludicrous in his fancies. He had fancied himself a jackass, and had brayed for a week, kicking the old nurse in the stomach, so as to double her up like a hedgehog. He had taken it into his head that he was a pump; and with one arm held out as a spout, he had obliged the poor old nurse to work the other up and down for hours together. In fact, there was a string of strange conceptions of this kind that had accumulated, so as to drive my poor sister almost mad: and sometimes his ideas would be attended with a very heavy expense, as he would send for architects, make contracts, etcetera, for building, supposing himself to have come to the title and property of his brother. This, being the basis of his disease, occurred frequently. I wrote to poor Ellen, giving her my best advice; and by this time the brig was again ready for sea, and we expected to sail immediately. I did not forget to write to O’Brien, but the distance between us was so great, that I knew I could not obtain his answer, probably, for a year, and I felt a melancholy foreboding, how much I required his advice.
Our orders were to proceed to Portsmouth, and join a convoy collected there, bound up the Baltic, under the charge of the Acasta frigate, and two other vessels. We did not sail with any pleasure, or hopes of gaining much in the way of prize-money. Our captain was enough to make any ship a hell; and our ship’s company were composed of a mutinous and incorrigible set of scoundrels, with, of course, a few exceptions. How different did the officers find the brig after losing such a captain as O’Brien, and so fine a ship’s company! But there was no help for it, and all we had to do was to make the best of it, and hope for better times. The cat was at work nearly every day, and I must acknowledge that, generally speaking, it was deserved; although sometimes a report from the sergeant of marines of any good man favoured by me, was certain to be attended to. This system of receiving reports direct from an inferior officer, instead of through me, as first lieutenant, became so annoying, that I resolved, at all risk to expostulate. I soon had an opportunity, for one morning the captain said to me, “Mr Simple, I understand that you had a fire in the galley last night after hours.”
“It’s very true, sir, that I did order a stove to be lighted; but may I inquire whether the first lieutenant has not a discretionary power in that point? and further, how is it that I am reported to you by other people? The discipline of this ship is carried on by me, under your directions, and all reports ought to come through me; and I cannot understand upon what grounds you permit them through any other channel.”
“I command my own ship, sir, and shall do as I please in that respect. When I have officers I can confide in, I shall, in all probability, allow them to report to me.”
“If there is anything in my conduct which has proved to you that I am incapable, or not trustworthy, I would feel obliged to you, sir, if you would, in the first place, point it out;—and, in the next, bring me to a court-martial if I do not correct it.”
“I am no court-martial man, sir,” replied he, “but I am not to be dictated to by an inferior officer, so you’ll oblige me by holding your tongue. The sergeant of marines, as master-at-arms, is bound to report to me any deviation from the regulations I have laid down for the discipline of the ship.”
“Granted, sir; but that report, according to the custom of the service, should come through the first lieutenant.”
“I prefer it coming direct, sir;—it stands less chance of being garbled.”
“Thank you, Captain Hawkins, for the compliment.”
The captain walked away without further reply, and shortly after went down below. Swinburne ranged up alongside of me as soon as the captain disappeared.
“Well, Mr Simple, so I hear we are bound to the Baltic. Why couldn’t they have ordered us to pick the convoy off Yarmouth, instead of coming all the way to Portsmouth? We shall be in to-morrow, with this slant of wind.”
“I suppose the convoy are not yet collected, Swinburne; and you recollect, there’s no want of French privateers in the Channel.”
“Very true, sir.”
“When were you up the Baltic, Swinburne?”
“I was in the old St. George, a regular old ninety-eight; she sailed just like a hay-stack, one mile ahead and three to leeward. Lord bless you, Mr Simple, the Cattegat wasn’t wide enough for her; but she was a comfortable sort of vessel after all, excepting on a lee shore, so we used always to give the land a wide berth, I recollect. By-the-bye, Mr Simple, do you recollect how angry you were because I didn’t peach at Barbadoes, when the man sucked the monkey?”
“To be sure I do.”
“Well, then, I didn’t think it fair then, as I was one of them. But now that I’m a bit of an officer, I’ll just tell you that when we get to Carlscrona, there’s a method of sucking the monkey there, which, as first lieutenant, with such a queer sort of captain, it is just as well that you should be up to. In the old St. George we had seventy men drunk one afternoon, and the first lieutenant couldn’t find it out nohow.”
“Indeed, Swinburne, you must let me into that secret.”
“So I will, Mr Simple. Don’t you know there’s a famous stuff for cuts and wounds, called balsam?”
“What, Riga balsam?”
“Yes, that’s it; well, all the boats will bring that for sale, as they did to us in the old St. George. Devilish good stuff it is for wounds, I believe; but it’s not bad to drink, and it’s very strong. We used to take it inwardly, Mr Simple, and the first lieutenant never guessed it.”
“What! you all got tipsy upon Riga balsam?”
“All that could; so I just give you a hint.”
“I’m much obliged to you, Swinburne; I certainly never should have suspected it. I believe seamen would get drunk upon anything.”
The next morning we anchored at Spithead, and found the convoy ready for sea. The captain went on shore to report himself to the admiral, and, as usual, the brig was surrounded with bum-boats and wherries, with people who wished to come on board. As we were not known on the Portsmouth station, and had no acquaintance with the people, all the bum-boats were very anxious to supply the ship; and as this is at the option of the first lieutenant, he is very much persecuted until he has made his decision. Certificates of good conduct from other officers were handed up the side from all of them: and I looked over the books at the capstan. In the second book the name struck me; it was that of Mrs Trotter, and I walked to the gangway, out of curiosity, to ascertain whether it was the same personage who, when I was a youngster, had taken such care of my shirts. As I looked at the boats, a voice cried out, “Oh, Mr Simple, have you forgot your old friend? don’t you recollect Mrs Trotter?” I certainly did not recollect her; she had grown very fat, and, although more advanced in years, was a better looking woman than when I had first seen her, for she looked healthy and fresh.
“Indeed, I hardly did recollect you, Mrs Trotter.”
“I’ve so much to tell you, Mr Simple,” replied she, ordering the boat to pull alongside; and as she was coming up, desired the man to get the things in, as if permission was quite unnecessary. I did not counter-order it, as I knew none of the others, and, as far as honesty was concerned, believed them all to be much on a par. On the strength, then, of old acquaintance, Mrs Trotter was admitted.
“Well, I’m sure, Mr Simple,” cried Mrs Trotter, out of breath with climbing up the brig’s side; “what a man you’ve grown,—and such a handsome man, too! Dear, dear, it makes me feel quite old to look at you, when I call to mind the little boy whom I had charge of in the cockpit. Don’t you think I look very old and ugly, Mr Simple?” continued she, smiling and smirking.
“Indeed, Mrs Trotter, I think you wear very well. Pray how is your husband?”
“Ah, Mr Simple, poor dear Mr Trotter—he’s gone. Poor fellow, no what with his drinking, and his love for me—and his jealousy—(do you recollect how jealous he was, Mr Simple?)—he wore himself out at last. No wonder, considering what he had been accustomed to, after keeping his carriage and dogs with everybody, to be reduced to see his wife go a bumming. It broke his heart, poor fellow! and, Mr Simple, I’ve been much happier ever since, for I could not bear to see him fretting. Lord, how jealous he was—and all about nothing! Don’t you want some fresh meat for the gun-room? I’ve a nice leg of mutton in the boat, and some milk for tea.”
“Recollect, Mrs Trotter, I shall not overlook your bringing spirits on board.”
“Lord, Mr Simple, how could you think of such a thing? It’s very true that these very common people do it, but the company I have kept, the society I have been in, Mr Simple! Besides, you must recollect, that I never drank anything but water.”
I could not exactly coincide with her, but I did not contradict her.
“Would you like the Portsmouth paper, Mr Simple?” taking one out of her pocket; “I know gentlemen are fond of the news. Poor Trotter used never to stir from the breakfast-table until he had finished the daily paper—but that was when we lived in very different style. Have you any clothes to wash, Mr Simple,—or have any of the gentlemen?”
“I fear we have no time, we sail too soon,” replied I; “we go with the convoy.”
“Indeed!” cried Mrs Trotter, who walked to the main hatchway and called to her man Bill. I heard her give him directions to sell nothing upon trust in consequence of the intelligence of our immediate sailing.
“I beg your pardon, Mr Simple, I was only desiring my head man to send for your steward, that he might be supplied with the best, and to save some milk for the gun-room.”
“And I must beg your pardon, Mrs Trotter, for I must attend to my duty.” Mrs Trotter made her curtsy and walked down the main ladder to attend to her duty, and we separated. I was informed she had a great deal of custom, as she understood how to manage the officers, and made herself generally useful to them. She had been a bumboat woman for six years, and had made a great deal of money. Indeed, it was reported, that if a first lieutenant wanted forty or fifty pounds, Mrs Trotter would always lend it to him, without requiring his promissory note.
The captain came on board in the evening, having dined with the admiral, and left directions for having all ready for unmooring and heaving short at daylight. The signal was made from the frigate at sunrise, and before twelve o’clock we were all under weigh, and running past St. Helen’s with a favourable wind. Our force consisted of the Acasta frigate, the Isis ship, sloop, mounting twenty guns, the Reindeer, eighteen, and our own brig. The convoy amounted to nearly two hundred. Although the wind was fair, and the water smooth, we were more than a week before we made Anholt light, owing to the bad sailing and inattention of many of the vessels belonging to the convoy. We were constantly employed repeating signals, firing guns, and often sent back to tow up the sternmost vessels. At last we passed the Anholt light, with a light breeze; and the next morning, the mainland was to be distinguished on both bows.
Chapter Fifty Eight
How we passed the Sound, and what passed in the Sound—the captain overhears again a conversation between Swinburne and me
I was on the signal chest abaft, counting the convoy, when Swinburne came up to me.
“Have you been here before, with a convoy, Swinburne?”
“To be sure I have; and it’s sharp work that I’ve seen here, Mr Simple. Work, that I’ve an idea our captain won’t have much stomach for.”
“Swinburne, I beg you will keep your thoughts relative to the captain to yourself; recollect the last time. It is my duty not to listen to them.”
“And I should rather think, to report them also, Mr Simple,” said Captain Hawkins, who had crept up to us, and overheard our conversation.
“In this instance there is no occasion for my reporting them, sir,” replied I, “for you have heard what has passed.”
“I have, sir,” replied he; “and I shall not forget the conversation.”
I turned forward. Swinburne had made his retreat the moment that he heard the voice of the captain. “How many sails are there in sight, sir?” inquired the captain.
“One hundred and sixty-three, sir,” replied I.
“Signal to convoy to close from the Acasta,” reported the midshipman of the watch.
We repeated it, and the captain descended to his cabin. We were then running about four miles an hour, the water very smooth, and Anholt lighthouse hardly visible on deck, bearing N.N.W. about twenty miles. In fact, we were near the entrance of the Sound, which, the reader may be aware, is a narrow passage leading into the Baltic Sea.
My watch was nearly out, when the midshipman who was looking round with his glass on the Copenhagen side, reported three gun-boats, sweeping out from behind a point. I examined them, and went down to report them to the captain. When I came on deck, more were reported, until we counted ten, two of them large vessels, called praams. The captain now came on deck, and I reported them. We made the signal of enemy in sight, to the Acasta, which was answered. They divided—six of them pulling along shore towards the convoy in the rear, and four coming out right for the brig. The Acasta now made the signal for “Boats manned and armed to be held in readiness.” We hoisted out our pinnace, and lowered down our cutters—the other men-of-war doing the same. In about a quarter of an hour, the gun-boats opened their fire with their long thirty-two pounders, and their first shot went right through the hull of the brig, just abaft the fore-bits; fortunately, no one was hurt. I turned round to look at the captain; he was as white as a sheet. He caught my eye, and turned aft, when he was met by Swinburne’s eye, steadily fixed upon him. He then walked to the other side of the deck. Another shot ploughed up the water close to us, rose, and came through the hammock-netting, tearing out two of the hammocks, and throwing them on the quarter-deck, when the Acasta hoisted out pennants, and made the signal to send our pinnace and cutter to the assistance of vessels astern. The signal was also made to the Isis and Reindeer. I reported the signal, and inquired who was to take the command.
“You, Mr Simple, will take the pinnace, and order Mr Swinburne into the cutter.”
“Mr Swinburne, sir!” replied I; “the brig will, in all probability, be in action soon, and his services as a gunner will be required.”
“Well, then, Mr Hilton may go. Beat to quarters. Where is Mr Webster?” The second lieutenant was close to us, and he was ordered to take the duty during my absence.
I jumped into the pinnace, and shoved off; ten other boats from the Acasta and the other men-of-war were pulling in the same direction, and I joined them. The gun-boats had now opened fire upon the convoy astern, and were sweeping out to capture them, dividing themselves into two parties, and pulling towards different portions of the convoy. In half-an-hour we were within gun-shot of the nearest, which directed its fire at us; but the lieutenant of the Acasta, who commanded the detachment, ordered us to lie on our oars for a minute, while he divided his force in three divisions, of four boats each, with instructions that we should each oppose a division of two gun-boats.
This was well arranged. I had the command of one division, for the first lieutenants had not been sent away from the Isis and Reindeer, and having inquired which of the divisions of gun-boats I was to oppose, I pulled for them. In the meantime, we observed that the two praams, and two gun-boats, which had remained behind us, and had been firing at the Racehorse, had also divided—one praam attacking the Acasta, the two gun-boats playing upon the Isis, and the other praam engaging the Rattlesnake and Reindeer; the latter vessel being in a line with us, and about half a mile farther out, so that she could not return any effectual fire, or, indeed, receive much damage.
One of the praams mounted ten guns, and the other eight. The last was opposed to the Rattlesnake, and the fire was kept up very smartly, particularly by the Acasta and the enemy. In about a quarter of an hour I arrived with my division close to the vessel which was the nearest to the enemy. It was a large Sunderland-built ship. The gun-boats, which were within a quarter of a mile of her, sweeping to her as fast as they could, as soon as they perceived our approach, directed their fire upon us, but without success, except the last discharge, in which, we being near enough, they had loaded with grape. The shot fell a little short, but one piece of grape struck one of the bowmen of the pinnace, taking off three fingers of his right hand as he was pulling his oar. Before they could fire again, we were sheltered by the vessel, pulling close to her side, hid from the enemy.
This continued for some time, the enemy not advancing nearer, but now firing into the Sunderland-ship, which protected us. At last the master of the ship looked over the side, and said to me, “I say, my joker, do you call this giving me assistance? I think I was better off before you came. Then I had only my share of the enemy’s fire, but now that you have come, I have it all. I’m riddled like a sieve, and have lost four men already. Suppose you give me a spell now—pull behind the vessel ahead of us. I’ll take my chance.”
I pulled up to the other vessel, a large brig, and the captain, as soon as we came alongside, said, “I see what you’re about, and I’ll just leave you my vessel to take care of. No use losing my men, or being knocked on the head.”
“All’s right—you can’t do better, and we can’t do better either.”
His boat was lowered down, and getting in with his men, he pulled to another vessel, and lay behind it, all ready to pull back if a breeze sprang up.
As was to be expected, the gun-boats shifted their fire to the deserted vessel, which the boats lay behind, and thus did the action in our quarter continue until it was dark; the gun-boats not choosing to advance, and was restricted from pulling out to attack them.
But I soon perceived that the gun-boats were nearing us every time that they fired, and I now discharged grape alone, waiting for the flash of the fire to ascertain their direction. At last I could perceive their long low hulls, not two cables’ lengths from us, and their sweeps lifting from the water. It was plain that they were advancing to board, and I resolved to anticipate them if possible. I had fired ahead of the brig, and I now pulled with all my boats astern, giving my orders to the officers, and laying on our oars in readiness. The gun-boats were about half a cable’s length from each other, pulling up abreast, and passing us at about the same distance, when I directed the men to give way. I had determined to throw all my force upon the nearest boat, and in half a minute our bows were forced between their sweeps, which we caught hold of to force our way alongside.
The resistance of the Danes was very determined. Three times did I obtain a footing on the deck, and three times was I thrown back into the boats. At last we had fairly obtained our ground, and were driving them gradually forward, when, as I ran on the gunwale to obtain a position more in advance of my men, I received a blow with the butt end of a musket, I believe on the shoulder, which knocked me overboard, and I fell between the sweeps, and sank under the vessel’s bottom. I rose under the stern; but I was so shook with the violence of the blow, that I was for some time confused; still I had strength to keep myself above water, and paddled, as it appeared, away from the vessel, until I hit against a sweep which had fallen overboard. This supported me, and I gradually recovered myself.
A light breeze rippled the water, and I knew that I had no time to lose. In about five minutes I heard the sound of oars, and perceived a boat crossing me. I hailed as loud as I could—they heard me; laid on their oars—and I hailed again—they pulled to me, and took me in. It was the master of the brig, who, aware of the capture of one gun-boat, and the retreat of the other, was looking for his vessel; or, as he told me, for what was left of her. In a short time we found her, and, although very much cut up, she had received no shot under water.
Here I may as well relate the events of the action. One of the other divisions of gun-boats had retreated when attacked by the boats. The other had beaten off the boats, and killed many of the men, but had suffered so much themselves, as to retreat without making any capture. The Acasta lost four men killed, and seven wounded; the Isis, three men wounded; the Reindeer had nobody hurt; the Rattlesnake had six men killed, and two wounded, including the captain; but of that I shall speak hereafter. I found that I was by no means seriously hurt by the blow I had received: my shoulder was stiff for a week, and very much discoloured, but nothing more. When I fell overboard I had struck against a sweep, which had cut my ear half off. The captain of the brig gave me dry clothes, and in a few hours I was very comfortably asleep, hoping to join my ship the next day; but in this I was disappointed. The breeze was favourable and fresh; but we were clear of the Sound, but a long way astern of the convoy, and none of the headmost men-of-war to be seen. I dressed and went on deck, and immediately perceived that I had little chance of joining my ship until we arrived at Carlscrona, which proved to be the case. About ten o’clock, the wind died away, and we had from that time such baffling light winds, that it was six days before we dropped our anchor, every vessel of the convoy having arrived before us.
