Peter Simple

“With great pleasure,” replied the first lieutenant, who perceived that he had gone far enough.

“Well, gentlemen,” said the captain, “we shall soon be in the land of plenty. I shall cruise a fortnight more, and then join the admiral at Jamaica. We must make out our despatch relative to the cutting out of the Sylvia” (that was the name of the privateer brig), “and I am happy to say that I shall feel it my duty to make honourable mention of all the party present. Steward, coffee.”

The first lieutenant, O’Brien, and I, bowed to this flattering avowal on the part of the captain; as for myself, I felt delighted. The idea of my name being mentioned in the Gazette, and the pleasure that it would give to my father and mother, mantled the blood in my cheeks till I was as red as a turkey-cock.

“Cousin Simple,” said the captain, good-naturedly, “you have no occasion to blush; your conduct deserves it; and you are indebted to Mr Phillott for having made me acquainted with your gallantry.”

Coffee was soon over, and I was glad to leave the cabin and be alone, that I might compose my perturbed mind. I felt too happy. I did not however, say a word to my messmates, as it might have created feelings of envy or ill-will. O’Brien gave me a caution not to do so, when I met him afterwards, so that I was very glad that I had been so circumspect.

Chapter Thirty Five

Swinburne continues his narrative of the battle off Cape St. Vincent

The second night after this, we had the middle watch, and I claimed Swinburne’s promise that he would spin his yarn, relative to the battle of St. Vincent. “Well, Mr Simple, so I will; but I require a little priming, or I shall never go off.”

“Will you have your glass of grog before or after?”

“Before, by all means, if you please, sir. Run down and get it, and I’ll heave the log for you in the meantime, when we shall have a good hour without interruption, for the sea-breeze will be steady, and we are under easy sail.” I brought up a stiff glass of grog, which Swinburne tossed off, and as he finished it, sighed deeply as if in sorrow that there was no more. Having stowed away the tumbler in one of the cap stern holes for the present, we sat down upon a coil of ropes under the weather bulwarks, and Swinburne, replacing his quid of tobacco, commenced as follows:—

“Well, Mr Simple, as I told you before, old Jervis started with all his fleet for Cape St. Vincent. We lost one of our fleet—and a three-decker, too—the St. George; she took the ground, and was obliged to go back to Lisbon; but we soon afterwards were joined by five sail of the line, sent out from England, so that we mustered fifteen sail in all. We had like to lose another of our mess, for d’ye see, the old Culloden and Colossus fell foul of each other, and the Culloden had the worst on it, but Troubridge, who commanded her, was not a man to shy his work, and ax to go in to refit, when there was a chance of meeting the enemy—so he patched her up somehow or another, and reported himself ready for action the very next day. Ready for action he always was, that’s sure enough, but whether his ship was in a fit state to go into action, is quite another thing. But as the sailors used to say in joking, he was a true bridge, and you might trust to him; which meant as much as to say, that he knew how to take his ship into action, and how to fight her when he was fairly in it. I think it was the next day that Cockburn joined us in the Minerve, and he brought Nelson along with him, with the intelligence that the Dons had chased him, and that the whole Spanish fleet was out in pursuit of us. Well, Mr Simple, you may guess we were not a little happy in the Captain, when Nelson joined us, as we knew that if we fell in with the Spaniards, our ship would cut a figure—and so she did, sure enough. That was on the morning of the 13th, and old Jervis made the signal to prepare for action, and keep close order, which means, to have your flying jib-boom in at the starn windows of the ship ahead of you; and we did keep close order, for a man might have walked right round from one ship to the other, either lee or weather line of the fleet. I shan’t forget that night, Mr Simple, as long as I live and breathe. Every now and then we heard the signal guns of the Spanish fleet booming at a distance to windward of us, and you may guess how our hearts leaped at the sound, and how we watched with all our ears for the next gun that was fired, trying to make out their bearings and distance, as we assembled in little knots upon the booms and weather gangway. It was my middle watch, and I was signalman at the time, so of course I had no time to take a caulk if I was inclined. When my watch was over, I could not go down to my hammock, so I kept the morning watch too, as did most of the men on board: as for Nelson, he walked the deck the whole night, quite in a fever. At daylight it was thick and hazy weather, and we could not make them out; but about five bells, the old Culloden, who, if she had broke her nose, had not lost the use of her eyes, made the signal for a part of the Spanish fleet in sight. Old Jervis repeated the signal to prepare for action, but he might have saved the wear and tear of the bunting, for we were all ready, bulkheads down, screens up, guns shotted, tackles rove, yards slung, powder filled, shot on deck, and fire out—and what’s more, Mr Simple, I’ll be damned if we wer’n’t all willing too. About six bells in the forenoon, the fog and haze all cleared away at once, just like the rising of the foresail, that they lower down at the Portsmouth Theatre, and discovered the whole of the Spanish fleet. I counted them all. ‘How many, Swinburne?’ cries Nelson. ‘Twenty-six sail, sir,’ answered I. Nelson walked the quarterdeck backwards and forwards, rubbing his hands, and laughing to himself, and then he called for his glass, and went to the gangway with Captain Miller. ‘Swinburne, keep a good look upon the admiral,’ says he. ‘Ay, ay, sir,’ says I. Now, you see, Mr Simple, twenty-six sail against fifteen were great odds upon paper; but we didn’t think so, because we know’d the difference between the two fleets. There was our fifteen sail of the line all in apple-pie order, packed up as close as dominoes, and every man on board of them longing to come to the scratch; while there was their twenty-six, all somehow nohow, two lines here, and no line there, with a great gap of water in the middle of them. For this gap between their ships we all steered, with all the sail we could carry, because, d’ye see, Mr Simple, by getting them on both sides of us, we had the advantage of fighting both broadsides, which is just as easy as fighting one, and makes shorter work of it. Just as it struck seven bells, Troubridge opened the ball, setting to half-a-dozen of the Spaniards, and making them reel ‘Tom Collins,’ whether or no. Bang-bang-bang, bang! Oh, Mr Simple, it’s a beautiful sight, to see the first guns fired, that are to bring on a general action. ‘He’s the luckiest dog, that Troubridge,’ said Nelson, stamping with impatience. Our ships were soon hard at it, hammer and tongs, (my eyes, how they did pelt it in!) and old Sir John, in the Victory, smashed the cabin windows of the Spanish admiral, with such a hell of a raking broadside, that the fellow bore up as if the devil kicked him. Lord-a-mercy! you might have drove a Portsmouth waggon into his starn—the broadside of the Victory had made room enough. However, they were soon all smothered up in smoke, and we could not make out how things were going on—but we made a pretty good guess. Well, Mr Simple, as they say at the play, that was act the first, scene the first; and now we had to make our appearance, and I’ll leave you to judge, after I’ve told my tale, whether the old Captain wasn’t principal performer, and top sawyer over them all. But stop a moment, I’ll just look at the binnacle, for that young topman’s nodding at the wheel.—I say, Mr Smith, are you shutting your eyes to keep them warm, and letting the ship run half a point out of her course? take care I don’t send for another helmsman that’s all, and give the reason why. You’ll make a wry face upon six-water grog, to-morrow, at seven bells. Damn your eyes, keep them open—can’t you?”

Swinburne, after this genteel admonition to the man at the wheel, reseated himself and continued his narrative.

“All this while, Mr Simple, we in the Captain had not fired a gun; but were ranging up as fast as we could to where the enemy lay in a heap. There were plenty to pick and choose from; and Nelson looked out sharp for a big one, as little boys do when they have to choose an apple: and, by the piper that played before Moses! it was a big one that he ordered the master to put him alongside of. She was a four-decker, called the Santissima Trinidad. We had to pass some whoppers, which would have satisfied any reasonable man; for there was the San Josef, and Salvador del Mondo, and San Nicolas; but nothing would suit Nelson but this four-decked ship; so we crossed the hawse of about six of them, and as soon as we were abreast of her, and at the word ‘Fire!’ every gun went off at once, slap into her, and the old Captain reeled at the discharge as if she was drunk. I wish you’d only seen how we pitched it into this Holy Trinity; she was holy enough before we had done with her, riddled like a sieve, several of her ports knocked into one, and every scupper of her running blood and water. Not but what she stood to it as bold as brass, and gave us nearly gun for gun, and made a very pretty general average in our ship’s company. Many of the old captains went to kingdom come in that business, and many more were obliged to bear up for Greenwich Hospital.

“‘Fire away, my lads—steady aim!’ cries Nelson. ‘Jump down there, Mr Thomas; pass the word to reduce the cartridges, the shot go clean through her. Double shot the guns there, fore and aft.’

“So we were at it for about half-an-hour, when our guns became so hot from quick firing, that they bounced up to the beams overhead, tearing away their ringbolts, and snapping the breechings like rope yarns. By this time we were almost as much unrigged as if we had been two days paying off in Portsmouth harbour. The four-decker forged ahead, and Troubridge, in the jolly old Culloden, came between us and two other Spanish ships, who were playing into us. She was as fresh as a daisy, and gave them a dose which quite astonished them. They shook their ears, and fell astern, when the Blenheim laid hold of them, and mauled them so that they went astern again. But it was out of the frying-pan into the fire: for the Orion, Prince George, and one or two others, were coming up, and knocked the very guts out of them. I’ll be damned if they forgot the 14th of April, and sarve them right, too. Wasn’t a four-decker enough for any two-decker, without any more coming on us? and couldn’t the beggars have matched themselves like gentlemen? Well, Mr Simple, this gave us a minute or two to fetch our breath, let the guns cool, and repair damages, and swab the blood from the decks; but we lost our four-decker, for we could not get near her again.”

“What odd names the Spaniards give to their ships, Swinburne!”

“Why, yes, they do; it would almost appear wicked to belabour the Holy Trinity as we did. But why they should call a four-decked ship the Holy Trinity I can’t tell. Bill Saunders said that the fourth deck was for the Pope, who was as great a parsonage as the others: but I can’t understand how that can be. Well, Mr Simple, as I was head-signalman, I was perched on the poop, and didn’t serve at a gun. I had to report all I could see, which was not much, the smoke was so thick; but now and then I could get a peep, as it were, through the holes in the blanket. Of course I was obliged to keep my eye as much as possible upon the admiral, not to make out his signals, for Commodore Nelson wouldn’t thank me for that; I knew he hated a signal when in action, so I never took no notice of the bunting, but just watched to see what he was about. So while we are repairing damages, I’ll just tell you what I saw of the rest of the fleet. As soon as old Jervis had done for the Spanish admiral, he hauled his wind on the larboard tack, and, followed by four or five other ships, weathered the Spanish line and joined Collingwood in the Excellent. Then they all dashed through the line; the Excellent was the leading ship, and she first took the shine out of the Salvador del Mondo, and then left her to be picked up by the other ships, while she attacked a two-decker, who hauled down her colours—I forget her name just now. As soon as the Victory ran alongside of the Salvador del Mondo, down went her colours, and Excellent reasons had she for striking her flag. And now, Mr Simple, the old Captain comes into play again. Having parted company with the four-decker, we had recommenced action with the San Nicolas, a spanish eighty, and while we were hard at it, old Collingwood comes up in the Excellent. The San Nicolas, knowing that the Excellent’s broadside would send her to old Nick, put her helm up to avoid being raked: in so doing, she fell foul of the San Josef a Spanish three-decker, and we being all cut to pieces, and unmanageable—all of us indeed reeling about like drunken men—Nelson ordered his helm a star-board, and in a jiffy there we were, all three hugging each other, running in one another’s guns, smashing our chain-plates, and poking our yard arms through each other’s canvas.

“‘All hands to board!’ roared Nelson, leaping on the hammocks and waving his sword.

“‘Hurrah! hurrah!’ echoed through the decks, and up flew the men, like as (men) angry bees out of a bee-hive. In a moment pikes, tomahawks, cutlasses, and pistols were seized (for it was quite unexpected, Mr Simple), and our men poured into the eighty-gun ship, and in two minutes the decks were cleared, and all the Dons pitched below. I joined the boarders and was on the main-deck when Captain Miller came down, and cried out, ‘On deck again immediately.’ Up we went, and what do you think it was for, Mr Simple? Why to board a second time; for Nelson having taken the two-decker, swore that he’d have the three-decker as well. So away we went again, clambering up her lofty sides how we could, and dropping down on her decks like hailstones. We all made for the quarter-deck, beat down every Spanish beggar that showed fight, and in five minutes more we had hauled down the colours of two of the finest ships in the Spanish navy. If that wasn’t taking the shine out of the Dons, I should like to know what is. And didn’t the old captains cheer and shake hands, as Commodore Nelson stood on the deck of the San Josef, and received the swords of the Spanish officers! There was enough of them to go right round the capstern, and plenty to spare. Now, Mr Simple, what do you think of that for a spree?”

“Why, Swinburne, I can only say that I wish I had been there.”

“So did every man in the fleet, Mr Simple, I can tell you.”

“But what became of the Santissima Trinidad?”

“Upon my word, she behaved one deck better than all the others. She held out against four of our ships for a long while, and then hauled down her colours, and no disgrace to her, considering what a precious hammering she had taken first. But the lee division of the Spanish weather fleet, if I may so call it, consisting of eleven sail of the line, came up to her assistance, and surrounded her, so that they got her off. Our ships were too much cut up to commence a new action, and the admiral made the signal to secure the prizes. The Spanish fleet then did what they should have done before—got into line; and we lost no time in doing the same. But we both had had fighting enough.”

“But do you think, Swinburne, that the Spaniards fought well?”

“They’d have fought better, if they’d only have known how. There’s no want of courage in the Dons, Mr Simple, but they did not support each other. Only observe how Troubridge supported us. By God, Mr Simple, he was the real fellow, and Nelson knew it well. He was Nelson’s right-hand man; but you know there wasn’t room for two Nelsons. Their ships engaged held out well, it must be acknowledged, but why wer’n’t they all in their proper berths? Had they kept close order of sailing, and had all fought as well as those who were captured, it would not have been a very easy matter for fifteen ships to gain a victory over twenty-six. That’s long odds, even when backed by British seamen.”

“Well, how did you separate?”

“Why, the next morning the Spaniards had the weather-gauge, so they had the option whether to fight or not. At one time they had half a mind, for they bore down to us; upon which we hauled our wind, to show them we were all ready to meet them, and then they thought better of it, and rounded-to again. So as they wouldn’t fight, and we didn’t wish it, we parted company in the night; and two days afterwards we anchored, with our four prizes, in Lagos Bay. So now you have the whole of it, Mr Simple, and I’ve talked till I’m quite hoarse. You havn’t by chance another drop of the stuff left to clear my throat? It would be quite a charity.”

“I think I have, Swinburne; and as you deserve it, I will go and fetch it.”

Chapter Thirty Six

A letter from Father McGrath, who diplomatises—When priest meets priest, then comes the tug of war—Father O’Toole not to be made a tool of

We continued our cruise for a fortnight, and then made sail for Jamaica, where we found the admiral at anchor at Port Royal: but our signal was made to keep under weigh, and Captain Kearney, having paid his respects to the admiral, received orders to carry despatches to Halifax. Water and provisions were sent on board by the boats of the admiral’s ships, and, to our great disappointment, as the evening closed in, we were again standing out to sea, instead of, as we had anticipated, enjoying ourselves on shore; but the fact was, that orders had arrived from England to send a frigate immediately up to the admiral at Halifax, to be at his disposal.

I had, however, the satisfaction to know that Captain Kearney had been true to his word in making mention of my name in the despatch, for the clerk showed me a copy of it. Nothing occurred worth mentioning during our passage, except that Captain Kearney was very unwell nearly the whole of the time, and seldom quitted his cabin. It was in October that we anchored in Halifax harbour, and the Admiralty, expecting our arrival there, had forwarded our letters. There were none for me, but there was one for O’Brien, from Father McGrath, the contents of which were as follows:—

“My dear son,—

“And a good son you are, and that’s the truth on it, or devil a bit should you be a son of mine. You’ve made your family quite contented and peaceable and they never fight for the praties now—good reason why they shouldn’t, seeing that there’s a plenty for all of them, and the pig craturs into the bargain. Your father and your mother, and your brother, and your three sisters, send their duty to you, and their blessings too—and you may add my blessing, Terence, which is worth them all; for won’t I get you out of purgatory in the twinkling of a bed-post? Make yourself quite asy on that score, and lave it all to me; only just say a pater now and then, that when St. Peter lets you in, he mayn’t throw it in your teeth, that you’ve saved your soul by contract, which is the only way by which emperors and kings ever get to heaven. Your letter from Plymouth came safe to hand: Barney, the post-boy, having dropped it under foot close to our door, the big pig took it into his mouth and ran away with it; but I caught sight of him, and speaking to him, he let it go, knowing (the ’cute cratur!) that I could read it better than him. As soon as I had digested the contents, which it was lucky the pig did not instead of me, I just took my meal and my big stick, and then set off for Ballycleuch.

“Now, you know, Terence, if you haven’t forgot—and if you have, I’ll just remind you—that there’s a flaunty sort of young woman at the poteen shop there, who calls herself Mrs O’Rourke, wife to a corporal O’Rourke, who was kilt or died one day, I don’t know which, but that’s not of much consequence. The devil a bit do I think the priest ever gave the marriage-blessing to that same; although she swears that she was married on the rock of Gibraltar—it may be a strong rock fore I know, but it’s not the rock of salvation like the seven sacraments, of which marriage is one. Benedicite! Mrs O’Rourke is a little too apt to fleer and jeer at the priests; and if it were not that she softens down her pertinent remarks with a glass or two of the real poteen, which proves some respect for the church, I’d excommunicate her body and soul, and everybody, and every soul that put their lips to the cratur at her door. But she must leave that off, as I tell her, when she gets old and ugly, for then all the whisky in the world shan’t save her. But she’s a fine woman now, and it goes agin my conscience to help the devil to a fine woman. Now this Mrs O’Rourke knows everybody and everything that’s going on in the country about; and she has a tongue which has never had a holyday since it was let loose.

“‘Good morning to ye, Mrs O’Rourke,’ says I.

“‘An’ the top of the morning to you, Father McGrath,’ says she, with a smile: ‘what brings you here? Is it a journey that you’re taking to buy the true wood of the cross; or is it a purty girl that you wish to confess, Father McGrath? or is it only that you’re come for a drop of poteen, and a little bit of chat with Mrs O’Rourke?’

“‘Sure it’s I who’d be glad to find the same true wood of the cross, Mrs O’Rourke, but it’s not grown, I suspect, at your town of Ballycleuch; and it’s no objection I’d have to confess a purty girl like yourself, Mrs O’Rourke, who’ll only tell me half her sins, and give me no trouble; but it’s the truth, that I’m here for nothing else but to have a bit of chat with yourself, dainty dear, and taste your poteen, just by way of keeping my mouth nate and clane.’

“So Mrs O’Rourke poured out the real stuff, which I drank to her health; and then says I, putting down the bit of a glass, ‘So you’ve a stranger come, I find, in your parts, Mrs O’Rourke.’

“‘I’ve heard the same,’ replied she. So you observe, Terence, I came to the fact all at once by a guess.

“‘I’m tould,’ says I, ‘that he’s a Scotchman, and spakes what nobody can understand.’

“‘Devil a bit,’ says she; ‘he’s an Englishman, and speaks plain enough.’

“‘But what can a man mane, to come here and sit down all alone?’ says I.

“‘All alone, Father McGrath!’ replied she: ‘is a man all alone when he’s got his wife and childer, and more coming, with the blessing of God?’

“‘But those boys are not his own childer, I believe,’ says I.

“‘There again you’re all in a mistake, Father McGrath,’ rejoins she. ‘The childer are all his own, and all girls to boot. It appears that it’s just as well that you come down, now and then, for information, to our town of Ballycleuch.’

“‘Very true, Mrs O’Rourke,’ says I; ‘and who is it that knows everything so well as yourself?’ You observe, Terence, that I just said everything contrary and vice versa, as they call it, to the contents of your letter; for always recollect, my son, that if you would worm a secret out of a woman, you’ll do more by contradiction than you ever will by coaxing—so I went on: ‘Anyhow, I think it’s a burning shame, Mrs O’Rourke, for a gentleman to bring over with him here from England a parcel of lazy English servants, when there’s so many nice boys and girls here to attind upon them.’

“‘Now there you’re all wrong again, Father McGrath,’ says she. ‘Devil a soul has he brought from the other country, but has hired them all here. Ain’t there Ella Flanagan for one maid, and Terence Driscol for a footman? and it’s well that he looks in his new uniform, when he comes down for the newspapers; and ar’n’t Moggy Cala there to cook the dinner, and pretty Mary Sullivan for a nurse for the babby as soon as it comes into the world.’

“‘Is it Mary Sullivan, you mane?’ says I; ‘she that was married about three months back, and is so quick in child-getting, that she’s all but ready to fall to pieces in this same time?’

“‘It’s exactly she,’ says Mrs O’Rourke; ‘and do you know the reason?’