Peter Simple

During our stay at Yarmouth, we were not allowed to put our foot on shore, upon the plea that we must repair damages, and proceed immediately to our station; but the real fact was, that Captain Hawkins was very anxious that we should not be able to talk about the action. Finding no charges preferred against him, he recommenced his system of annoyance. His apartments had windows which looked out upon where the brig lay at anchor; and he constantly watched all our motions with his spy-glass, noting down if I did not hoist up boats, etcetera, exactly at the hour prescribed in his book of orders, so as to gather a list of charges against me if he could. This we did not find out until afterwards.

I mentioned before, that when Swinburne joined us at Plymouth, he had recommended a figure-head being put on the brig. This had been done at O’Brien’s expense—not in the cheap way recommended by Swinburne, but in a very handsome manner. It was a large snake coiled up in folds, with its head darting out in a menacing attitude, and the tail, with its rattle, appeared below. The whole was gilded, and had a very good effect; but after the dock-yard men had completed the repairs, and the brig was painted, one night the head of the rattlesnake disappeared. It had been sawed off by some malicious and evil-disposed persons, and no traces of it were to be found.

I was obliged to report this to the captain, who was very indignant, and offered twenty pounds for the discovery of the offender; but had he offered twenty thousand he never would have found out the delinquent. It was, however, never forgotten; for he understood what was implied by these manoeuvres. A new head was carved, but disappeared the night after it was fixed on.

The rage of the captain was without bounds: he turned the hands up, and declared that if the offender were not given up, he would flog every hand on board. He gave the ship’s company ten minutes, and then prepared to execute the threat. “Mr Paul, turn the hands up for punishment,” said the captain in a rage, and descended to his cabin for the articles of war. When he was down below, the officers talked over the matter. To flog every man for the crime of one, was the height of injustice, but it was not for us to oppose him; still the ship’s company must have seen, in our countenances, that we shared their feelings. The men were talking with each other in groups, until they all appeared to have communicated their ideas on the subject. The carpenters, had been slowly bringing aft the gratings, left off the job; the boatswain’s mates, who had come aft, rolled the tails of their cats round the red handles; and every man walked down below. No one was left on the quarter-deck but the marines under arms, and the officers.

Perceiving this, I desired Mr Paul, the boatswain, to send the men up to rig the gratings, and the quarter-masters with their seizings. He came up, and said that he had called them, but that they did not answer. Perceiving that the ship’s company would break out into open mutiny, if the captain persisted in his intention, I went down into the cabin, and told the captain the state of things, and wished for his orders or presence on deck.

The captain, whose wrath appeared to render him incapable of reflection, immediately proceeded on deck, and ordered the marines to load with ball-cartridge. This was done; but, as I was afterwards told by Thompson, who was standing aft, the marines loaded with the powder, and put the balls into their pockets. They wished to keep up the character of their corps for fidelity, and at the same time not fire upon men whom they loved as brothers, and with whom they coincided in opinion. Indeed, we afterwards discovered that it was a marine who had taken off the head of the snake a second time.

The captain then ordered the boatswain to turn the hands up. The boatswain made his appearance with his right arm in a sling.—“What’s the matter with your arm, Mr Paul?” said I, as he passed me.

“Tumbled down the hatchway just now—can’t move my arm; I must go to the surgeon as soon as this is over.”

The hands were piped up again, but no one obeyed the order. Thus was the brig in a state of mutiny. “Mr Simple, go forward to the main hatchway with the marines, and fire on the lower deck,” cried the captain.

“Sir,” said I, “there are two frigates within a cable’s length of us; and would it not be better to send for assistance, without shedding blood? Besides, sir, you have not yet tried the effect of calling up the carpenter’s and boatswain’s mates by name. Will you allow me to go down first, and bring them to a sense of their duty?”

“Yes, sir, I presume you know your power, but of this hereafter.”

I went down below and called the men by name.

“Sir,” said one of the boatswain’s mates, “the ship’s company say that they will not submit to be flogged.”

“I do not speak to the ship’s company generally, Collins,” replied I, “but you are now ordered to rig the gratings, and come on deck. It is an order that you cannot refuse. Go up directly, and obey it. Quartermasters, go on deck with your seizings. When all is ready, you can then expostulate.”

The men obeyed my orders: they crawled on deck, rigged the gratings, and stood by.

“All is ready, sir,” said I, touching my hat to the captain.

“Send the ship’s company aft, Mr Paul.”

“Aft, then, all of you, for punishment,” cried the boatswain.

“Yes, it is all of us for punishment,” cried one voice. “We’ve all to flog one another, and then pay off the jollies.” (Note: Jollies is a slang word for Marines.)

This time the men obeyed the order; they all appeared on the quarterdeck.

“The men are all aft, sir,” reported the boatswain.

“And now, my lads,” said the captain, “I’ll teach you what mutiny is. You see these two frigates alongside of us. You had forgotten them, I suppose, but I hadn’t. Here, you scoundrel, Mr Jones”—(this was the Joe Miller)—“strip, sir. If ever there were mischief in a ship, you are at the head.”

“Head, sir,” said the man, assuming a vacant look; “what head, sir. Do you mean the snake’s head? I don’t know anything about it, sir.”

“Strip, sir!” cried the captain, in a rage; “I’ll soon bring you to your senses.”

“If you please, your honour, what have I done to be tied up?” said the man.

“Strip, you scoundrel!”

“Well, sir, if you please, it’s hard to be flogged for nothing.”

The man pulled off his clothes, and walked up to the grating. The quarter-masters seized him up.

“Seized up, sir,” reported the scoundrel of a sergeant of marines, who acted as the captain’s spy.

The captain looked for the articles of war to read, as is necessary previous to punishing a man, and was a little puzzled to find one, where no positive offence had been committed. At last he pitched upon the one which refers to combination and conspiracy, and creating discontent. We all took off our hats as he read it, and he then called Mr Paul, the boatswain, and ordered him to give the man a dozen.

“Please, sir,” said the boatswain, pointing to his arm in a sling, “I can’t flog—I can’t lift up my arm.”

“Your arm was well enough when I came on board, sir,” cried the captain.

“Yes, sir; but in hurrying the men up, I slipped down the ladder, and I’m afraid I’ve put my shoulder out.”

The captain bit his lips; he fully believed it was a sham on the part of the boatswain (which indeed it was), to get off flogging the men. “Well, then, where is the chief boatswain’s mate, Collins?”

“Here, sir,” said Collins, coming forward: a stout, muscular man, nearly six feet high, with a pig-tail nearly four feet long, and his open breast covered with black shaggy hair.

“Give that man a dozen, sir,” said the captain.

The man looked at the captain, then at the ship’s company, and then at the man seized up, but did not commence the punishment.

“Do you hear me, sir,” roared the captain.

“If you please, your honour, I’d rather take my disrating—I—don’t wish to be chief boatswain’s mate in this here business.”

“Obey your orders, immediately, sir,” cried the captain; “or, by God, I’ll try you for mutiny.”

“Well, sir, I beg your pardon; but what must be, must be. I mean no disrespect, Captain Hawkins, but I cannot flog that man—my conscience won’t let me.”

“Your conscience, sir?”

“Beg your pardon, Captain Hawkins, I’ve always done my duty, foul weather or fair; and I’ve been eighteen years in His Majesty’s service, without ever being brought to punishment; but if I am to be hung now, saving your pleasure, and with all respect, I can’t help it.”

“I give you but one moment more, sir,” cried the captain: “do your duty.”

The man looked at the captain, and then eyed the yard-arm. “Captain Hawkins, I will do my duty, although I must swing for it.” So saying, he threw his cat down on the quarter-deck, and fell back among the ship’s company.

The captain was now confounded, and hardly knew how to act: to persevere, appeared useless—to fall back, was almost as impossible. A dead silence of a minute ensued. Everyone was breathless, with impatience, to know what would be done next. The silence was, however, first broken by Jones, the Joe Miller, who was seized up.

“Beg your honour’s pardon, sir,” said he, turning his head round: “but if I am to be flogged, will you be pleased to let me have it over? I shall catch my death a-cold, naked here all day.”

This was decided mockery on the part of the man, and roused the captain.

“Sergeant of marines, put Jones, and that man Collins, both legs in irons, for mutiny. My men, I perceive that there is a conspiracy in the ship, but I shall very soon put an end to it: I know the men, and, by God, they shall repent it. Mr Paul, pipe down. Mr Simple, man my gig; and recollect, it’s my positive orders that no boat goes on shore.”

The captain left the brig, looking daggers at me as he went over the side; but I had done my duty, and cared little for that; indeed, I was now watching his conduct, as carefully as he did mine.