Peter Simple

“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.

Chapter Fifty Nine

The dead man attends at the auction of his own effects, and bids the sale to stop—One more than was wanted—Peter steps into his own shoes again—Captain Hawkins takes a friendly interest in Peter’s papers—Riga balsam sternly refused to be admitted for the relief of the ship’s company

As soon as the sails were furled, I thanked the master of the vessel for his kindness, and requested the boat. He ordered it to be manned, saying, “How glad your captain will be to see you!” I doubted that. We shook hands, and I pulled to the Rattlesnake, which lay about two cables’ length astern of us. I had put on a jacket, when I left the brig on service, and coming in a merchantman’s boat, no attention was paid to me; indeed, owing to circumstances, no one was on the look-out, and I ascended the side unperceived.

The men and officers were on the quarter-deck, attending the sale of dead men’s effects before the mast, and every eye was fixed upon six pairs of nankeen trowsers exposed by the purser’s steward, which I recognised as my own. “Nine shillings for six pairs of nankeen trowsers,” cried the purser’s steward.

“Come, my men, they’re worth more than that,” observed the captain, who appeared to be very facetious. “It’s better to be in his trowsers than in his shoes.” This brutal remark created a silence for a moment. “Well, then, steward, let them go. One would think that pulling on his trowsers would make you as afraid as he was,” continued the captain laughing.

“Shame!” was cried out by one or two of the officers, and I recognised Swinburne’s voice as one.

“More likely if they put on yours,” cried I, in a loud indignant tone.

Everybody started, and turned round; Captain Hawkins staggered to a carronade: “I beg to report myself as having rejoined my ship, sir,” continued I.

“Hurrah, my lads! three cheers for Mr Simple,” said Swinburne.

The men gave them with emphasis. The captain looked at me, and without saying a word, hastily retreated to his cabin. I perceived, as he went down, that he had his arm in a sling. I thanked the men for their kind feeling towards me, shook hands with Thompson and Webster, who warmly congratulated me, and then with old Swinburne (who nearly wrung my arm off, and gave my shoulder such pain, as to make me cry out), and with the others who extended theirs. I desired the sale of my effects to be stopped; fortunately for me, it had but just begun, and the articles were all returned. Thompson had informed the captain that he knew my father’s address, and would take charge of my clothes, and send them home, but the captain would not allow him.

In a few minutes, I received a letter from the captain, desiring me to acquaint him in writing, for the information of the senior officer, in what manner I had escaped. I went down below, when I found one very melancholy face, that of the passed-midshipman of the Acasta, who had received an acting order in my place. When I went to my desk, I found two important articles missing; one, my private letter-book, and the other, the journal which I kept of what passed, and from which this narrative has been compiled. I inquired of my messmates, who stated that the desk had not been looked into by any one but the captain, who, of course, must have possessed himself of those important documents.

I wrote a letter containing a short narrative of what had happened, and, at the same time, another on service to the captain, requesting that he would deliver up my property, the private journal, and letter-book in his possession. The captain, as soon as he received my letters, sent up word for his boat to be manned. As soon as it was manned, I reported it, and then begged to know whether he intended to comply with my request. He answered that he should not, and then went on deck, and quitted the brig to pull on board of the senior officer. I therefore determined immediately to write to the captain of the Acasta, acquainting him with the conduct of Captain Hawkins, and requesting his interference. This I did immediately, and the boat that had brought me on board not having left the brig, I sent the letter by it, requesting them to put it into the hands of one of the officers. The letter was received previous to Captain Hawkins’ visit being over; and the captain of the Acasta put it into his hands, inquiring if the statement were correct. Captain Hawkins replied, that it was true that he had detained these papers, as there was so much mutiny and disaffection in them, and that he should not return them to me.

“That I cannot permit,” replied the captain of the Acasta, who was aware of the character of Captain Hawkins; “if, by mistake, you have been put in possession of any of Mr Simple’s secrets, you are bound in honour not to make use of them; neither can you retain property not your own.”

But Captain Hawkins was determined, and refused to give them to me. “Well, then, Captain Hawkins,” replied the captain of the Acasta, you will oblige me by remaining on my quarter-deck till I come out of the cabin.

The captain of the Acasta then wrote an order, directing Captain Hawkins immediately to deliver up to him the papers of mine in his possession; and coming out of the cabin, put it into Captain Hawkins’ hands, saying, “Now, sir, here is a written order from your superior officer. Disobey it, if you dare. If you do, I will put you under an arrest, and try you by a court-martial.”

Captain Hawkins bit his lip at the order.

“Your boat is manned, sir,” said the captain of the Acasta, in a severe tone.

Captain Hawkins came on board, sealed up the books, and sent them to the captain of the Acasta, who redirected them to me, on His Majesty’s service, and returned them by the same boat. The public may therefore thank the captain of the Acasta for the memoirs which they are now reading.

From my messmates I gained the following intelligence of what had passed after I had quitted the brig. The fire of the praam had cut them up severely, and Captain Hawkins had been struck in the arm with a piece of the hammock rail, which had been shot away shortly after I left. Although the skin only was razed, he thought proper to consider himself badly wounded; and giving up the command to Mr Webster, the second lieutenant, had retreated below, where he remained until the action was over. When Mr Webster reported the return of the boats, with the capture of the gun-boat, and my supposed death, he was delighted, that he quite forgot his wound, and ran on deck, rubbing his hands as he walked up and down. At last he recollected himself, went down into his cabin, and came up again with his arm in a sling.

During the short time that we remained in port, I took care that Riga balsam should not be allowed to come alongside, and the men were all sober. We received orders from the captain of the Acasta to join the admiral, who was off the Texel, in pursuance of directions he had received from the Admiralty to despatch one of the squadron, and we were selected from the dislike which he had taken to Captain Hawkins.

Chapter Sixty

An old friend in a new case—Heart of oak in Swedish fir—A man’s a man, all the world over, and something more in many parts of it—Peter gets reprimanded for being dilatory, but proves a title to a defence-allowed

When we were about forty miles off the harbour, a frigate hove in sight. We made the private signal: she hoisted Swedish colours, and kept away a couple of points to close with us.

We were within two miles of her when she up courses and took in her topgallant sails. As we closed to within two cable’s lengths, she hove-to. We did the same; and the captain desired me to lower down the boat, and board her, ask her name, by whom she was commanded, and offer any assistance if the captain required it. This was the usual custom of the service, and I went on board in obedience to my orders. When I arrived on the quarter-deck, I asked in French, whether there were any one who spoke it. The first lieutenant came forward, and took off his hat: I stated, that I was requested to ask the name of the vessel and the commanding officer, to insert it in our log, and to offer any services that we could command. He replied, that the captain was on deck, and turned round, but the captain had gone down below. “I will inform him of your message—I had no idea that he had quitted the deck;” and the first lieutenant left me. I exchanged a few compliments, and a little news with the officers on deck, who appeared to be very gentlemanlike fellows, when the first lieutenant requested my presence in the cabin. I descended—the door was opened—I was announced by the first lieutenant, and he quitted the cabin. I looked at the captain, who was sitting at the table: he was a fine, stout man, with two or three ribands at his button-hole, and a large pair of mustachios. I thought that I had seen him before, but I could not recollect when: his face was certainly familiar to me, but, as I had been informed by the officers on deck, that the captain was a Count Shucksen, a person I had never heard of, I thought that I must be mistaken. I therefore addressed him in French, paying him a long compliment, with all the necessary et ceteras.

The captain turned round to me, took his hand away from his forehead, which it had shaded, and looking me full in the face, replied, “Mr Simple, I don’t understand but very little French. Spin your yarn in plain English.”

I started—“I thought that I knew your face,” replied I; “am I mistaken?—no, it must be Mr Chucks!”