Volume 1 — 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 51of 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 52the 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.

53Another 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.

54On 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 55comment 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 56shooting 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 57duly 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 58people, 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.

On the return of the Hind from Norway, my uncle was appointed to the Thetis, a more powerful frigate; for though the Hind carried 28 guns, they were only 9-pounders; an armament truly ridiculous as compared with that of frigates of the present day. It may almost be said, that the use of such an armament consisted in 59rendering it necessary to resort to the cutlass and boarding-pike—weapons to be relied on. Had such been the object of the Board of Admiralty as regarded the smaller class of frigates, it could not have been better carried out. The lighter class of vessels were even worse provided for. Seven years later a sloop was placed under my command, armed with 4-pounders only. One day, by way of burlesque on such an equipment, I walked the quarter-deck with a whole broadside of shot in my coat pockets.

The Thetis was ordered to equip at Sheerness, and knowing that her first lieutenant, instead of indulging himself ashore, would pursue his customary relaxation of working hard aboard, I begged permission to remain and profit by his example. This was graciously conceded, on condition that, like himself, I would put off the officer and assume the garb of a seaman. Nothing could be more to my taste; so, with knife in belt and marlinspike in hand, the captain of the forecastle undertook my improvement in the arts of knotting and splicing; Larmour himself taking charge of gammoning and rigging the bowsprit, which, as the frigate lay in dock, overhung the common highway. So little attention was then paid to the niceties of dockyard arrangement.

Dockyards in those days were secondary objects. At Sheerness the people lived, like rabbits in a warren, in old hulks, hauled up high and dry; yet everything was well done, and the supervision perfect. It would be folly to advocate the continuance of such a state of things, yet it may be doubted whether the naval efficiency 60of the present day keeps pace with the enormous outlay on modern dockyards, almost (as it appears to me) to ignoring the training of men. I would rather see a mistake in the opposite extreme—men before dockyard conveniences; and am confident that had such been our practice, we should not have recently heard humiliating explanations, that we were without adequate naval protection, and that our nationalnational safety depended on the forbearance of a neighbouring state.

Precision in stone and mortar is no more naval efficiency, than are the absurd coast fortifications (to which there is an evident leaning) national safety. The true fortification of England is, always to be in a position to strike the first blow at sea the moment it may become necessary. To wait for it would, under any circumstances, be folly—to be unprepared for it, national suicide.

The service now seems to savour too much of the dockyard, and too little of the seaman. Formerly, both officers and men had to lend a hand in everything, and few were the operations which, unaided by artificers, they could not perfectly accomplish. On two occasions my own personal skill at pump-work has saved ships and crews when other assistance was not available.

The modern practice is to place ships in commission, with everything perfect to the hands of the officers and crew, little being required of them beyond keeping the ship in order whilst at sea. The practice is to a certain extent praiseworthy; but it has the disadvantage of impressing officers with the belief that handicraft skill on their part is unnecessary, though in the absence of 61practically acquired knowledge it is impossible even to direct any operation efficiently.

Without a certain amount of this skill, as forming an important part of training, no man can become an efficient naval officer. It would be gratifying to me should these remarks lead to inquiry on the subject. I must confess my inability to peruse the accounts of inexperience in the fleet at the outbreak of the late war with Russia, without grave misgivings that the supervision of the navy in the present day is not that of old time.

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