Peter Simple

“Silence there, fore and aft,” cried the captain angrily. “Mr Simple, is this the way that the ship’s company have been disciplined under their late commander, to halloo and bawl whenever they think proper?”

I was irritated at any reflection upon O’Brien, and I replied, “Yes sir; they have been always accustomed to express their joy at the prospect of engaging the enemy.”

“Very well, Mr Simple,” replied he.

“How are we to put her head?” inquired the master, touching his hat; “for the chase?”

“Of course,” replied the captain, who then descended into his cabin.

“Come, my lads,” said Swinburne, as soon as the captain was below, “I have been going round, and I fine that your pets are all in good fighting order. I promise ye, you sha’n’t wait for powder. They’ll find that the Rattlesnake can bite devilish hard yet, I expect.”

“Ay, and without its head, too,” replied one of the men, who was the Joe Miller of the brig.

The chase, perceiving that she could not escape—for we were coming up with her, hand over hand, now shortened sail for action, hoisting Dutch colours.

Captain Hawkins again made his appearance on the quarter-deck, when we were within half a mile of her.

“Are we to run alongside of her, or how?” inquired I. “Mr Simple, I command her,” replied he, “and want no interference whatever.”

“Very well, sir,” replied I, and I walked to the gangway.

“Mr Thompson,” cried the captain, who appeared to have screwed up his courage to the right pitch, and had now taken his position for a moment on one of the carronades; “you will lay the brig right—”

Bang, bang—whiz, whiz—bang—whiz, came three shots from the enemy, cleaving the air between our masts. The captain jumped down from the carronade, and hastened to the capstan, without finishing his sentence. “Shall we fire when we are ready, sir?” said I; for I perceived that he was not capable of giving correct orders.

“Yes—yes, to be sure,” replied he, remaining where he was.

“Thompson,” said I to the master, “I think we can manage in our present commanding position, to get foul of him, so as to knock away his jib-boom and fore-topmast, and then she can’t escape. We have good way on her.”

“I’ll manage it, Simple, or my name is not Thompson,” replied the master, jumping into the quarter-boat, conning the vessel in that exposed situation, as we received the enemy’s fire.

“Look out, my lads, and pour it into her now, just as you please,” said I to the men.

The seamen were, however, too well disciplined to take immediate advantage of my permission; they waited until we passed her, and just as the master put up his helm so as to catch her jib-boom between our masts, the whole broadside was poured into his bow and chess-tree. Her jib-boom and fore-topgallant went down, and she had so much way through the water, that we tore clear from her, and rounding to the wind shot a-head. The enemy, although in confusion from the effects of our broadside, put up his helm to rake us; we perceived his manoeuvre, and did the same, and then squaring our sail, we ran with him before the wind, engaging broadside to broadside.

This continued about half-an-hour, and we soon found that we had no fool to play with. The brig was well fought, and her guns well directed. We had several men taken down below, and I thought it would be better to engage her even closer. There was about a cable’s length between both vessels, as we ran before the wind, at about six miles an hour with a slight rolling motion.

“Thompson,” said I, “let us see if we cannot beat them from their guns. Let’s port the helm, and close her, till we can shy a biscuit on board.”

“Just my opinion, Simple; we’ll see if they won’t make another sort of running fight of it.”

In a few minutes we were so close on board of her that the men who loaded the guns could touch each other with their rammers and sponges. The men cheered; it was gallantly returned by the enemy, and havoc was now commenced by the musketry on both sides. The French captain, who appeared as brave a fellow as ever stepped, stood for some minutes on the hammocks: I was also holding on by the swifter of the main rigging, when he took off his hat and politely saluted me. I returned the compliment; but the fire became too hot, and I wished to get under the shelter of the bulwark. Still I would not go down first, and the French captain appeared determined not to be the first either to quit the post of honour. At last one of our marines hit him in the right arm: he clasped his hand to the part, as if to point it out to me, nodded, and was assisted down from the hammocks. I immediately quitted my post, for I thought it foolish to stand as a mark for forty or fifty soldiers. I had already received a bullet through the small of my leg. But the effects of such close fire now became apparent: our guns were only half manned, our sides terribly cut up, and our sails and rigging in tatters. The enemy was even worse off, and two broadsides more brought her mainmast by the board. Our men cheered, and threw in another broadside. The enemy dropped astern; we rounded to rake her; she also attempted to round-to, but could not until she had cleared away her wreck, and taken in her foresail, and lowered her topsail. She then continued the action with as much spirit as ever.

“He’s a fine fellow, by God!” exclaimed Thompson; “I never saw a man fight his ship better: but we have him. Webster’s down, poor fellow!”

“I’m sorry for it,” replied I; “but I’m afraid that there are many poor fellows who have lost the number of their mess. I think it useless throwing away the advantage which we now have. He can’t escape, and he’ll fight this way for ever. We had better run a-head, repair damages, and then he must surrender, in his crippled state, when we attack him again.”

“I agree with you,” said Thompson; “the only point is, that it will soon be dark.”

“I’ll not lose sight of him, and he cannot get away. If he puts before the wind, then we’ll be at him again.”

We gave him the loaded guns as we forged a-head, and when we were about half a mile from him, hove to, to repair damages.

The reader may now ask, “But where was the captain all this time?” My answer, is, that he was at the capstan, where he stood in silence, not once interfering during the whole action, which was fought by Thompson the master and myself. How he looked, or how he behaved in other points during the engagement, I cannot pretend to say, for I had no time to observe him. Even now, I was busy knotting the rigging, rousing up new sails to bend, and getting everything in order, and I should not have observed him, had he not come up to me; for as soon as we had ceased firing he appeared to recover himself. He did not, however, first address me; he commenced speaking to the men.

“Come, be smart, my lads; send a hand here to swab up the blood. Here, youngster, run down to the surgeon, and let him know that I wish a report of the killed and wounded.”

By degrees, he talked more, and at last came up to me. “This has been rather smartish, Mr Simple.”

“Very smart indeed, sir,” replied I; and then turned away to give directions.

“Maintop there, send down the hauling line on the starboard side.”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

“Now then, my lads, clap on, and run it up at once.”

“Maintop, there,” hailed the captain, “be a little smarter, or, by God, I’ll call you down for something.”

This did not come with a good grace from one, who had done nothing, to those who were working with all their energy.

“Mr Simple,” said the captain, “I wish you would carry on duty with less noise.”

“At all events, he set us the example during the action,” muttered the Joe Miller; and the other men laughed heartily at the implication.

In two hours, during which we had carefully watched the enemy, who still lay where we left him, we were again ready for action.

“Shall I give the men their grog now, sir?” said I, to the captain; “they must want it.”

“No, no,” replied the captain; “no, no, Mr Simple, I don’t like what you call Dutch courage.”

“I don’t think he much does; and this fellow has shown plenty of it,” said the Joe Miller, softly; and the men about him laughed heartily.

“I think, sir,” observed I, “that it is an injustice to this fine ship’s company, to hint at their requiring Dutch courage.” (Dutch courage is a term for courage screwed up by drinking freely.) “And I most respectfully beg leave to observe, that the men have not had their afternoon’s allowance; and, after the fatigues they have undergone, really require it.”

“I command this ship, sir,” replied he.

“Certainly, sir, I am aware of it,” rejoined I. “She is now all ready for action again, and I wait your orders. The enemy is two miles on the lee quarter.”

The surgeon here came up with his report.

“Good heavens!” said the captain, “forty-seven men killed and wounded; Mr Webster dangerously. Why, the brig is crippled. We can do no more—positively, we can do no more.”

“We can take that brig, anyhow,” cried one of the seamen, from a dozen of the men who were to leeward, expecting orders to renew the attack.

“What man was that?” cried the captain.

No one answered.

“By God! this ship is in a state of mutiny, Mr Simple.”

“Will soon be, I think,” said a voice from the crowd, which I knew very well; but the captain, having been but a short time with us, did not know it.

“Do you hear that, Mr Simple?” cried the captain.

“I regret to say that I did hear it, sir; I little thought that ever such an expression would have been make use of on board of the Rattlesnake.” Then fearing he would ask me the man’s name, and to pretend not to have recognised it, I said, “Who was that who made use of that expression?” But no one answered; and it was so dark that it was impossible to distinguish the men.

“After such mutinous expressions,” observed the captain, “I certainly will not risk His Majesty’s brig under my command, as I should have wished to have done, even in her crippled state, by again engaging the enemy. I can only regret that the officers appear as insolent as the men.”

“Perhaps, Captain Hawkins, you will state in what, and when, I have proved myself insolent. I cannot accuse myself.”

“I hope the expression was not applied to me, sir,” said Thompson, the master, touching his hat.

“Silence, gentlemen, if you please. Mr Simple, wear round the ship.” Whether the captain intended to attack the enemy or not, we could not tell, but we were soon undeceived; for when we were round, he ordered her to be kept away, until the Dutch brig was on our lee quarter: then ordering the master to shape his course for Yarmouth, he went down into the cabin, and sent up word that I might pipe to supper, and serve out the spirits.

The rage and indignation of the men could not be withheld. After they went down to supper they gave three heavy groans in concert; indeed, during the whole of that night, the officers who kept the watches had great difficulty in keeping the men from venting their feeling, in what might be almost termed justifiable mutiny. As for myself, I could hardly control my vexation. The brig was our certain prize; and this was proved, for the next day she hauled down her colours immediately to a much smaller man-of-war, which fell in with her, still lying in the same crippled state; the captain and first lieutenant killed, and nearly two-thirds of her ship’s company either killed or wounded. Had we attacked her, she would have hauled down her colours immediately, for it was our last broadside which had killed the captain, who had shown so much courage. As first lieutenant, I should have received my promotion which was now lost. I cried for vexation when I thought of it as I lay in bed. That his conduct was severely commented upon by the officers in the gun-room, as well as by the whole ship’s company, I hardly need say. Thompson was for bringing him to a court-martial, which I would most gladly have done, if it only were to get rid of him; but I had a long conversation with old Swinburne on the subject, and he proved to me that I had better not attempt it. “For, d’ye see, Mr Simple, you have no proof. He did not run down below; he stood his ground on deck, although he did nothing. You can’t prove cowardice then, although there can be no great doubt of it. Again, with regard to his not renewing the attack, why, is not a captain at liberty to decide what is the best for His Majesty’s service? And if he thought, in the crippled state of the brig, so close to the enemy’s coast, that it wasn’t advisable, why, it could only be brought in as an error in judgment. Then, there’s another thing which must be remembered, Mr Simple, which is, that no captains sitting on a court-martial will, if it be possible to extricate him, ever prove cowardice against a brother captain, because they feel that it’s a disgrace, to the whole cloth.”

Swinburne’s advice was good, and I gave up all thoughts of proceeding; still, it appeared to me, that the captain was very much afraid that I would, he was so extremely amiable and polite during our run home. He said, that he had watched how well I had behaved in the action, and would not fail to notice it. This was something, but he did not keep his word; for his despatch was published before we quitted the roadstead, and not the name of one officer mentioned, only generally saying, that they conducted themselves to his satisfaction. He called the enemy a corvette, not specifying whether she was brig or ship corvette; and the whole was written in such a bombastic style, that any one would have imagined that he had found a vessel of superior force. He stated, at the end, that as soon as he repaired damages, he wore round, but that the enemy declined further action. So she did, certainly—for the best of all possible reasons, that she was too disabled to come down to us. All this might have been contested; but the enormous list of killed and wounded proved that we had had a hard fight, and the capture of the brig afterwards, that we had really overpowered her. So that, on the whole, Captain Hawkins gained a great deal of credit with some; although whispers were afloat, which came to the ears of the Admiralty, and prevented him from being posted—the more so, as he had the modesty not to apply for it.

Chapter Fifty Six

Consequences of the action—A ship without a fighting captain is like a thing without a head—So do the sailors think—A mutiny, and the loss of our famous ship’s company

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.”