Читать книгу The West Wind - Crosbie Garstin - Страница 13

Table of Contents

To Thomas Burnadick, Esq., Nancarrow House, Constantine, Cornwall.

Dear Sir,

I have the honour to inform you that we are now lying in St. Marys Roads Isles of Scilly. We left the Carrick Roads at two of the morning of July 3rd, and were off Penzance in six hours where I picked up forty-three men (eleven being stout fishermen from my own parish) under the charge of one Baragwanath who I left to beat the country. It being a fine afternoon I tacked the Ghost across and across before Penzance under full sail and all flags flying saluting with bow and stern chasers as she went about and had all the landsmen abord with as many wives and sweethearts as they chose to bring and a barl of Ale and a Fidler for theyr entertainment which outlay was not misspent for next day eight more landsmen came off hearing of the good Cheer to be had. The evening of the 5th I sailed for the westward. The Company now musters 83 which is all too few for a Vessel of this metal and tonage especially as not above a score were ever on a ship before. In truth we should do better founding a Colony than fighting the Kings enemys for we have Tradesmen abord of every sort, a Gamekeeper from Trelowarren, 2 Grooms and a post boy (baker-legged) a pot man (blind of an eye) a Barber, a Rat Catcher (deaf) a Stay-maker, an umbrella maker, a Fustian cutter, a calender man, a Schoolmaster, a chimney Sweep (that hath the St. Vitus) and the rest are mostly farm boys, tinners and dockside ragamuffins. Beating to the westard theyr condition with sea sickness was pitiful to see, they lay about like dead men asprawl and cheerless declining nourishment. I crused to the westard of the Bishop Rock for 8 days but speaking nothing but English Traders and Newtrals (tho’ had I met with an enemy of force I must needs of run from him having scarce Men enough to work Ship leave alone Guns) I put in here for Water and Beef. Now that the Company have got theyr Sea Legs I have them constantly at work at pike and cutlass exercise and handling the Guns and trust to make a Creditable Showing before long. There is one Matter I must bring to your notice and that is a gentleman Volunteer who came abord last thing before leaving Falmouth. The Topsails were loosed and the Anchor coming home when there was a Hail from overside and over the Rail comes a very fine Fashionable Gentleman with a sword at his side. I asks him who he is and what he wants and he says (speaking outlandish) his name is De Merdrinac and he is wishful to sail with us as a Volunteer. You are a French man, says I. French Emigray, he says. Kings Officer, Republick, bah! (spitting). Fight like Hell, you see. With that he outs with his sword and makes play with it shouting Ha Ha and stamping his Foot, the Sword darting like a spit of Lightning thro’ all the Parrys, Guards and Thrusts faster than my Eye could follow. Just then the water man uplifts his voice after his Fare. The Frenchman takes no heed but continues ha haing and thrusting round the Deck like it was thronged with Enemys. The Waterman comes abord demanding his Fare very blasphemous whereat the Moosoo gives a yell and is after him sword first. The Waterman runs for the Rail and is over it faster than he came, the Frenchman giving him a prick in the Breech to speed him. The Waterman drops into his Boat like a sack of Potatoes pushes off an Oars length and again hollers for his Fare swearing he will have the Law of us. The Frenchman feels in his Pockets and turns ’em inside out. All gone, says he, laughing, then he tears off his silver Shoe Buckels and pitches them at the Water man. Go to the Devil son of a Pig, he says and the Waterman is gone rowing for his Life. Put that Skewer up for Gods Sake or you will spit Somebody and I am short-handed as it is, I says, hard put to keep from laughing. Have you a Paper to prove yourself? if not I trust you can swim for I shall surely heave you Overbord. The Frenchman pulls a Packet from his coat and hands them to me with a Polite Bow. I had no time to examine them then but I have since and they Appear all in Order. His name is Rene Phillipe Count of Merdrinac in Brittany—he served eight years in the East Indies. Later being weakened with Wounds and Fevers he was sent home to find his Ancestral Mansion burned to the ground by the Revolution and his Family perished by the Gilloutine. He escaped to England by a Smuggler from Roscoff and has been living in Falmouth giving Fencing lessons. On the night of July 2nd he attended a Venison dinner at Blundstone’s and played Ecarte with some Gentlemen afterwards. By one o’clock he had lost every Penny he possessed, by half-past one he had lost his Cravat Solitair, his Watch, his Seals and his Rings. He then came straight off to the Ghost as he stood (hoping thereby to restore his Fortunes and go Gambling again) paying his way with his Shoe Buckles. He declares himself well known to Sir Michael Nowell, Mr. Southwell Curtis and Mr. Pidgley, the Banker, and other Gentlemen of Falmouth. For my part I am Well Satisfied but not so Mr. Pentacost who says that the Count being a Frenchman must also be a Perfidious Character, but I think Mr. Pentacosts complaint is not so much against the Counts nationality as his Religion which Mr. Pentacost has discovered to be Catholick, he being very Acrimonious against that sect. I would be vastly obliged to you Sir if you would enquire of Mr. Curtis or Mr. Pidgley concerning the Count not that I have any misgivings but in order to quiet Mr. Pentacost whose continual mumblings are tedius to indure. The Ghost sails like a witch if with the trifle of a lee helm which I will correct. All hands are healthful and in good spirits now they have got their sea legs. The young man Sawle from your estate is shaping well, he wishes me to convey his respectful obligations to yourself. I shall cruse to the westward of the Bishop returning here in ten days.

I have the honour to remain

your most obedient and humble servant

Ortho Penhale (Master)

Ghost. Privateer.

Isles of Scilly

July 13, 1795.

To Mrs. Phoebe Sawle, widow. Constantine. Cornwall. by Silly packet.

Deer Ma,

Yest a few lines to say I hope you are in good Health as I am but I thort you wood not see me agen the See ran as big as Hills all around and no land in site I thort wee was overwelmed the Ship jumping like a colt nite and day and the See bursting agen her I cud get no rest nor hold no vitels and if a Frinchman had come along he cud of took us for all I cared. Now I am restored and in good healh as I hope you are for which God be Thanked for I never thort to see another Day. Vest a few lines to say wee are in the Isles of Silly in carm water like helford River yesterday I climbed to the Top Gallant Yard and saw the land of Cornwall far away I wish I was there but did not stop long as I was near ded of Frite being so high. These are poor islands but the People make a grand Trayd smuggling despite the Kings ship that is heer to stop them. Capn Penhale is very merry laffing and joking at the men but Mr. Pentacost is for ever nagging and complaining at them he is Religus and will have no swaring or blasfeeming the sailers call him old sour belly the food is teedius beef and pork and pees I wish I cud have some of your figgy pudden and Muggitty Pie and fresh eggs I wood eat for a week. I am training on the Big Guns every day Mr. Baragwanath the Gunner is a terrible sharp man who do not think twice to doust you if you are slow with a Bar or Rammer wee have not met any Frinch as yet but Capn Penhale says we shall soon meet Plenty and make our Fortunes which I am sure I trust wee shall tell lizzie Prowse I am in good health and will be home come feasten with plenty money never more to rome I trust your loving Son Richard Henry Sawle abord Privateer Ghost.

Tell Matt Williams my new Breeches and Westcut must be reddy come Feasten without fail.

To George Mathew Baragwanath. Admiral Anson Inn, Monks Cove. St. Gwithian. Cornwall.

Dear Father,

We are in Scilly and all well Peter Mumford says he has sum of the Rite Stuff hid on the Island of Rosevean in the Old Spot you will know where He Says. He card it a sennight since from Gernsay but cant move it as the Preventive has him watched close as a Kat. He says will you send a Boat to fish on the Powll she can cum in by nite and take it and you can credit him with the moneys which is twenty two pound. I have a crew to train to the Guns as never you saw Townsmen and Farmers and such-like lousey swipes yore son Benny.

Thomas Burnadick Esq., Nancarrow House.

Dear Sir,

I am obliged to you for your letter receeved this day and for your information concerning the count of Merdrinac, which is greatly to my satisfaction and which I will convey to Mr. Pentacost tho’ I have small hope to convince him for if a man were a Heavenly Angel and yet a Catholic Mr. Pentacost would hang him out of hand, feathers, halo and all. The Count has already proved himself very servicable in the exercise of small arms and Borders. He has also selected a party of marksmen for the Tops and trained them to shoot at old bottles and casks, thrown overbord. The Trelowarren Game keeper displays great murderousness of aim likewise two mine boys from Camborne whose aptitude gives me to think they have handled Muskets before and that by the light of the Moon gathering cock peasants in Tehidy woods. We are this day in from crusing to the westard. I have spoke many ships but they were all English or else plaguey Newtrals. On July 15th at Meridian we spied a suspicious Lugger and gave chase but the Wind being light and the Sea overcast she out sweeps and sweeped from us and escaped in a fog bank. On July 17th we spied a sail hull down to the westard so gave chase. He hauled his wind and went away northerly under a press of Sail. In four glasses I was up with him and he appeared a Frenchman. I therefore fired a gun for him to heave to and ran up the Tri-colour. He also showed the Tri-colour but held his way. I therefore sheered alongside hoisted English colours and gave him a Broadside. At the same time he let fly his broadside and hoisted English colours too. I got my Speaking Trumpet and axed him what the Devil he was after. He replied in very opprobrious Scotch axing me the same. It turned out the brig was a Rochelle vessel prize to H.M. Frigate Garland bound for Plymouth under a Prize Crew. Both ships being French built led to a very natural and laughable Mistake in which there was little damage done the Ghost taking a bruse or two in her topsides and the Prize having one man killed and one wounded. The Prize Master who came abord for a glass of grog says he thinks the French Martiniquemen have sailed and will make Landfall on the Coasts of Spain. He says they are reported to be under strong Escort but that does not affright me for I never knew a convoy yet that was not mostly stragglers. As soon as I have taken water I will sail for the Bay of Biscay. Your tenant Richard Sawle has been suffering from the toothache in consequence of learning to chaw terbacca sailor fashion but is otherwise well though somewhat timid aloft. I have rid myself of one Tippet a printer of Truro a sulking argufying chap overweighted with jaw, I passed him to the Captain of a King’s Sloop here with two bottels of porter and my compliments and he will get his back well scratched with the Cat if he tries any of his argufying tricks there. In his stead I have picked up a Swede seaman (deserter) and a free Negro who was put ashore here with the itch (but is now cured) and can play the drum.

I am sir your humble and obt. servant.

Ortho Penhale (Master)

Ghost, Privateer.

Isles of Scilly,

July 19. 1795.

Thomas Burnadick Esq., Nancarrow House.

Dear Sir,

I have the pleasure to inform you that Success has at last crowned our Efforts. After crusing fruitless for near two months the prizes tumbled in so fast as to be an embarrassment. On Aug. 27 while crusing between Belle Isle and Isle Dieu I fell in with the French dogger, Premier Jugement de Solomon, bound from Nantes to the Mississipi with port, lead shot, Spanish bar iron, knives, Velvet wine, Brandy, beaver hats, silk stockings, candels, linen Handkerchiefs, ruffled shirts, shifts and black pepper. She tried to put back behind the Isle de Ré but I got between her and the shore and fired a Gun whereupon she surrendered. I had no sooner put a Prize Crew abord than a fresh sail was spied bearing W by S. Bidding the Prize follow I stood after her. She proved to be the St. Jean de Bayonne from Newfoundland with fish and she also hauled her Flag upon my firing one gun. Her Master informed me he fully thought I was a French privateer and was never more surprised in his life when he saw English Colours fly to the peak. It being then evening I stood to the westard all night when as Dawn breaks behold there is a big Merchant Bark right upon us! I showed the Tricolour (to which she replied with the same) and passed along her lee unmolested, her Master bawling at me thro’ a Trumpet from the Mizzen Shrouds and all her people with theyr heads over the hammock nettings looking for News of France. I jumped to the rail myself and put my hand to my Ear like I was hard of hearing shouting Kwar? Kwar? (which is french for what? what?) by which stratagem I had good observation of the ship and perceived her to be well manned. Nevertheless I was determined to attempt her being all unsuspected and in an Advantageous position and she having the Appearance of a Rich Vessel so as soon as we had passed clear I hoisted English Colours at the same time wearing under her Quarter and pouring my starbord Broadside into her stern windows. She was so astonished I slashed three Broadsides into her before she could make reply. She then veered giving me a taste of her port guns as she came round. I put my Helm over and crossed her stern again, raking her. She then went away southerly, lasking and I after her playing continuous with my chasers and Yawing from time to time to bring my Bow guns into play while she could make no reply her Stern being nigh battered in and her Stern Chasers dismounted. We continued this way for a glass she driving South out of control and us after her goring her heels like a Dog with a Bullock. At length there was a loud explosion and part of her topside blew out and her stern took fire whereupon she surrendered. She is L’Amiable Coralie of Bordeaux, Martinique to Nantes with coffee, Indigo, St. Domingo cotton, Muscovado sugar and some bags of Ginger. She carried eight guns (9 pounders) and four Quakers (as we call wooden guns) and forty men five of whom was killed and seven wounded. The Ghost has but one Man wounded from a splinter and that not bad and one Boy burnt from a powder flask and that not bad either. I send this by Mr. Rosewarne prize Master who has orders to proceed to Falmouth with the Solomon and the St. Jean. Myself I am following as escort to the Coralie who sails but crank with her Stern being beat in and a jury rudder.

Your humbl and obt Servant.

Ortho Penhale (Master)

Ghost, Privateer,

Off Ushant.

Aug. 29. 1795.

P.S. Shortly after the Coralie struck we heard a great screeching from the water and espied an old Dame clad only in her Night robe floating on a bale of cotton and so pulled her abord. It appears she (a person of consequence) being disturbed by one of my nine pounder shot entering her cabin sprang from bed and took refuge in the ’tween-decks among the cotton Bales. When the powder barl exploded she was blown out thro’ the Hole. All her clothes being destroyed we had nothing to dress her in but the stuff taken from the Solomon which however she took in good part and is now in the Main cabin of the Ghost playing piquet with the Count and Mr. Sheringham the surgeon, dressed in a silk Night Gown, some fine waistcoats, a pair of my breeches and a cambric Night-Cap (having lost her wig) which seeing she is very tall and bony gives her a comical appearance. Her maid however (a small delicate girl, not bad looking) is greatly offended at the mishap and was very sharp with the Count when he was for consoling her (some Women look upon War as so much Nonsense and hold the loss of a 40 Gun Ship as nothing against the loss of a Bonnett) Your tenant, Richard Sawle was much upset at the first discharge and cast himself on deck declaring he was Slain. The Gunner took means to restore him and for the rest of the Action (if so it may be called, though indeed a more one sided affair I was never in) he conducted himself dutiful but pale.

To Mrs. Pheobe Sawle. Widow. Constantine. Cornwall.

Deer Ma.

Yest a few lines hoping you are in good health as I am tho’ I have been in as great Peril as ever a Man saw and was near Slain a Hundred times by canon balls flying round my hed thick as Bes but Thank God I am escaped in good healh wee have been in the Bay of Biscay and have took 3 prizes the first 2 did not shoot but the 3d was roguish I thort I was ded a Hundred times over but did not show Fear and continued Manful thro’ out tho’ often I wood have given all the Fortunes in the wurld to be safe in constantine plowing or sitting at my dinner I wish Jes Trevellow or Paul Maggs or some other of them Big Mouth Fellows up to Church Town cud of been with us they will not talk so brave before me again I will say yes any Cock can crow on his own Dung heap (meaning constantine) but it takes a Game cock to crow on Anothers (meaning the Bay of Biscay) I will not let any of them Stay Homes speak before me now I have been in Bludy Battels and seen the wurld. Capn Penhale has give each man a Beever hat and a ruffld shirt from a Prize a sailer told me we may get 70 pound a man prize Money beside wages so tel Lizzie prowse she had best make up her Mind for when I come home in my Ruffld Shirt and Beever hat with gold in my pocket there will be every Maiden after me and I can pick and chuse. I am sending these few lines by Sol Jackett who is going to Falmouth ahead of wee in a prize your luving son Richard Henry Sawle.

Tell Matt Williams to cut that wescut so as to show my Ruffld Shirt.

To Doctor Benjamin Starbuck. Bread Street. Bristol. England.

Dear Benjamin,

The armed snow John of Chepstow sailing to-morrow for the Avon I take this Opportunity of writing to you. We are in the Port of Bilbao having put in here to replenish water barrels. We have now been out six weeks from Falmouth on this our second cruise and have, so far, been successful in taking two vessels, one of which was of considerable value. A week since, however, we were near taken ourselves being chaced four hours by two powerful French Frigates which approached close upon us on either quarter. To haul to either hand was to fall aboard one of the pursuers, to continue was to crash upon a rock-bound Coast. When night fell a French Prison appeared the sole alternative to a Watery Tomb and it was with melancholy reflections that I contemplated the firey descent of Phœbus. The Captain, however, conceived the Ingenious Stratagem of quickly Stripping our Vessel to her Bare Poles (whereby rendering her the less visible) and setting the Long Boat adrift under a square-sail with a Lantern lashed to her Mast Head. The enemy thinking it to be our Binnacle Light continued the Pursuit, passing us by in the Darkness so close it seemed impossible we should not be discovered. I confess that for myself the Suspense was well-nigh intolerable.

A more admirable Commander in time of Peril than this same Captain (Penhale, by name) I have never met with in my sea experience, resourceful, bold and of a cheerfulness which would seem to encrease in proportion to the Danger in hand and which is a source of the highest Inspiration to all around, yet now is he gone ashore figged out like a Vauxhall Bully-Beau to ogle the Ladies on the gilt balconies or swagger like a common Horse Guard on the Promenade of Los Canos. Human Nature is indeed composed of the strangest Contradictions. Here we have a French emigré Nobleman who kills his countrymen first and weeps upon them afterwards. Who resigns his position as Captain of Marines after every action, yet on being again confronted with the detested Tricolour boards with such ferocity as to appal all beholders. Again there is Mr. Pentacost, the first mate. Yesterday walking on the Arenal we met with a procession of singing children (headed by Clergy) dressed in white and bearing among them the Images of Saints. What should my companion do but remove his Hat and in stentorian tones demand of Almighty God that He should shower down Blazing Brimstone and instantly consume these pretty innocents as Idolaters! Fortunately the crowd mistook his attitude, thinking he was invoking Blessings rather than Thunderbolts. On the other hand this same Pentacost is possessed of an ancient black Dog, much afflicted with Fleas and Mange, on which he lavishes the tenderest affection. This Port of Bilboa is indeed charming and singular. The verdant Hills are embellished with a variety of Plantations, Vineyards and Groves of chestnut trees, interspersed with the Gardens of Country Houses. On the quay of Olavijaja (close to which we lie) a party of young men and Women are dancing the Romeria to the music of Tambourines, illumed by blazing barrels of Whale Oil. The bells of a Nunnery chime sweetly on the night air. All is Peace and harmless Gaiety. To-morrow (alack!) we put to Sea again into the midst of Peril and Sanguinary Strife. Please convey to your sister, Miss Hannah, my Respectful Addresses. Tell her I have her amiable Pursuit in mind and I have culled numerous Blossoms in this vicinity that (to my dire ignorance) appeared rare and I am pressing them, according to her Directions, between the leaves of my Materia Medica.

Believe me always, my dear Benjamin

Your assured Friend

Giles Sheringham (Surgeon).

Ghost privateer

Bilboa. Spain

6th Oct., 1796.

Note. I have found in the case of Amputations cauteries to be less tragical than Astringents tho’ confessedly more severe. Pul Vitriol, Roman is the readiest.

To Mrs. Phebe Sawle, Widow. Constantine. Cornwall. by the John of Chepstow.

Deer Ma

Yest a few Lines hoping you are in good healh as I am. Wee are in bilbore in Spain it is a fine Town bigger nor Falmouth the Men wear hair nets and the Wimmen veils but they have Bright Eyes and walk very proud the Monks are thick as crows. Wee have took 2 more Prizes one of them behaved roguish but wee gave him a rare drubbing for his Pains the new Landsmen wee took abord last time at Falmouth was in a grate Fright thinking they was Slain and pale as Death I cud not help but laff Robt Pascoe of Manaccan was a week overcast with Sea-Sickness I had grate Sport with him he is poor Lubber as wee sailors call Landsmen. I cud not come Home last time wee was in Falmouth no man was let ashore wee was only there one night and day I saw Mawnan Church and Saint Keverne as we sailed by and up helford River to calamansack but cud not see constantine no matter I will be Home a month from now with near 200 pound in my pockett and a Beever Hat tell Lizzie prowse I have bought a Spanish veil for she to wear come feasten your luving son Richard Henry Sawle abord privateer Ghost. Tell Matt Williams I don’t want that westcut as I have bought a Spanish westcut a red one.

To Thomas Burnadick Esq., Nancarrow House. By the prize Jong Vrow Maria Mr. Curnow, prize master.

Dear Sir,

I am sending this by a Dutch prize taken in the early hours of this morning after a sharp Action costing us 3 killed and 8 wounded. She is from Archangel Russia with Wood Ash, Potash, hemp, Salt Fish, 90 bundels Skins and 25 bales Horsehair. I was three days in Bilboa to fill my barrels hardly escaping before War was declared with Spain. We will have the whole World leagued agen us soon. The Biscayners gave us no hindrance, they lament the War being Friendly to us and having a great Detestation of the French. I can say no more now as there is a Sail reported, bearing down. I will be Home to refit at the end of this Month, all being well.

Your obt. Servant

Ortho Penhale (Master)

Ghost privateer.

Off Ferrol

Oct., 11th, 1796.

P.S. I regret to state that your tenant Richard Sawle is among the killed, being struck in the Temple by a Musket Ball. I also regret that his Effects (a few odds and ends of cheap Finery) have been plundered by his Shipmates.