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Cruise off Cadiz—Proceed up the Mediterranean to Egypt after a French squadron under Rear-Admiral Ganteaume, 1801.

In November, 1800, we sailed for Gibraltar. I was much pleased to see the celebrated rock, so well defended by the gallant Elliot in 1782, and to read, on the spot, Colonel Drinkwater’s most amusing history of that famous siege.

As late as the year 1801, the greater part of the garrison was still covered with shot and broken shells, thrown by the Spaniards at that period. They have since been collected, and sold to be melted down for various purposes, some probably to be again converted into missiles of destruction.

We cruised off Cadiz in company with the Dragon, Hector, and Gibraltar, of 74 guns each, until the spring of 1801, detaining the Danish and Swedish vessels, when a French squadron of eight sail of the line (some frigates, and a store ship), having made their escape from Brest, at a time the channel fleet was blown off, passed us in the night, and pushed up the Mediterranean for Toulon, to embark troops for Egypt, to strengthen their force there.

The Mercury (28), Captain Rogers, and the Incendiary (fire-ship), joined us in the morning, and informed us they had been chased by them. Although we had only four sail of the line, no time was lost in proceeding after them; first touching at Gibraltar for provisions, then running over to Marjarine Bay, on the coast of Barbary, for water, and from thence to Port Mahon, to see if chance would send us a reinforcement. There we found the Alexander (74), Captain Sir Alexander Ball, the Généreux (80), not half-manned, and the Harlaem (64), en flute; however, they made a show of strength, and to sea we went in search of the French squadron, under Rear-Admiral Ganteaume, and steered for Toulon. Ill fortune attended us; for in a heavy gale, the Généreux rolled away all her top-masts, and sprung a leak, which caused us to put back to Minorca, with our crippled ships, from which place the above-named ship was never again in a state to accompany us.

The moment the rest of the squadron was ready for sea, our persevering admiral again sailed, and although with one ship less, he ventured to reconnoitre Toulon, where we found the French had also put back damaged, and were apparently employed in refitting. We, therefore, shaped our course for Minorca. On our way thither, to complete our water and provisions, we chased a Spanish convoy into Cadeque, a small port near the entrance of the Bay of Rosas; but the admiral did not think, under existing circumstances, it was worth while risking the loss of lives to attack them, having the prospect of an action with a superior French force in view; we, therefore, returned to Port Mahon to get ready to proceed after the enemy’s fleet in Toulon.

During our stay, we heard that we were to be joined at Malta by His Majesty’s ship Athénienne (64), which was not even coppered, and had only half her complement of men. Having put the ships into as good a state as circumstances would admit, we proceeded to Malta, and there picked up the 64 gun-ship, which completed our ill-conditioned squadron, viz., five good ships of the line, one 64, en flute, and another 64, half-manned, and with no copper on her bottom.

With these ships we went to look for Admiral Ganteaume; and off the island of Maretimo, we fell in with the Salamine brig, of 16 guns, which gave us information that the day before she had been chased by the French squadron, and that by shaping our course to south-east, we should probably see them next morning. What joy ran through the different ships! but, alas! owing to the ill-sailing of our squadron, all our hopes were frustrated. We did, indeed, get sight of them the following day at dawn, far to windward, and by a shift of wind, shortly after brought them right a-head, so that although there were no light airs, by sun-set we could see more than halfway down their courses; yet most of our ships, with the exception of the Hector and Dragon, were very far astern, some hull down. Still, however, we hoped with three good ships of the line to bring their rear to action in the night, and so retard them, that the next day our bad sailing ships might pick up any birds we had winged, while we stood on after the others; but bad fortune attended us, our only frigate, the old Mercury, of 28 guns, sailed so heavily as to be unable to keep them in view. At ten at night, foggy, hazy weather came on, we lost sight of our game, and the next morning the horizon was so obscured that the enemy was no longer to be seen.

What was to be done? We knew Alexandria, or some part of the coast of Egypt, was their destination, and thither we steered. Ganteaume guessed we should follow him thither, and, like a cunning old fox, taking advantage of the hazy night, soon after dark hauled his wind on the starboard tack, and doubled round us; therefore, at daylight, in consequence of the very thick state of the atmosphere preventing our seeing him, we preceded him to the coast of Egypt, while he shaped his course for Cape Derne Head, and tried to land his troops a little to the westward of Alexandria; but the few that attempted it were soon murdered by the Arabs, and he, not feeling himself quite at his ease for fear of our again meeting him, returned back to Toulon to refit. After taking in water and provisions, he once more proceeded to the coast of Egypt, and although he did not land his men, picked up His Majesty’s ship Swiftsure (74), Captain Ben. Hallowell, who was obliged to surrender, after a gallant defence, and took his prize safe into the harbour of Toulon.

In the meantime we kept on our course for Alexandria, and at the end of March arrived off there, and joined the fleet of Lord Keith. Here a sad and heavy affliction awaited our amiable admiral. The first news was, that our gallant army had landed on the 8th, and that his brave, handsome, and only son, who belonged to the Coldstream Guards, had been killed on landing. He bore his loss with the resignation of a Christian, but with the feelings of a father.

Having remained off Alexandria for a few weeks, Lord Keith detached us in search of our old friend Ganteaume, but first of all taking away one of our best ships, the Hector (74), and giving us in lieu the Stately (64), en flute, a Turkish 64, and a corvette. During our stay the captain pacha, and other Turkish admirals, came on board on a visit of condolence to our admiral. I recollect he was a very fine-looking man, with a long black beard, and brought his pipe and coffee-cup bearers with him. The mouth of the pipe was set with diamonds, and so were his coffee-cups. Old Tombrook, the captain of the Turkish 64, that sailed with us, was introduced to the admiral, and the captain pacha said that if he did not behave well, Sir John had only to write a note to him, and his head should be taken off immediately on his return to the Turkish fleet; or if the admiral preferred it, he would send an executioner on purpose to decapitate Captain Tombrook, and lay his head at Sir John B. Warren’s feet.

We left Alexandria the beginning of May, and sailed for Coron, in the Morea, to procure wood, water, and fresh provisions, of which we stood very much in need, the scurvy having begun to make its appearance from our long continuance at sea upon bad salt and other food of the worst quality. The bread was full of maggots and weevils, the flour musty, and swarming with insects, the water so putrid, thick and stinking, that often have I held my nose with my hand while I drank it strained through my pocket handkerchief; and we were so short of this necessary article, that our consumption was limited to two pints a day for all purposes. Provisions, at the time I am speaking of, were not like those supplied now-a-days from Her Majesty’s stores; everything then was done by an infamous job contract; government paid through thick and thin for everything, and we poor devils had to suffer in consequence of the neglect of those persons under government winking at the nefarious jobs of contractors, and no doubt they had weighty reasons for so doing.

I recollect, in a mid’s berth, we used to ask what such-and-such a county was famous for. Suffolk, in our black book, was put down as famous for supplying the navy with rotten and bad cheese. Burgoo was served out with treacle for breakfast, instead of nice wholesome cocoa and sugar; and will it be believed, that until the peace of 1802, French merchants had a contract for supplying the British Navy with French brandy, while our West Indian merchants knew not what to do with their rum and cocoa! At last John Bull awoke from his dream, and it struck him that soldiers and sailors liked rum just as well as brandy, and that by giving them cocoa for breakfast it would not only assist the West Indian merchants, but give general satisfaction throughout the fleet.

I take this opportunity of mentioning the night-blindness which seized several of our ship’s company after dark. It came on immediately it began to grow dusk. First we thought it was sham, in order to skulk from their watches, but we soon found it was not the case. The men were first attacked off Egypt, and it was supposed it was occasioned by the heavy dews. I have since been informed that it frequently occurs in tropical climates.

We remained at Coron ten days, getting supplies; but gained no intelligence of the French squadron, though the Turkish corvette had been despatched for that purpose, to make enquiries at the different out-ports. On her return, we sailed for Malta, where the Christian slaves, on board the two Turkish men-of-war, were liberated on our arrival, to the great joy of the Maltese. Having refitted, we proceeded to Port Mahon, and from thence to cruise off Toulon. On our passage, we had most severe thunder and lightning, which struck the Dragon and ourselves, indeed, all the squadron more or less; the former’s main-mast was injured, and our mizen-top-gallant-mast was dashed to atoms, the top-mast shaken into laths, the mizen-mast set on fire, and the few tin and iron pots and pans, we mids had in the gun-room, were every one perforated in the same manner, as if a musket-ball had been fired through them. The lightning then providentially took a direction out of one of the gun-room ports, and escaped; several men on board both ships were much scorched, and one man in the Dragon killed. If the Renown had been one of the old 74’s, whose mizen-mast stepped in the after magazine, she must have been blown up; but, fortunately, her’s stepped in the gun-room. We stood on for the Gulf of Lyons, and looked into Toulon, and there saw the French ships lying with their prize, the Swiftsure, some of the ships stripped, one with her main-mast out, and no chance of their putting to sea again for some time. We, therefore, proceeded to the Island of Elba, and on our way fell in with two French frigates, and chased them into Leghorn; the Stately (64), en flute, got pretty near them, but they slipped through her fingers. One named the Success, of 32 guns, formerly British, captured by the French squadron, under Rear-Admiral Ganteaume, on his passage from Brest to Toulon, a few months before, was afterwards taken by the Minerve (36), Captain Cockburn, and Phœnix (32), Captain Halstead, and they drove the Bravoure (44) on shore near Leghorn, and destroyed her. We then went to endeavour to relieve the garrison of Porto Ferajo, which was closely besieged by the French, and a sortie was agreed upon by the garrison. The intention was to turn the enemy’s works, and destroy his batteries, and a party of sailors and marines were landed to assist at the attack; but the troops from Porto Ferajo, being all foreigners, in our pay, composed of Swiss and Germans, did not know us nor we them. All parties met in the dark, and hearing these people talk French, our men fired upon them, and they upon us. The sortie never reached its destination—Johnny Crapaud was not to be caught napping—our expedition partly failed in its object; Captain Long, of His Majesty’s brig Vincego, was killed. “Sauve qui peut” was the order of the day, and a pell-mell retreat to the boats became necessary. Followed by the French, several were killed, wounded, and taken prisoners, and some shot in the water, trying to swim off to the boats. A few days after, the following ludicrous song appeared on board, to the tune of “Vinegar Hill”:—

“Pray were you at Elba races?

Were you there in the morning?

Some were picking of grapes,[D]

Some were drinking of wine,

And some were running away,

And singing out, ‘Oh! rare Elba races.’”

We then returned to Minorca to get more troops; but shortly after our arrival, a French man-of-war brig, from Toulon, came into the roads, with despatches, to inform us the preliminary treaty of peace had been signed at Amiens.

While we remained at Minorca, we lost our captain of marines (Burns), a very worthy man. His death was singular. A vessel, a few weeks after the arrival of the French brig, came from England, confirming the news from France, with an order to cease hostilities; also bringing letters and papers. It was one in the morning when the news came. Poor Burns got up quite well, and sat laughing and talking, and hearing the news from old England, and saying what he should do when he got upon half-pay; called for a glass of cold water, which he drank off, and laid down in his cot again; the cramp seized him in his stomach, and in five minutes he was a corpse. He was much beloved in the ship, full of humour, and a kind-hearted pleasant man. He was buried with military honours at Port Mahon, all the officers of the ship, and many of the squadron, attending his funeral.