Part 23

It was at this crisis that the Government called on the different counties to take steps for the defence of the kingdom, and a meeting of magistrates was called by Lord Fortescue, the Lord Lieutenant, and presided over by the High Sheriff, J. S. Pode, Esq., on the 22nd April, 1794. 1795, 7th January, returns showed two troops of cavalry and twenty-three companies of infantry to have been raised and equipped by subscription. March 23rd, the Lord Lieutenant, Earl Fortescue, ordered monthly returns from each corps. 7th April, 1795, the twelve corps in the eastern part of the county were formed into a battalion, under Col. Mackenzie. 2nd June, Colonel Orchard, of Hartland Abbey, reported that he had inspected his own regiment, viz., corps at Fremington, Westleigh, Northam, Hartland, and two companies at Bideford. This appears to be the six western companies of the north battalion. 1796 returns showed two troops of cavalry, twenty-two companies of infantry—1,651 men. In this year an attempt was made by the French to land in Bantry Bay, which, however, failed, and the expedition was glad to get back to Brest, with the loss of four ships of the line and eight frigates. Early in 1797, another expedition, under Tate, appeared in the Bristol Channel, off Ilfracombe, with the intention of burning Bristol. The North Devon Volunteers turned out with great zeal, and were prepared to dispute the landing on their coast. The French, however, turned northward and landed in Wales, where they soon surrendered to a far inferior force of militia, yeomanry, and volunteers, commanded by Lord Cawdor, and supported by a reserve of Welsh women in red cloaks. 1798 saw the nation in the most serious crisis of its history. The French Directory having made terms with the European powers, were able to turn all their attention to the invasion and conquest of the British Isles. Former expeditions were designed to stir up the disloyal and assist them to overthrow the Government, but now a French army was to land on our shores. The Spanish and Dutch fleets had been pressed into the French service, but British courage and seamanship had effectually disposed of them in the great naval battles of St. Vincent and Camperdown. Nevertheless, an army was organized, named the Army of England, and distributed along the French coast in readiness for embarkation. Flat-bottomed boats were prepared for landing troops and for service on our rivers. The bankers of Paris were called upon to advance a loan on the security of English property. The greatest calamity, however, was a general mutiny in the Channel Fleet at the Nore, which expelled their officers, elected their own admiral and captains, hoisted the red flag, and blockaded the mouth of the Thames; they seriously discussed the expediency of making the whole over to the French. If England could not depend on her fleet she must fall. Had not prompt measures been taken and the mutiny quelled, invasion on a large scale would certainly have taken place. To add to these troubles a formidable rebellion broke out in Ireland, and its leaders arranged for the support of the French army, under Hocke, a general of great experience. A brigade of 1,000 men actually landed in Ireland, under General Humbert, beat the local troops, and advanced into the country, but were compelled to surrender to Lord Cornwallis; and Admiral Warren caught a French fleet with 3,000 troops on their way to support them, and only one of the nine ships returned to France. Such being the state of public affairs, it cannot be denied that our great grandparents had good grounds for alarm. There is hardly a district or family in Devon but has some tradition of that period. Nervous people were afraid to take off their clothes at night. Old gentlemen provided themselves with hollow walking-sticks filled with guineas to carry with them in their flight. At Totnes my great-grandfather’s family permanently engaged a post-chaise in which the women and children might escape to Bristol; the family plate was packed ready to be taken off, and a belt of guineas provided. The schoolboys enjoyed it, for there was no school, as the seniors were too much engaged in obtaining and discussing news to attend to them. The saying still exists at Totnes, “Going to Paignton to meet the French,” for “meeting trouble half-way.” Beacon fires were prepared to spread the news of any landing. A story is told of a tramp at Dawlish who, in lighting his pipe, set a hay rick on fire; the watchers at the nearest beacon took it for a signal of an invasion, and lighted their fires, which were answered in every direction, and the people sprang to arms until “That time of slumber was as bright and busy as the day.” One old sailor, however, had his wits about him, when his daughter shook him out of a deep sleep with the news that the French had landed. Rubbing his eyes, he told her to go and look at the weather-cock. She came back saying the wind was from the north. “I thought so,” said he, “and so it was yesterday. The French can’t land with this wind.” And so the ancient mariner turned round and went to sleep again.

The next place in the history of volunteers was the extension of the area of their service. Up to this date the condition of service was confined to the county of Devon, and in the case of the early Exeter corps to the defence of the city only. The military authorities saw the impossibility of mobilising the volunteers, even to a small extent, who had enlisted under these conditions. The County Committee were, therefore, instructed to accept no offers except for service throughout the military district. It was, however, ultimately arranged for all volunteers to accept the new conditions, but cities or large towns should be allowed to maintain a local corps composed of respectable householders only, to aid the civil power to protect property. Most of the corps appear to have been willing to extend their services to the military district. In January, 1799, it was resolved that no further offers should be accepted. Each parish was required to appoint a man and horse to act as guide. The battle of the Nile and the extinction of the Irish rebellion seem to have quieted men’s minds for a time. But in April Devonshire was again astir, for the Committee of Secrecy of the House of Commons reported that undoubted intelligence had been received that plans of an invasion and insurrection in Ireland were being made in France. That the utmost diligence was being observed in the ports of France in preparing another expedition to co-operate with the rebels in Ireland, that it was intended at the same time to land a French force at different parts of the coast. That the instructions to Tate, who was taken prisoner in Wales in 1797, and those of General Humbert, who landed in Ireland, and who had been destined to command an expedition against Cornwall, had fallen into the hands of the Government, and were as follows:—The legion was to land in Cornwall and to cross the Tamar as quickly as possible, and to establish itself in the district between it and the Exe, or, as we should say, in the South Hams. The “passes and mountains” (Dartmoor) would afford an easy and safe retreat from the pursuit of the enemy. Thus Dartmoor was selected both by the French Directory and by the English officers for a place of refuge. There, indeed, in the Dartmoor prisons, many French soldiers and sailors were destined to find a safe retreat.

But as time went on, and no invasion took place, things became quieter; the Defence Committee seldom met; the volunteers, however, continued to drill and to hold reviews.

In 1801, the separate corps were consolidated into battalions and regiments. The two 1st Devon troops of cavalry, with those at Bicton, Tiverton, and Cullompton, united in the “Royal 1st Devon Yeomanry Cavalry,” under Lord Rolle as Colonel, Sir Stafford Northcote as Lieutenant-Colonel. The North Devon Corps of Infantry became the 3rd North Devon Regiment, under Lieutenant-Colonel Fortescue. The Loyal Exminster Hundred Regiment of Volunteers, under Lord Courtenay, was similarly formed. In 1802 came the “Peace of Amiens,” or, as it is frequently called, the “Cloamen Peace.” It was a fragile, patched up affair, by which Bonaparte gained breathing time. “It was a peace everyone was glad of and nobody proud of.” Volunteer affairs became quiet, many corps were disbanded, among them the Ashburton Sergebacks. Old soldiers were discharged from the line regiments, and militiamen sent to their homes.

In May, 1803, Bonaparte suddenly declared war, and then, as Emperor, prepared in earnest to invade England. A camp of 100,000 men was formed on the cliffs at Boulogne, and a host of flat-bottomed boats gathered for their conveyance across the Channel. At last the Emperor Napoleon appeared in camp; all was ready. “_Let us be masters of the Channel for six hours_,” he is reported to have said, “_and we are masters of the world._” But he never was able to be master of the Channel for six hours. The army waited and drilled, the old Bayeaux tapestry, which illustrates the conquest of England by William of Normandy, was searched out to create enthusiasm, and show what had once been done; all kinds of schemes were resorted to to obtain the naval assistance of other nations, and with success, for the Spanish fleet joined him. Still, the English fleet, under Lord Nelson, held the Channel, but any accident might give the six hours’ mastery, and so England had to be prepared. The County Defence Committee again assumed the direction of affairs. The arrangements made in 1798 were once more put in force. It was in 1803 that the Haytor Regiment was formed, and commanded by Lord Seymour; it was 1,000 strong, with 250 artillery attached, and appears to have been made up of all the volunteers in the Haytor Hundred with those of several towns and parishes adjoining. Newton Abbot was the headquarters, where Captain Babb, afterwards Lieutenant-Colonel Babb, was captain. In the former arming of 1798 Ashburton had formed the 9th Devon Corps, under Captain Walter Palk; they had clothed themselves with local-made serge, and so gained the name of Sergebacks; they were disbanded at the Peace of Amiens, but now again formed and became a company in the Haytor Regiment, under Captain Tozer. Bridgetown, being in Berry Pomeroy parish, also was in the Haytor district. Mr. Milford Windeatt, a relative of the present Captain Windeatt, held a commission in the Haytor Corps. Totnes, however, formed a separate corps, being in the Stanborough Hundred, as did also Highweek, Kingsteignton, Chudleigh, and Bovey Tracey, which were in Teignbridge. The Stanborough Regiment, in which Kingsbridge formed a part, was connected with Plymouth. Torquay, Paignton, and Brixham supplied artillery men under Colonel Cary, of Tor Abbey. For the protection of Tor Bay the authorities garrisoned Berry Head, which, being in the Haytor Hundred, was committed to a detachment of the regiment under Colonel Cary. Many stories remain of this period of service. I cannot say how long the volunteers were out; probably they relieved each other. One story frequently told was of the French fire-ships, for which they were on the lookout, to be sent among the fleet in the bay, and which caused much stir. One night, as the full moon rose red and fiery out of the sea, the sentry at the headland, who had come from an inland parish, mistook it for a fire ship, discharged his musket, and aroused the garrison. The uniform was similar to the line regiments of the period, viz., scarlet swallow-tailed coats, turned out with yellow, blue-black breeches, white cross belts, with a brass plate having Haytor Regiment thereon; the pouches were black, the buttons had H.V.R. (Haytor Volunteer Regiment); officers wore cocked hats, others tall shakoes. The regiment assembled for field days and drill at various points in the district. Lord Clifford has a plan of a sham fight on Bovey-heathfield, but the movements appear to have been very simple. Lieutenant-Colonel Babb, whose tablet is in Wolborough Church, Newton Abbot, commanded the regiment at one time. On 21st October, 1805, Lord Nelson caught the combined French and Spanish fleet off Cape Trafalgar. His last and famous signal, “England expects every man to do his duty,” was observed and obeyed, and although he fell in the hour of victory, twenty battleships had struck their flags ere the day was done. Pitt explained, in his last public words, “England has saved herself by her courage; she will save England by her example.” The crisis had again passed, England could breathe freely once more, still the volunteers were kept enrolled for a time. The Haytors were disbanded about 1809, and the old colours laid up in Wolborough Church until time had consumed them. The time of peace continued for about forty years, until the Crimean War, in 1853, left the country almost without troops to garrison her arsenals. Then several Volunteer corps were raised, among them the “Exeter and South Devon,” under Colonel Sir Edmund Prideaux. At the peace in 1856 it was not disbanded, but remained embodied until the memorable circular of 12th May, 1859, in which the Secretary of State for War suggested the formation of Volunteer corps throughout the country as a means of preventing the frequent war scares caused by the uncertain actions of the French under Napoleon III. The Exeter corps then became the first in the kingdom, and through them Devonshire stands at the top in the precedence of the counties. On 24th May, 1859, the Plymouth corps was formed, but the date of its acceptance was later on. The movement had life because it was in accordance with the feelings of the people, which was shown by almost every town in Devon holding meetings for the purpose of forming corps, and persons of every social position offered their services, and in a large proportion undertook their own outfits. These offers were mostly accepted by Her Majesty; each corps became an independent body, and was numbered in the order in which they were accepted, but joined into administrative battalions for drill purposes. In 1880, the administrative battalions were consolidated into corps, which in 1885 were incorporated as volunteer battalions of the county regiment, of which they have since formed a part, and in the South African war sent two companies, fully officered and equipped, to the front. This brings us to the eve of the proposed changes in the constitution of our army and military system, and possibly the close of the volunteer system as we have known it.

“The brave old men of Devonshire! ’Tis worth the world to stand, As Devon’s sons, on Devon’s soil, Though juniors of the band; And tell Old England to her ace, If she is great in fame, ’Twas good old hearts of Devon oak That made her glorious name.” P. F. S. AMERY.

JACK RATTENBURY, THE ROB ROY OF THE WEST.

BY MAXWELL ADAMS.

John Rattenbury—or, as he is commonly called, the “Rob Roy of the West”—was born at Beer in 1788. His father was a shoemaker by trade, but before his son John was born, he went to sea on board a man-of-war, and was never again heard of. His mother supported herself by selling fish, while Jack was allowed to run wild, spending his time chiefly at the water-side, where he acquired a taste for the sea and for those daring adventures which made him subsequently so notorious. When about nine years of age, he induced his uncle, who was a fisherman, to take him with him in his fishing expeditions. This was the beginning of his sea training, and continued for some time, until one day, being left in charge of the boat, while his uncle was on shore at Lyme, he lost her rudder. For this negligence his uncle chastised him with a rope’s end, whereupon a separation ensued. Jack then joined a Brixham fisherman as an apprentice, but after a space of twelve months, finding this occupation uncongenial, he engaged himself to the master of a coasting vessel of Bridport, trading between that port and Dartmouth.

About this time war broke out between England and France, and fearing the press-gang, he returned to Beer. There he found his uncle engaged in collecting men for privateering, an enterprise which appealed to his roving spirit, and joining the crew, he, with twenty-two others, was conveyed to Torquay and put on board the _Dover_, commanded by Captain Matthews. In due course the _Dover_ was ready for sea, and in March, 1792, started for her first cruise off the Western Islands. He thus describes his feelings on this occasion:—

And even now, notwithstanding the lapse of years, I can recall the triumph and exultation which rushed through my veins, as I saw the shores of my native country recede, and the vast ocean opening before me; I was like a bird which had escaped from the confinement of the cage, and obtained the liberty after which it panted. I thought on some who had risen from the lowest to the highest posts, from the cabin boy to the admiral’s flag. I wished to make a figure on the stage of life, and my hopes and expectations were restless and boundless, like the element around me.

The privateering enterprise, however, does not appear to have been very successful. After cruising about the Western Islands for several weeks without meeting with any adventure worth relating, the _Dover_ at last fell in with three American merchant ships laden with French goods, but as their commanders contended that they were not lawful prizes, they were allowed to go. It transpired later on that these very vessels were afterwards taken by an English cruiser. Not long after, the _Dover_ was captured by a French ship, and the crew, including John Rattenbury, were taken to Bordeaux and confined in the prison of that place. He does not appear to have been badly treated by his jailers, and he was allowed a certain amount of liberty, which enabled him to make the acquaintance of the master of an American vessel, then lying in Bordeaux harbour, Captain Prowse by name, who, taking a liking to the lad, allowed him to conceal himself on board his ship. It was, however, more than twelve months before the vessel was allowed to leave the port in consequence of an embargo on all foreign shipping, when, having taken in a cargo of wine, etc., it was cleared for New York, which port was reached after a passage of forty-five days. Here Rattenbury engaged himself as cook and cabin boy on board a ship sailing for Havre de Grâce. On arrival there he was anxious to get home again. He therefore transferred himself to an American merchantman belonging to Boston named the _Grand Turk_, bound for London, as he supposed, but much to his disappointment it proceeded to Copenhagen instead. He returned in her to Havre de Grâce, and thence after sundry adventures found himself in Guernsey, where, to his delight, he met his uncle, who took him back to Beer.

He was now sixteen years of age, and remained quietly at home for six months, part of which time he spent in fishing. After the roving life he had led, he found this occupation most uncongenial, and the smuggling trade, which was then being plied very briskly in the neighbourhood, offering great inducements, he determined to try his fortune at it. He accordingly joined a vessel engaged in this trade between Lyme and the Channel Islands, but after four months he engaged on another vessel, the _Friends_, a brig, commanded by Captain Jarvis. While in Tenby harbour she was captured by a French privateer. He thus narrates the incident:—

At eight o’clock the captain set the watch, and it was my turn to remain below; at twelve I went on deck, and continued till four, when I went below again, but was scarcely dropped asleep when I was aroused by hearing the captain exclaim, “Come on deck, my good fellow! here is a privateer, and we shall all be taken.” When I got up, I found the privateer close alongside of us. The captain hailed us in English, and asked us from what port we came and where we were bound. Our captain told the exact truth, and he then sent a boat with an officer in her, to take all hands on board his own vessel, which he did, except myself and a little boy, who had never been to sea before. He then sent his prize-master and four men on board our brig, with orders to take her into the nearest French port. When the privateer was gone, the prize-master ordered me to go aloft and loose the main-top-gallant sail. When I came down I perceived that he was steering very wildly, through ignorance of the coast, and I offered to take the helm, to which he consented, and directed me to steer south-east by south. He then went below and was engaged in carousing with his companions. They likewise sent me up a glass of grog occasionally, which animated my spirits, and I began to conceive a hope not only of escaping, but also of being revenged on the enemy. A fog, too, came on, which befriended the design I had in view. I therefore altered the course to east by north, expecting that we might fall in with some English vessel. As the day advanced, the fog gradually dispersed, and the sky getting clearer, we could perceive land. The prize-master and his companions asked me what land it was; I told them it was Alderney, which they believed, though at the same time we were just off Portland. We then hauled our wind more to the south until we cleared the Bill of the Island. Soon after we came in sight of land off St. Alban’s. The prize-master then again asked what land it was which we saw; I told him it was Cape la Hogue. My companions then became suspicious and angry, thinking I had deceived them, and they took a dog that had belonged to our captain and threw him overboard in a great rage, and knocked down his house. This I supposed to be done as a caution, and to intimate to me what would be my own fate if I had deceived them. We were now within a league of Swanage, and I persuaded them to go ashore to get a pilot. They then hoisted out a boat, into which I got with three of them, not without serious apprehension as to what would be the event; but hope animated, and my fortunate genius urged me on. We now came so near shore that the people hailed us, and told us to keep further west. My companions now began to swear, and said the people spoke English; this I denied, and urged them to hail again; but as they were rising to do so, I plunged overboard, and came up the other side of the boat. They then struck me with their oars, and snapped a pistol at me; but it missed fire. I still continued swimming, and every time they attempted to strike me, I made a dive and disappeared. The boat in which they were now took in water, and finding they were in a vain pursuit and endangering their own lives and safety, with little chance of being able to overtake me, they suddenly turned round and rowed away as fast as possible to regain the vessel. Having got rid of my foes, I put forth all my efforts to get to the shore, which I at last accomplished, though with great difficulty. In the meantime the men in the boat reached the brig, and spreading all their canvas, bore away for the French coast. Being afraid that they would get off with the vessel, I immediately sent two men, one to the signal-house at St. Alban’s and another to Swanage, to obtain all the assistance they could to bring her back.