Part 16
‘To the top, to the top, my little cabin-boy, to the mizen-top-mast-head so high, And spread abroad St. George’s flag, for under that we live or die.’ O then bespoke our gunner bold, and a well bespoken man was he, ‘Swab your guns, brave boys, while they’re hot, for powder and ball you shall have free.’
‘Keep aluff, keep aluff;’ says the master’s mate, ‘keep aluff, whilst that you may. We’l fight it out like English boys; it ne’er shall be said we run away.’ So to it we went like lions bold, as enemies do when they meet; We fought from twelve to sun-rising, and spared but one sail of their fleet.
O three we burnt, and three we sunk, and the other three run away; And one we brought to old England, to shew them we had won the day. All you that know our gallant ship, and want to know our captain’s name, It is Captain Mansfield of Bristol Town, and the _Marygold_, a ship of fame.
_THE ALGIERS SLAVE’S RELEASEMENT; OR, THE UNCHANGEABLE BOAT-SWAIN._
No pain like the Jayl of Love, nor no such torments found To those that loyal mean to prove, whose loves are firm and sound. This loyal person ne’r would change; like a true lover he Indur’d his fetters and his chains, and Betty’s captive be.
To the Tune of _Awake, oh my Cloris!_
Of a constant young seaman a story I’le tell, That I hope all true lovers will please very well; All his cry was still, ‘Though I continue a slave, Yet the want of my dear is far worse than a grave.
‘All the tedious long night in close prison I lye, But methinks I behold my dear love lying by; In the midst of my pains this doth still give me ease: That is pleasant to me, which some call a disease.
‘Sometimes to the gallies I’m forced to go, Though amongst all my fellows like a slave I do row; And when I am spent with this labour and pain The thoughts of my love doth revive me again.
‘And when with strappadoes sometimes I do meet, I find little pain, if I think on my sweet; Thus ’twixt pleasure and pain my time I do spend, Yet vow to be constant unto my life’s end.
‘No torture nor pain shall make me forsake Nor flye from my reason for my Betty’s sake; I do slight all the torments bestow’d by the Turk When I think on my dear, and in gallies do work.
‘But [tho’] a renegado to make me they strive, I’le never consent to ‘t whilst I am alive, But will a couragious true Protestant be: I’le be true to my faith and be constant to thee.
‘Ah, Betty, when billows do rage and do roar For want of thy sight I am troubled sore: Whilst other are troubled with terror and fear, Yet I am cheer’d up with the thought of my dear.
‘No prison is like to the want of thy sight, Which locks up my bliss, for thou art my delight: Though distant I am, therefore only opprest, Yet still my dear Betty doth lodge in my breast.
‘In the midst of my sorrows, whilst others do mourn, ’Tis the want of my love that doth make me forlorn; Yet [I] would not enjoy thee in this cursed place, Though for want of thy love my tears trickle apace.
‘But be of good cheer, for every one knows ’Tis an ill wind indeed that no comfort blows; And again I do hope thee in England to see, Then who’l be so happy as Betty and me?
‘And now, thorough Providence, I am return’d: By shipwrack I ’scap’d, for our ship it was burn’d; No torment like mine was when I was a slave, For the want of my Betty was worse than a grave.’
_THE BENJAMIN’S LAMENTATION FOR THEIR SAD LOSS AT SEA BY STORMS AND TEMPESTS:_
Being a brief narrative of one of his Majestie’s ships called the Benjamin, that was drove into harbour at Plymouth, and received no small harm by this tempest.
To the Tune of _The Poor Benjamin_.
Captain Chilver’s gone to sea, _I, boys, O boys!_ With all his company, I! Captain Chilver’s gone to sea, With all his company, _In the brave Benjamin, O!_
Thirty guns this ship did bear, _I, boys, O boys!_ They were bound for Venice fair, I! Thirty guns this ship did bear, And a hundred men so clear, _In the brave Benjamin, O!_
But by ill storms at sea, _I, boys, O boys!_ Which bred our misery, I! But by ill storms at sea Were drove out o’ th’ way _In the brave Benjamin, O!_
We had more wind than we could bear, _I, boys, O boys!_ Our ship it would not steer, I! We had more wind than we could bear, Our masts and sails did tear _In the brave Benjamin, O!_
The first harm that we had, _I, boys, O boys!_ It makes my heart so sad, I! The first harm that we had We lost our fore-mast head: _O the poor Benjamin, O!_
The seas aloud did roar, _I, boys, O boys!_ We being far from shore, I! The sea no favour shows Unto friends nor foes, _O the poor Benjamin, O!_
The next harm that we spy’d, _I, boys, O boys!_ Then we to Heaven cry’d, I! Down fell our main-mast head, Which struck our senses dead _In the poor Benjamin, O!_
Then we with seas were crost, _I, boys, O boys!_ And on the ocean tost, I! Thus we with seas was tost, Many a brave man was lost _In the brave Benjamin, O!_
The next harm that we had, _I, boys, O boys!_ We had cause to be sad, I! The next harm that we had We lost four men from the yard _In the poor Benjamin, O!_
Disabled as I name, _I, boys, O boys!_ We were drove on the main, I! So the next harm we had We lost our rudder’s head _In the poor Benjamin, O!_
Then we fell all to prayer, _I, boys, O boys!_ The Lord our lives would spare, I! Then we fell all to prayer, And He at last did hear _Us in the Benjamin, O!_
Although we sail’d in fear, _I, boys, O boys!_ The Lord our ship did steer, I! Our prayers so fervent were That we had passage clear _Into brave Plimouth Sound, O!_
We came in Plimouth Sound, _I, boys, O boys!_ Our hearts did then resound, I! When we came to Plymouth Sound Our grief with joy was crown’d _In the poor Benjamin, O!_
When we came all on shore, _I, boys, O boys!_ Every man at his dore, I! When we came all on shore Our grief we did deplore _In the poor Benjamin, O!_
You gallant young men all, _I, boys, O boys!_ ’Tis unto you I call, I! Likewise brave seamen all, Lament the loss and fall _Of the poor Benjamin, O!_
_THE TREACHERY OF THE SPANIARDS OF PORTO RICO TO THE DARTMOUTH FRIGOT AND HER COMPANY._
(‘Composed by Hovenden Walker on board the Dartmouth.’--MS. Note, by Pepys.)
When the Dartmouth friggot lay off the town That’s call’d Porto Rico, of some renown, The captain sent thither to know if he cou’d Come peaceably in for water and wood. They answered we were welcome there, And might venture in without all fear And said it should be their only care Whatever we wanted to prepare.
On the governor’s promised honour then We took up the pilot, who carry’d us in. We rid undisturbed and safe all the night, Nor smoak’d any cheat till the morning’s light Discovered their base and d[amned] intent; For when to the wat’ring place we went We were seiz’d and into prison sent; And then we found out what ’twas they meant.
Quoth the governor, ‘Now you shall ne’re be free Till I your commissions and orders do see; For your ship is become a forfeiture, And I’le sink her if she but dares to stirr: For here my guns can command you all. If she goes not where I say shee shall I’le batter her sides with my iron ball From every fort and the city wall.’
The council was call’d, and demurely they sate, To manage the business by grave debate: The bald-pated rascals (as if they were full Of politick tricks) did squint and look dull, Yet knew not what to doe in the case; They could hardly look us in the face, Their action was so openly base, And guilt made ’em conscious of their digrace,
Till the Don cry’d out to the grey-bearded knaves, ‘We’ve now got a parcel of brawny slaves, With provision enough to furnish the town; For (unless we are fools) the ship is our own: And since they are in, we’ll make ’em sure, Our harbour’s mouth is the prison door. Take my advice, and I will secure They never shall goe to sea any more.
‘And because that the ship is under command, Nor can they the force of our walls withstand, Wee’ll suffer these silly poltroons to go free, For their friggot thereby gets no libertie: But I’le order them to goe where I Will maul ’em with more conveniency, Or where upon the shoals they may ly, And then they may bid their ship good-by.’
The business they had consulted so well, They sent us away, and sent one to tell That if our commander refus’d to obey, And didn’t immediately order to weigh, And further within the harbour sail, For certain then that he would not fail To send some bullets to ferk our t[ail], And those would be words that should prevail.
‘In vain,’ said the captain, ‘you threaten us, sirs, For I value your guns but as barking of currs; Begin when you please, you shall find us to be As brave English hearts as e’re saw the sea. To-morrow I will certainly weigh, And brave all your guns in open day; Maugre whatever you do or say, Your governour’s orders I’le not obey.’
Next day, to decoy us, he cunningly sent A fawning excuse and a complement, And said he would try to dispatch us that day And send us in peace and in safety away; But he had no design in the thing But writing letters unto our King, Which a messenger, he said, should bring Before the sun was near setting.
Our top-sails were loose, and the sheats were haul’d home, We waited all day, but no messenger come. We saw on the shoar the friars so gay, And some were in black, but most were in grey; To ev’ry fort and castle they went; But the Lord in heav’n knowes what they meant, Unless (that it might be their intent) To bless e’ry man, gun, and battlement.
No sooner the fryars were gone to their home But we heard an alarm beat by the drum, And then a command was sent us agen To furl our top-sails and warp further in; And if we didn’t immediately With what the governour said comply, From all his forts he’d let the guns fly, And batter us most confoundedly.
Then straight from the city we plainly could see, The souldiers were marching most hastily, And headed they were by their fat general, To every fort and each castle wall: But we were quite careless all the while, And at their grand folly did only smile, Resolving the Spaniards to beguile And leave ’em without their wish’t-for spoil.
By this time the busie old sun was gone down, And candles were lighting about the town; The commander then cheared his men so brave, And the word for cutting the cable gave, Which was done ith’ twinkling of an eye, And the sails were set as suddenly, Which as soon as e’re they could espy A volley of small shott did let fly.
The warning when every castle had got, They fired on us (like mad) theire great shott; With louder huzzas we answer’d agen, And shew’d ’em that we were true Englishmen; Thus under sail alongst ’em we past, And till convenient we kept all fast; But halloo’d out, nor were agast, And sent a broadside amongst ’em at last.
Thus fireing, and fireing, we held a good space, And gave ’em the go by to their disgrace; Three hours or more continu’d the fight, With fire and smoke, and a very calm night, And tho’ within pistol shott we were, Yet nevertheless we got well clear, Without much hurt or any fear, And to tell you the tale are now come here.
_THE GOLDEN VOYAGE; OR, THE PROSPEROUS ARRIVAL OF THE JAMES AND MARY_,
Who having searched the ocean for treasure, finding the value of two hundred thousand pounds in gold and silver, was joyfully received at the city of London.
To the Tune of _Ladies of London_.
Listen awhile, and I here will unfold what seemeth to promise promotion: There is great plenty of silver and gold now newly took out of the ocean: Forty-three years this treasure has lain since the galion was stav’d asunder Among the scholes and the rocks in the main, yet this may be now the world’s wonder.
It being seventeen leagues from the shore, ’tis wonderful if you do mind it, Many has search’d for this treasure before, but none had the fortune to find it Till the brave _James and Mary_ of fame, whom Fortune hath highly befriended, She most successfully sail’d on the main, and was from all dangers defended.
She was inform’d where this treasure did lye by some that had gi’en information; Therefore some nobles did freely comply, without any more disputation, To fit her forth; this favour they show, it being their free will and pleasure. With a fair gale to the ocean they go, where they find great plenty of treasure.
’Twas in the midst of September they went forth in the brave _James and Mary_, All the ship’s crew with a loyal consent, they being both cheerful and airy; And in short time they there did arrive where they was with rocks so surrounded That they did hardly know how to contrive to keep themselves from being drown[d]ed.
There they was forced some time for to lose, and lye at an anchor together; As for their engine, they then could not use, because of the turbulent weather; Yet at the last to diving they went, where silver and gold they received; When in the water their breath was near spent they were by their engine relieved.
Six weeks together they work’d in the cold, still diving in nine fathom water, Loading their _Mary_ with silver and gold; then up to fair London they brought her, Where they received her with delight, as you may observe by the ditty, And they unloaded her cargo in sight of many brave men of the city.
Carts heavy loaden came through the town, on which the whole multitude gazed; This to the seamen hath purchac’d renown, no question but they may be praised: Still far and near their fame let it ring, and let them be highly commended, Since they did venture so hard in this thing, and was with a blessing attended.
But here is one thing we must not forget: while they were the treasure possessing, On the great rocks they might soon have been split had not Heaven yielded a blessing; Or while they search’d the depth of the main, to hazards they could be no strangers; Yet men and boys came all safe home again, tho’ they had gone through such dangers.
_THE BOATSWAIN’S CALL; OR, THE COURAGIOUS MARRINER’S INVITATION TO ALL HIS BROTHER SAILERS TO FORSAKE FRIENDS AND RELATIONS FOR TO FIGHT IN THE DEFENCE OF THEIR KING AND COUNTRY._
To the Tune of _The Ring of Gold_.
Stout seamen, come away, never be daunted; For if at home you stay, then is it granted The fleet can never be mann’d for the ocean, To fight the enemy and gain promotion.
Lewis, that Christian Turk, makes preparation; His engines are at work in consultation, Thinking to ruin quite all Christian princes; But we their wrongs will right, at life’s expences.
The mighty force of France we never value; For when we once advance we will not dally, But on the ocean wide (through blest permission) We’ll soon subdue their pride and grand ambition.
Therefore with courage bold, boys, let us venture; Like noble hearts of gold now freely enter Your names on board the fleet, all friends forsaking, That we may soon compleat this undertaking.
Is it not that the land might be defended By a victorious hand? tho’ France intended To lay a heavy yoke on a free nation, Boys, let a fatal stroke prove their vexation!
But yet methinks I hear some cowards crying, The press they dread and fear as much as dying, And sculk, like frighted slaves, here in distraction, To hide in dens and caves from warlike action.
Yet some declare they’d fight, but a dear mother, Who counts him her delight above all other, She loves him as her life; parting would grieve her: Another has a wife, he’s loath to leave her.
Thus cowards they can find excuses many To tarry here behind; yet there’s not any Right valiant noble soul heeds a relation, He’ll fight against controul for this his nation.
Has not men wish’d and cry’d, ‘A war with France!’ boys, That on the ocean wide we may advance, boys? To storm and shake their throne, no danger fearing: This still has been their tone oft in my hearing.
Where are those heroes now, those sons of thunder, That would make Lewis bow and bring him under? Your wishes now you have, France is the center; Like seamen stout and brave, boys, freely venture!
In a fight fierce and hot once was I wounded; We receiv’d showrs of shot, being surrounded; Yet I again will go, and scorn to hide me; I’ll face the daring foe, what e’er betide me.
He that has been in fight fears not another; He leaves with much delight father and mother, To embrace those true joys which men admire; We can be merry, boys, in smoak and fire.
If we the conquest gain, that brings promotion; If we by chance are slain, then the wide ocean Shall be our watry tomb, near Neptune’s palace. This, boys, shall be our doom, in spite of malice.
_THE UNDAUNTED SEAMAN_,
Who resolved to fight for his King and country; together with his love’s sorrowful lamentation at their departure.
To the Tune of _I often for my Jenny strove_.
‘My love, I come to take my leave, yet prithee do not sigh and grieve, On the wide ocean I will fight, for to maintain the nation’s right: Under noble chief commanders I resolve to take my chance; _On board I’ll enter, life I’ll venture, to subdue the pride of France_.’
‘My dear,’ said she, ‘be not unkind, I shall no peace nor comfort find; My very heart will break for thee, if thus we must divided be: While thou art with foes surrounded, where the loud-mouth’d cannons roar, _This warlike action breeds distraction, I shall never see you more_.’
‘Let no such fear attend my dear, I hope to be as safe as here; For King and country’s good I’ll stand, and vow to fight with heart and hand. None but cowards fear to venture, freely will I take my chance; _On board I’ll enter, life I’ll venture, to subdue the pride of France_.’
The youthful damsel then did cry, ‘I’ll part with gold and silver too, Another person to employ, that may be better spared than you. Never shall I be contented while you leave your native shore _This warlike action breeds distraction, I shall never see you more_.’
‘My dear, all hazards will I run, methinks the work cannot be done Except I do in person go to face that perjur’d potent foe: We have warlike sons of thunder, which will valiantly advance _To the wide ocean for promotion and to check the pride of France_.
‘My dear, the royal English fleet, with the Dutch navy, will compleate The work which fairly is begun: we fear not but Monsieur will run; For we’ll drive the rogues before us, teach them such an English dance: _While they retire, still we’ll fire, check the growing pride of France_.’
With sighs and tears this damsel said, ‘If you resolve to go to sea, In sailor’s robes I’ll be array’d and freely go along with thee; Life and fortune I will venture rather than to stay on shore: _Grief will oppress me, and possess me, that I ne’er shall see thee more_.’
Said he, ‘My dearest, stay on land, such idle fancies ne’er pursue; Thy soft and tender milk-white hand [a]seaman’s labour cannot do: Here I leave both gold and treasure to maintain my dear on shore.’ _But still she crying, and replying, ‘I shall never see thee more!’_
‘Thy gold’s no more than dross to me, alas! my heart is sunk full low, The want of thy sweet company will surely prove my overthrow: Therefore, dearest, do not leave me, here tormented on the shore; _Let us not sever, love, for ever, lest I ne’er shall see thee more!_’
Tho’ bitterly she did complain, her sighs and tears were all in vain; He would not suffer her to go, so many cares and griefs to know: But with sweet salutes they parted; she was left with tears on shore; _Here often crying, and replying, ‘I shall never see him more!’_
_THE SEA-MAN’S ADIEU TO HIS DEAR._
This man was prest to serve upon the seas, Which did his dearest very much displease; She importuned the captain on her knee, And proffered gold to have her love set free; But all would not prevail; the captain’s ear Was deaf, the maid’s complaint he would not hear. When no entreaty could move his hard heart She sadly took her leave, and so they part.
To the Tune of _I’le go to Sir Richard_.
Come, all loyal lovers that’s faithful and true, Observe, where ever you be, A pattern I here have presented to you: It is good to be constant, you see.
But chiefly to thee, my own dearest, I speak, With patience my absence to bear, For now I am prest to serve on the seas, And I must bid adieu to my dear.
Our King must have seamen and souldiers most stout, His enemies’ heart for to fear, And I for my honour will venture about, And I must bid adieu to my dear.
MAID.
O tell me not so, mine own dearest, I pray; For love’s sake take pitty on me; I’le do my endeavour to please thee alway If that I may have my love free.
’Tis far better staying with me on the shore, Where pleasures and joys do abound, Than for [you] to venture where cannons do roar, In the depth of the seas to be drown’d.
O be not so cruel, my love, for to fight, But tarry, my dearest, with me; We’l find out a way in Love’s war for to fight, And I’le strive for to set my love free.
MAN.
All that thou canst do, my love, will not procure My freedom, I sorely do fear; But I must the hardship of service endure, And I must bid adieu to my dear.
My captain by no means will let me go free, He likes me so well, I do hear; Therefore it’s in vain to beg my liberty, For I must bid adieu to my dear.
MAID.
I’le go to thy captain and fall on my knee; Perhaps he’l take pitty on me; If five pounds or ten pounds will buy thy discharge He shall have it to set my love free.
THE CAPTAIN’S ANSWER.
Not ten pounds nor twenty will buy his discharge, Fair maid, you must patiently bear; He shall go to sea for his King to ingage, And he must bid adieu to his dear.
I’le have him to serve me upon the salt main, In battel with foes for to fight; Then cease, pritty maiden, and do not complain, For the wars is a souldier’s delight.
MAID.