Part 18
_ADMIRAL RUSSELL’S SCOWERING THE FRENCH FLEET; OR, THE BATTLE AT SEA._
Thursday in the morn, the Ides of May, Recorded be for ever the famous ninety-two. Brave Russel did discern by dawn of day The lofty sails of France advancing now. ‘All hands aloft, aloft; let English valour shine. Let fly a culvering, the signal of the line; Let ev’ry hand supply his gun. Follow me, and you’ll see That the battle will be soon begun.’
Tourville o’er the main triumphant rowl’d To meet the gallant Russel in combat on the deep; He led the noble train of heroes bold To sink the English admiral at his feet. Now every valiant mind to victory does aspire; The bloody fight’s begun, the sea itself on fire, And mighty Fate stood looking on Whilst a flood all of blood Fill’d the port-holes of the _Royal Sun_.
Sulpher, smoak, and fire disturbed the air, With thunder and wonder to fright the Gallick shore; Their regulated bands stood trembling near To see their lofty streamers now no more. At six a clock the Red the smiling victor led, To give a second blow, their total overthrow. Now death and horror equal reign; Now they cry, tun, or dye! Brittish colours ride the vanquish’d main.
See they run amaz’d thro’ rocks on sands: One danger they grasp at, to shun a greater fate. In vain they crie for aid to weeping lands; The nimphs and sea gods mourn their lost estate. For ever more adieu, thou dazling _Royal Sun_; From thy untimely end thy master’s fate begun: Enough, thou mighty god of war. Now we sing, ‘God bless the King, Let us drink to ev’ry English tar.’
Come, jolly seamen, all with Russel go To sail on the main, proud Monsieur for to greet And give our enemy a second blow, And fight Tourville if that he dare to meet. Come, brother tar, what cheer? Let each [his gun] supply, And thump ’em off this year, or make Mounsie[u]r to fly While we do range the ocean round. Day or night we will fight When our enemy is to be found.
Let it ne’er be said that English boys Should e’er stay behind when their admiral goes; But let each honest lad crie with one voice, ‘Brave Russel, lead us on to fight the foes.’ We’ll give them gun for gun, some sink and other burn. Broad-sides we’ll give ’em too, till Monsieur crys, ‘Morblew! Des Engleteer vill kill us all.’ Whilst they scower we will pour Thick as hail amongst them cannon-ball.
_A MERRY NEW BALLAD ON THE GREAT VICTORY OVER THE FRENCH FLEET, MAY THE 19th 1692._
To as merry a new Tune, _Hey! for the honour of Old England_.
I sing ye a ballad as round me ye stand, Which is for the honour of Old England: _Old England, Old England; Which is for the honour of Old England_.
In the month of May, the year ninety-two, The Englishman did his old valour show: _Old England, Old England, etc._
We sent out our scouts the foe to descry When Cape de Hague we were sailing by _Old England, etc._
This was a good omen, we now understand, And Lewis hates Hague by sea or by land: _Old England, etc._
But in our Channel the battel was fought, And so the French fleet in a net was caught, _Net was caught, net was caught; And so the French fleet in a net was caught_.
Yet Monsieur, expecting that all was his own, On Admirall Russell did boldly bear down: _Old England, etc._
He gave a broad-side, which was kindly took, And then the _Britannia_ in thunder spoke, _Thunder spoke, thunder spoke, And then the ‘Britannia’ in thunder spoke_.
Till in musquet shot she fires no gun, In compliment then salutes the French _Sun_, _Old England, etc._
And warms her sides so that for all her might She fairly tows off, and bids us good night: _Old England, etc._
Thus have we been taught in a tale or old song, French fury was never known to last long: _Old England, etc._
When Tourville had given the signal to flye, His squadrons, as ready, do westward, ho! ply: _Old England, etc._
Some of his lame geese, not able to bear Their heads above water, to the bottom they steer: _Old England, etc._
The rest we pursue in their stragling flight, And chase the poltrons most part of the night: _Old England, Old England, And hey! for the honour of Old England_.
The next morning was foggy; but when it grew clear The chase was renew’d, and so was their fear: _Old England, etc._
We made all our sail, and gave ’em no rest. From point to point drove ’em, from west to east: _Old England, etc._
Those coursers, so brisk at the starting-place, Run heavily now through Alderney Race: _Old England, etc._
Into Cherburgh Bay three tall ones did run, Where a northern blaze burns up the south _Sun_: _Old England, etc._
’Twas Heath did this feat; and Greenway another, For the _Conquerant_ fell, in flames and in smother: _Old England, etc._
And Fowlis was daring, though he miss’d his prey; He flew at the _Sun_, but stoopt by the way: _Old England, etc._
But now we are making for Bay Le Hogue, Where on land, they say, are many a brogue: _Old England, etc._
These doughty wights, those true Irish Teagues Won’t let us come near ’em by several leagues: _Old England, etc._
Such gallant alliance the French much imports; They’ll save their friends’ ships, as they did their own forts: _Old England, etc._
But manning our boats, those wise ones we cozen, And burn in this bay thirteen to the dozen: _Old England, etc._
This action’s far greater than that of Lepanto, And merits alone a whole noble canto: _Old England, etc._
For, like the old Britains, our men did assail ’em In open boats, and naked we quail ’em: _Old England, etc._
We storm’d their fore-castles, their decks we did scale, And with their own canon we made ’em turn tale: _Old England, etc._
Earl Danby commanded the headmost boat, Which was in a moment from under him shot: _Old England, etc._
Then a musquet ball does graze on his shin, But still he goes on, more honour to win: _Old England, etc._
Not a captain was here but toss’d up his brands; The seamen were furies, with flames in their hands: _Old England, etc._
What bonfires we made on our Norman coast! Where William the Conqueror rules the roast: _Rules the roast, rules the roast; Where William the Conqueror rules the roast_.
But now in all pomps, where great men appear, The post of honour is still in the reer: _Old England, etc._
Brave Russel can never enough be prais’d; Such trophies are owing as never were rais’d: _Old England, etc._
To his courage and conduct great honours are due: To all of the flag; the Red, White, and Blew: _Old England, etc._
To Delaval, Almonde, Shovell, Ashby, Rook, Whose names are all writ in Fame’s lasting book: _Old England, etc._
To Carter, the bold! who never can die; He only i’th’ bed of honour does lie: _Old England, etc._
His story is great, for he comes not an ace Behind Withrington in Old Chevy Chace. _Old England, etc._
Nay, he is before him, for he fought on his stumps, With joy in his face and not doleful dumps: _Old England, etc._
Stout Hastings shall live; shall ever be famed, With all our commanders, too long to be named: _Old England, etc._
What need we say more? there is no occasion; This French does excell the Spanish invasion: _Old England, etc._
The downfall of Lewis le Grand is reckon’d So far above that of Philip the Second: _Old England, etc._
’Twas in eight eight Queen Bess swept the main, In ninety-two Queen Mary the same: _Old England, etc._
Now all English lads not enter’d their teens Shall chant forth the praise of those Protestant Queens, _Protestant Queens! Protestant Queens! Shall chant out the praise of those Protestant Queens_.
Our London merchants will now live at ease, May trade without convoys all over the seas: _Old England, etc._
The New-Castle men may bring in their coals; And never must Petres say Mass in Paul’s, _Mass in Paul’s! Mass in Paul’s! And never must Petres say Mass in Paul’s_.
_THE VALIANT SEAMEN’S COURAGE:_
Who by the order of the Right Honourable Admiral Russel did on the tenth of May perform a brave exploit on the French, burning thirty-eight sail of their merchantmen, and taking a man-of-war, to the great honour of the English nation.
To the Tune of _Fond boy_, etc.
Joyful tydings I bring; let us merrily sing Till we make the whole nation with triumph to ring; For an admiral, he, by his conduct at sea, Now has made the poor French-men to come by the lee. _This is but the beginning of what we intend For to shew them before the brave summer does end._
A detachment sent out bravely scour’d about Till they put a whole fleet of French ships to the rout; We were four or five sail, who to fight never fail, And the one carry’d fiery flames in her tail. _This, etc._
To these merchants of France we did fairly advance; So good was our fortunate, prosperous chance That we put them in fear: to the shore they did steer, While we follow’d with thundering shot in the reer. _This, etc._
Some was sailing for Brest and St. Malo’s, we guest, To fair Dunkirk with stores and provision the rest; But their voyage we stay’d and fierce havock we made, While our thundering cannons against them we play’d. _This, etc._
Quoth the frighted Mounsieur, ‘To de shore let us steer, Here is coming five sail of de proud Englateer; Now, begar, let us run from de noise of deir gun, Or dey’ll serve us as dey did our dear _Rising Sun_.’ _Yet this is but a taste, boys, of what we intend For to give them before the brave summer does end._
As they fled in disgrace still we mended our pace, And, like true sons of thunder, we follow’d the chase, Where in harbour near shore thirty-eight sail or more We did set all on fire; in flames they did roar. _This, etc._
When our project did take, such a flame it did make, Just as if the seas had been a fiery lake; All their charges and cost of their cargo were lost: Now was ever poor French-men so plaguely crost? _This, etc._
It was on the tenth day of this sweet month of May When the valiant bold Britains did shew them this play, And we make no great doubt, e’er the summer is out, For to give them a sharp and more vigorous rout. _This, etc._
Boys, the work we’ll compleat with a most royal fleet, For we valiant tarpollins do scorn to retreat; Not a French-man we’ll spare; let them come if they dare On the ocean, brave Russel will fight with them fair. _This is but a beginning of what he intends For to shew them before the brave summer it ends._
_ENGLAND’S GLORY IN THE BEHAVIOUR OF BRAVE KILLEYGROVE._
All you that will be England’s friends, be you rich or be you poor, Give ear to me and I’ll relate what happened in ninety-four. ’Twas in the month of December--mark well but what I say-- The _Plymouth_, with five frigates more, set sail out of Cales Bay.
Brave Killeygrove was commodore, bound up into the Streights, Where he lost his life with many more, and this was their hard fate. When we came off the Cape Boner, two ships we did espy, Which prov’d to be French men-of-war, and to us they drew nigh.
They took us to be merchant-men, come down from the Levant, From Smyrna or from Scanderoon, from Venice or Mercant, Till bearing down before the wind, the truth of it to view, They took us to be men-of-war, and they found it to be true.
O, then they tack’d, and we stood after, as fast as we could hie, But before it was full three o’clock to them we did draw nigh. O, then bespoke brave Killeygrove, to his men both brisk and free, ‘I make no doubt but in little time our prizes they will be.’
The French were not unwilling to fight, but to fire they did begin; Then we gave them a whole broadside, which made their ears to ring. We had not fir’d passing two broadsides, as I remember well, But there came an unlucky shot, by which brave Killeygrove fell.
Then Raleigh was the second man that did take up the sword; And bravely he did manage it, as you may take my word. We had not been engaged there not past one glass or two, But that the _Falmouth_ she came up, and she gave the last her due.
Next came the little _Adventure_ up, and her guns she fir’d so true She put Jack Frenchman to the rout, he knew not what to do. We being quite disabled, the _Carlisle_ she made way After the biggest of the two, and she carry’d her the next day.
But had our mast and tiller held, O! then they would have seen, Notwithstanding, for all the _Carlisle_, our prizes they should have been. But, to conclude, they were taken both, for all they were so bold, And soon after they were carried into Marseilles Mold.
_AN EXCELLENT SONG, CALL’D THE FRIGHTED FRENCH; OR, RUSSEL SCOURING THE SEAS._
To a Pleasant Tune.
Russel on the ocean, minding Tourville’s motion, Made them to run at the noise of our guns, And Toulon shall be their portion; The French must trot it home by land, Whilst Russel on the seas command. Sound the trumpet, beat the drum, while the French do run, _Sound the trumpet, etc., sound, etc., while the French do run still before us_.
Now the spring’s a-coming, our English will be burning Your towns that be builded near the sea; You’ll find the sea-men booming; Then let your armies all advance, Yet we’ll lye on the coast of France, Sounding trumpets, beating drum, while the towns do burn, _Sounding trumpets, etc., sounding trumpets, towns do burn unto ashes_.
The Turk and the barbarian, how the English fleet do scare ’em And make them to know, before they do go, That the French shall dread and fear ’em. Now, Monsieur, bring out all you can; We’ll fight you ship or man to man. _Sound the trumpet, etc., sound, etc., man to man, we will fight ’em._
Each brave English freeman will be a jolly seaman; With Russel we’ll go to fight the foe, For the honour of Old England. Let Tourville with his fleet then come; Some we’ll sink and some we’ll burn. Gun for gun we’ll give them too, while they cry, ‘Morbleu!’ _Gun for gun, etc., gun, etc., while they cry, ‘We are routed!’_
The Turks they are much grieved, altho’ they still believed That the French fleet could the English beat, But now they are deceived; In Toulon they all do sneak and hide, Whilst Russel in the Straights doth ride, Daring Tourville for to come, and bring out his fleet, _Daring Tourville, etc., daring, etc., bring out his fleet, for to fight us_.
Since the French are frighted they by the world are slighted, For Russel the brave is resolved for to have The English nation righted; He cares not what the French can do, Since the Red squadron and the Blew Are full resolved for to be masters of the sea, _Are full resolved for to be, are, etc., masters, etc., in spite of Monsieur_.
_THE CÆSAR’S VICTORY._
It being [an] account of a ship so called in her voyage to the East Indies, richly laden, [which] was beset with five sail of Pirates; but the Cæsar so rarely behaved herself that she came off with conquest and put her foes to flight, losing no more than one man, and but seven wounded, one of which was Francis Stevens, a Water-man, who formerly ply’d at Puddle-Dock, who lost his arm.
To the Tune of _Cannons rore_.
As we was sailing on the main, Well laded with great store of gain, We was in danger to be ta’en: Five pirates ships appeared, Who sailed up with courage bold, As if they would not be contrould; But we brave noble hearts of gold Their courage never feared.
We soon did understand their will, And therefore used our chiefest skill, Resolving there our blood to spill Rather than lose our _Cæsar_: We vow’d she should not be their prey, And therefore, boys, we show’d them play. It was upon the Sabbath day: No pirates could appease her.
The master, flourishing his sword, Did comfort to us all afford, Both seamen, souldiers then on board, True courage to awaken; Then with one voice we all did cry, ‘We are resolved to make them fly, Or in the _Cæsar_ we will dye, Rather than to be taken.’
Before the fight we this did do: Our bread into the sea we threw, To make room for the whole ship’s crew To fight and keep foes under: This truth can never be deny’d, We soon did quell their haughty pride By giving them a full broadside: Our cannons roar’d like thunder.
Full five long hours there we fought, In the brave _Cæsar_, fierce and stout; At length we put them to the rout Who aimed at our treasure: We pour’d them in whole showers of lead, So that they tumbled down for dead And in the ocean made their bed, Where they may lie their leisure.
Their admiral did want to be Aboard of _Cæsar_, this we see, That they might have rich plunder free, The thing which they delight in: But yet there was not one that dare To come on board of _Cæsar_ there; They knew their lives we would not spare, So fierce we was for fighting.
Good Fortune she our courage crown’d, Or else aboard on us they’d found The sum of fourscore thousand pound, Besides all other lading: Could they but once have seen us fall, Their booty then had not been small, Two hundred thousand pound in all; This would have spoil’d our trading.
I hope we gave them all their due, Yet sav’d our coyn and cargo too. Believe me, this is perfect true, It is no feigned story: For though our foes were five to one, Yet we at last did make them run: And when we see our work was done To God we gave the glory,
Who did indeed our rights maintain; For in this skirmish on the main Of us there was but one man slain, And seven others wounded: But those that sought our overthrow, They lost a many more, we know. Thus Providence did kindness show When we was so surrounded.
_A COPY OF VERSES, COMPOSED BY CAPTAIN HENRY EVERY, LATELY GONE TO SEA TO SEEK HIS FORTUNE._
To the Tune of _The Two English Travellers_.
Come, all you brave boys, whose courage is bold, Will you venture with me? I’ll glut you with gold. Make haste unto Corona: a ship you will find, That’s called the _Fancy_, will pleasure your mind.
Captain Every is in her, and calls her his own; He will box her about, boys, before he has done: French, Spaniard, and Portuguese, the heathen likewise, He has made a war with them until that he dies.
Her model’s like wax, and she sails like the wind; She is rigg’d, and fitted, and curiously trimm’d, And all things convenient has for his design. God bless his poor Fancy, she’s bound for the mine.
Farewel, fair Plimouth, and Cat-Down be damn’d: I once was part-owner of most of that land; But as I am disown’d, so I’ll abdicate My person from England to attend on my fate.
Then away from this climate and temperate zone, To one that’s more torrid, you’ll hear I am gone With an hundred and fifty brave sparks of this age, Who are fully resolved their foes to engage.
These northern parts are not thrifty for me; I’ll rise the Anterise, that some men shall see I am not afraid to let the world know That to the South Seas and to Persia I’ll go.
Our names shall be blaz[on]ed and spread in the sky, And many brave places I hope to descry Where never a French man e’er yet has been, Nor any proud Dutchman can say he has seen.
My commission is large, and I made it myself, And the capston shall stretch it full larger by half; It was dated in Corona, believe it, my friend, From the year ninety-three unto the world’s end.
I honour St. George, and his colours I were, Good quarters I give, but no nation I spare; The world must assist me with what I do want; I’ll give them my bill when my money is scant.
Now this I do say and solemnly swear: He that strikes to St. George the better shall fare But he that refuses shall suddenly spy Strange colours aboard of my Fancy to fly.
Four chiviliges of gold in a bloody field, Environ’d with green, now this is my shield; Yet call out for quarter before you do see A bloody flag out, which is our decree.
No quarters to give, no quarters to take; We save nothing living: alas! ’tis too late; For we are now sworn by the bread and the wine, More serious we are than any divine.
Now this is the course I intend for to steer; My false-hearted nation, to you I declare I have done thee no wrong, thou must me forgive; The sword shall maintain me as long as I live.
_VILLANY REWARDED; OR, THE PIRATE’S LAST FAREWEL TO THE WORLD;_
Who was executed at Execution Dock on Wednesday, the 25th of November, 1696, being of Every’s crew; together with their Free Confession of their most Horrid Crimes.
To the Tune of _Russel’s Farewel_.
Well may the world against us cry; for these our deeds most base, For which, alas! we now must dye, death looks us in the face, Which is no more than what’s our due, since we so wicked were, As here shall be declar’d to you. Let pyrates then take care.
We with our comrades, not yet ta’en, together did agree, And stole a ship out from the Groyne, to roam upon the sea; With which we robb’d and plundered too, no ship that we did spare. Thus many a one we did undo. Let pyrats then take care.
Our ship being well stored then for this our enterprise, One hundred and eighty men there was in her likewise: We pillag’d all we could come nigh, no nation we did spare, For which a shameful death we dye. Let pyrates then take care.
We robb’d a ship upon the seas, the _Gunsway_ call’d by name, Which we met near the East Indies, and rifled the same; In it was gold and silver store, of which all had a share; Each man 600 pounds and more. Let pirates then take care.
Thus for some time we liv’d and reign’d as masters of the sea; Every merchant we detain’d and us’d most cruelly. The treasures took, we sunk the ship, and those that in it were That would not unto us submit. Let pirates then take care.
Thus wickedly we every day liv’d upon others’ good, The which, alas! we must repay now with our dearest blood; For we on no one mercy took, nor any did we spare. How can we then for mercy look? Let pirates then take care.
We thus did live most cruelly, and of no danger thought, But we at last, as you may see, are unto justice brought For outrages of villany, of which we guilty are, And now this very day must dye. Let pirates then take care.