Part 23
And there for to wait to join our fleet, All with Sir John Norris the French fleet to meet. On the seventh day our fleet they came in, Expecting at Dungeness the French fleet to trim.
So then from the Downs we quickly did sail, All for Dungeness the French to prevail, But then off Folkstone we was forc’d to bring to, Where the French fleet did appear in our view.
Our captain on board the admiral he went, To let him know our losses it was our full intent, The admiral he order’d us to Spithead with speed, But our thiler being broke we turn’d back again.
Four anchors we lost which grieved us full sore, To think we had but one anchor and cable more, So we stear’d for the Downs and when we came there We let go our last anchor in despair.
Right on the Goodwin Sands O the wind it did blow, Which fill’d our whole ship’s company all full of woe. But thanks be to God our cable it did hold, Which saved the lives of so many sailors bold.
So now my lads since the danger it is o’er, How merry we will be boys if e’er we get on shore, With full flowing bowls the bumpers shall go round With our lasses upon our knees our sorrows to drown.
So now to conclude and end my song, It was a brisk young sailor unto the ship belong’d It was a brisk young sailor that these lines did make, And o’er a can of flip his heart would never ake.
_THE LOSS OF THE VICTORY MAN-OF-WAR._
Good people all, pray give attention, to this fatal tragedy, Which I am bound to mention of the gallant _Victory_: Fourteen hundred souls did perish, and are to the bottom gone, Oh! the dismal grief and horror of their widows left alone.
When we first from Spithead sailed, convoy unto Lisbon bound, They with good flip and punch regaled a brave new ship both right and sound: A hundred and ten guns she mounted, all of brass so smart and clean, The best ship in the Navy counted, but alas! no more is seen.
But the voyage proved fatal, as by the sequel we shall find, For as she was home returning, she was off Scilly left behind In a dreadful storm of lightning, and of hail and thunder too, And has never since been heard of, the fatherless have cause to rue,
From Alderney we’ve information that they heard that stormy night, At least ninety guns to fire which did them something affright: But as the more the storm increased it gave them more room to guess That some ship upon the ocean, was in sad and deep distress.
We saw floating some days after some spare yards were drove on shore, On which was the name _Victory_, this gave us suspicion more: That the noble ship was stranded on the Gaskets was our fear, Long we waited with impatience, but no news of them could hear.
The brave gallant Admiral Balchen with fourteen hundred men beside, If she’s lost, went to the bottom, and all at once together died: Oh! the dismal grief and horror if one had been there to see, How they all were struck with horror when sunk down the _Victory_.
O! the sad and dismal story, I’m griev’d when I the same relate, So many blasted in their glory and at once shared the same fate: Some thinking on their wives and children, and some on their parents dear, Sunk to the bottom in a moment, and no time to say a prayer.
O _Victory_! thou wast unlucky, but once before was out at sea, In the night run foul of the _Lion_, and her carved work took away: Now thou art gone to the bottom with a jovial company, An admiral, marines and sailors, most unhappy _Victory_!
Oh! the grief of mournful widows, and their children fatherless, And the grief of tender parents, is more than what I can express: Some lamenting for their sweethearts overwhelm’d with grief we see, Each one laments his dear relation, Oh! the fatal _Victory_!
Children crying for their fathers, widows weeping in distress, God will surely be their comfort, and protect the fatherless. He’ll be a husband to the widow that loves honest industry, And does give them His protection; farewell fatal _Victory_!
_DISCONSOLATE JUDY’S LAMENTATION FOR THE ABSENCE OF HER TRUE LOVE JOHNNY, ON BOARD THE VICTORY, WITH ADMIRAL BALCHEN, NOW MISSING._
Tune of _Down by a Crystal River Side_.
Come pity me, young maidens all, Who am brought into wretched thrall, My love was prest away to sea, And is on board the _Victory_.
When of him I did take my leave, He said, ‘Dear Judy, do not grieve; Altho’ I absent from you be, Stout is our ship, the _Victory_.
‘Brave Balchen is a gallant man, And will conduct us safe to land; Then my dear Judy I shall see, When safe returns the _Victory_.’
Ah! John, indeed my heart did fail, When you to Lisbon was to sail, For dangers they are great at sea, Oh! now where is the _Victory_.
O John, my lovely sailor dear, My heart is sore opprest with fear; A letter, true love, send to me, From on board the _Victory_.
No cruel balls has hurt my dear, No fatal rocks you have come near, Nor taken by an enemy, You nor the gallant _Victory_.
Nine hundred men on board you have, A jolly crew both stout and brave As ever did go out to sea, God send safe home the _Victory_.
Dear Johnny, I at Portsmouth wait, And watch for you early and late, Wishing each moment for to see Come sailing in the _Victory_.
_ENGLAND’S GLORY; OR THE FRENCH KING STRIPPED._
Being a new song compos’d by Capt. Roberts, in praise of those bold sailors belonging to the _Prince Frederick_, and _Duke_ Privateers, who took the two French ships with forty five waggon loads of money on board, which was brought through the City in triumph to the Tower.
Tune of _Avast! Honest Mess-mate_.
Come all you jolly seamen, that’s willing to enter On board of the _Duke_, your lives for to venture, On board of the _Duke_, she’s called by name, She cruizes the seas for old England’s fame. _Fal, etc._
The fourth day of May from the Downs we set sail, O, we were blest with a very fine gale: And with the _Prince Frederick_ being our Commodore, We steered away, boys, for the Canary shore. _Fal, etc._
The tenth day of July, it being very clear, We espy’d three ships belonging to Mounsieur; O, these three ships were coming from Peru, With gold and silver, boys, all in our view. _Fal, etc._
A broadside from these French dogs we did receive, But quickly two for one O we did them give: But then at length they would no longer fight, ‘Our ships are a sinking’ for quarter they cry’d. _Fal, etc._
We hoisted out our pinnace, went to them straitway, We boarded two of their ships the very same day; We brought all the prisoners on board our own ship, Our hearts then within us began for to leap. _Fal, etc._
Then we went to Kingsale, being the nearest place, That we durst go to for to show our face: Where we had good wine and punch in gollore, And rum and brandy, boys, all in good store. _Fal, etc._
_THE LUCKY SAILOR; OR THE SAILOR’S INVITATION TO GO WITH ADMIRAL ANSON._
Come jolly sailors, join with me, Come jolly sailors, join with me, To fight with Anson for renown, That we the French pride may pull down! We’ll take ’em all upon the seas; We’ll take ’em all upon the seas; We’ll make ’em strike where’er we meet, Or serve ’em all as we’ve done these.
My boys, you heard what we have done, (_bis_) Ten sail of men-of-war we took, And made the merchant-men to run; Our admiral he ordered then, (_bis_) Three men-of-war to chase ’em all, To sink and take whate’er they can.
The _Centurion_ first led the van, (_bis_) And held ’em till we came up; Then we their hides did sorely bang, Our broadsides we on them did pour, (_bis_) We gave the French a sower d[r]ench, And soon their topsails made them lower.
And when they saw our fleet come up, (_bis_) They for quarters call’d without delay, And their colours they that moment struck O! how we did rejoice and sing, (_bis_) To see such prizes we had took, For ourselves and for George our King.
O! now, my boys, I’m come on shore, (_bis_) I’ll make you drink before we part; Such luck I never had before. Here is a health to those brave men, (_bis_) That did command this noble fleet, Bold Anson and brave Warren.
My boys our prizes is arrived, (_bis_) Which when the people they did see, It did their very hearts revive. With joy and mirth we spent the night, (_bis_) In drinking loyal healths all round, It was such a welcome sight.
Our ships are all a fitting up, (_bis_) Again with Anson we will go, I wish we may have but good luck. My boy, I’d have you to go too, (_bis_) For Anson is a lucky man, Where’er he comes he makes ’em rue.
This is the second time you’ve seen (_bis_) The waggon loads of money come, And all taken by brave Anson. Come now, my boys, drink off a glass; (_bis_) Let’s not forget now we’re come home, Each bold sailor’s pretty lass.
_TIT FOR TAT: A SEA KICK FOR A LAND CUFF._
Being the sailors’ song upon our having a Hawke’s eye on the French fleet, the fourteenth of October last [1747].
1
Ring, ring out our bells! and to Calais from Dover Let our cannons loud roar carry France the news over, That the balance of land and sea war we’ve brought home, And our prizes, at Portsmouth, pay their Bergen-opzoom. So Huzzah! to King George, boys; long, long may he reign, By the right of old England, long lord of the main! _So Huzzah! to King George, etc._
2
Now hark! and you’ll hear (and with truth ’twill be told) How the seas have been swept by his true hearts of gold: In the month of October, to West Indies bound, A fleet so becrowded with numbers we found, Tho’ our ken could not count ’em, our first chasing gun Observ’d ’em less forward to fight than to run. _Tho’ our ken could not count ’em, etc._
3
All, all hands aloft, and away ’fore the wind, Full sail sped their merchants, from convoys behind; Yet, to do their tall ships the true honour we owe ’em, Tho’ to beat was above ’em, to fly was below ’em. But their cargoes, in danger, had no time to talk; So like pigeons they flew from our bold British Hawk. _But their cargoes, in danger, etc._
4
Now broadsides to broadsides, smash! thro’ and thro’ boring, Made the sea seem a forest of lions all roaring! But the _Severn’s_ bruised ribs felt our shot fly so sore, That her loud fifty mouths never spoke a word more. So silenc’d we left her, without more concern, To be catch’d, as we saw, by our frigates astern. _So silenc’d we left her, etc._
5
Of their _Trident_ our _Devonshire_ came alongside, And souse! in her guts, such a dose did she hide, That the rummaging pills almost work’d her to death, For she soon, like the _Severn_, lay gasping for breath. Then bounce! came their _Terrible_--foul on a _Tartar_; But she too sung small, till she cry’d out for quarter. _Then bounce! came their Terrible, etc._
6
Now shatter’d and batter’d (Morbleu! such a sight!) Their _Thunder_ knock’d under, and stole off by night; When six of their squadron, that scarcely could creep, We lugg’d and tugg’d home, in our harbours to sleep. And so large were their hulks, tho’ we ply’d ’em with rubbing, To be sure their thick hides took a good deal of drubbing. _And so large were their hulks, etc._
7
And now, the next year, when the prizes we’ve made By our own hands are mann’d out, we’ll drive a French trade; While the sea is our market, for squadrons we’ll barter, And give for first rates only bullets and quarter! So, Huzzah! to King George, boys; long, long may he reign, By the right of old England, long lord of the main. _So, Huzzah! etc._
8
While our salt water walls so begird us about, And our cruisers, and bruisers, keep good looking out, What force need old England to fear can offend her, From France, or from Spain, or a Popish Pretender? So, Huzzah! to King George, boys; long, long may he reign, By the right of old England, long lord of the main. _So Huzzah! etc._
_A NEW SONG ON ADMIRAL KNOWLS TAKING PORT LOUIS._
Tune of _Duke of Lorain and the Princess Royal_.
Let every loyal Briton sing Prosperity to George our King; He that refuses let him swing, As many has done before him; But I shall raise my chearfull voice, Let Englishmen with me rejoice, For valiant Knowls, huzza! brave boys, The sailor does admire.
Hispaniola and Louis Port Afforded Englishmen brave sport. Brave news, brave news for the British Court, Those places both are taken; We’ve taken Pondicherry too. Another scene appears in view: Jago de Cuba soon must rue, If I am not mistaken.
It is such valiant acts as these That makes Mounsieur cry out for peace: Morblue hostilities pray cease And I’ll return all Flanders! Let all true Britons fill their bowls, A health to that hero Admiral Knowls, A health to our Brittish sailors bold That fought with this brave comander.
Another glass to the sailors brave That with him such proofs of valour gave; Confusion to the rebel slave That does refuse to drink it! Let all true Britons fill their bowls: A health to hero Admiral Knowls, A health to our British sailors bold That fought with this brave commander.
_A NEW SONG._
Sung by HANNAH SNELL, alias JAMES GRAY, at the New-Wells _Goodman’s Fields_.
Tune of _Come and listen to my Ditty, etc._
I.
All ye noble British spirits that midst dangers glory sought, Let it lessen not your merit that a woman bravely fought: Cupid slily first inroll’d me, Pallas next her force did bring, Press’d my heart to venture boldly for my love and for my King.
II.
Sailorlike, to fear a stranger, straight I ventured on the main, Facing death and every danger, love and glory to obtain; Tell me, you who hear my story, what could more my courage move?-- George’s name inspired with glory, William was the man I lov’d.
III.
When from William Susan parted she but wept and shook her hand; I, more bold (tho’ tender-hearted), left my friends and native land; Bravely by his side, maintaining British rights, I shed my blood, Still to him unknown remaining, watch’d to serve and do him good.
IV.
In the midst of blood and slaughter, bravely fighting for my King, Facing death from every quarter, fame and conquest home to bring; Sure you’ll own ’tis more than common, and the world proclaim it too, Never yet did any woman more for love and glory do.
_THE LIGHTERMAN’S PRENTICE PREST AND SENT TO SEA._
A prentice I was at Wapping-new-stairs, And a smart young lad was I; But that old blackguard old W----d, He inform’d, and had forty shillings for me. It was on the last day of February, In the year of fifty-five: He had me taken out of bed; When my friends heard it, lord! how they cry’d. My mother and my cousin both They on board of the tender came with speed, And thro’ the grates to them I talk’d, It was enough to make any heart to bleed. My mother and my cousin both, They in a boat did go ashore. Then from the Tower we set sail, For the _Yarmouth_ rideing at the Nore. In happen’d on a Sunday morning We arrived at the Nore; The commodore fir’d his signal gun For the women all to go ashore. And when unto the ship I went, They put me in a great surprize; There I heard some swearing and some cursing, And some damning their precious eyes, To think that the commodore fir’d his signal For all their wives to go ashore; There was some crying and some sniffling, Crying ‘My dear, I shall see you no more.’ Then from the Nore we did set sail, And unto Spithead we was bound. It was a pretty sight to see The lasses lin’d round Portsmouth town. Then from the _Yarmouth_ I was sent On board of _Captain_, so-call’d by name; There I fell sick on board of her, And to Gosport hospital sent for the same. There for three long months I stay’d, And very bad I was indeed; But I got well and away I went On board of the _Captain_ with speed. I had not been on board her long Before the fleet they all did sail, From Spithead to St. Helens, boys, With a fine and pleasant gale. And when to St. Helens, boys, we came, The wind at west was very high; Sir Edward Hawke hove out his signal, For to come to anchor that very night. Sir Edward he hove out another signal, For the captain’s boat to come with speed, It was for to turn over fifty hands, On board of the _Ipswich_ indeed. And when alongside of the _Ipswich_ we came, I boldly in her jump’d in: And a-cruizing the Channel I went in her, And the French dogs we did sweetly trim. We’d not been out above six weeks Before the news to us was brought: Then to take, sink, burn, and destroy All the French ships we came athwart. It happen’d on a Sunday morning, As we was on our starboard tack, Between the hours of nine and ten, Three sail of Frenchmen we did take. We fir’d a shot and hoisted our colours, Then to let them see what we was; As soon as they came along side us They saw we was English boys, Then straitway they haul’d down their colours, And unto us they did strike; And they know’d that they must sink, If they had offer’d for to fight. We took five more, which made us eight, And away to Spithead, boys, we went. And now, my lads, we’re come to an harbour, We can go to rest with great content. So all young men that row in the lighters Keep yourselves free from a press-gang, And when ever you come athwart old W----d For my sake give him a hearty damn.
_BRITAIN’S RESOLUTION TO FIGHT THE FRENCH._
(? 1756)
Come join with me, you Britons bold, Ne’er let your country be sold; We’ll let the French to understand, We’ll fight them both by sea or land, With hearts of steel and sword in hand, _Like Britons bold_.
Brave Prince George shall command Our English [army], boys, by land; And when we meet our enemy, We’ll let them know we’ll fight or die, And quickly make them for to fly _From Britons bold_.
Brave Anson and Hawke, brave Mostyn and West, They are all admirals of the best; And brave Boscawen we’ll not pass by, For he will either fight or dy, And from the French he’ll never fly, _He is a Briton bold_.
In brave Plymouth Harbour near the main, There’s a hundred sail of French ships we’ve ta’en; Already, boys, they have a drench, We have many thousands of the French, Confin’d in close imprisonment, _By Britons bold_.
Our Parliament they do agree That all these ships shall prizes be. There’s many a thousand pound in gold, For many a jolly sailor bold, Who did his enemies controul, _Like Britons bold_.
Proud Lewis says, we understand, That he will invade our British land; But if he dare to show his face Before Prince George’s royal grace, We’ll make them glad to quit the place, _Like Britons bold_.
Come, my boy, and let us go To fight the proud, insulting foe; Come, let us finish what’s begun, And see what is for to be done, We have oft-times beat them four to one, _Like Britons bold_.
May God protect us in the field, Against our enemies’ sword and shield; Then fear not Charley’s Highland plods, Nor yet proud Lewis’s wooden gods, But scourge them with good English rods, _Like Britons bold_.
God bless great George upon the throne, And may he now enjoy his own; May God preserve him day and night, And let him long enjoy his right, He is all loyal souls’ delight. [_Like Britons bold._]
_THE TERRIBLE PRIVATEER._
You sailors all of courage bold, Now a true story I will unfold; How we behaved you soon shall hear, On board the _Terrible_ privateer.
We touch’d at Plymouth, it was for men, Unto the seas we went again, And being blest with a pleasant gale, Hop’d with our enemies to prevail.
We had not long been on the sea, Before a Frenchman we did see; He was well rigg’d, and come from France, Her name was call’d the bold _Valance_.
We crowded all the sail we could, Our thundering cannons fire we would; Many a gallant sailor fell, On board the ship call’d the _Terrible_.
Powder and ball did fly so fast, Four hours and a half this fight did last, But a sad misfortune us befell, On board the ship call’d the _Terrible_.
We boldly gave them gun for gun, Till the blood out of our scuppers run, Our captain and our [mate] being slain, We could no longer the fight maintain.
To board us then they did begin, And stript us naked to the skin; They put us all in the hole together, Where twenty-seven poor souls were smother’d.
They sail’d with us to the first sea port, And bound us in prison strong; Where full nine months we did lay, Before the Carteel did fetch us away.
Here’s a health unto our British fleet, Grant they with these privateers may meet, And [have] better luck than the _Terrible_, And sink those Mounsiers all to hell.
_CAPTAIN DEATH._
The muse and the hero together are fir’d, The same noble views has their bosom inspir’d; As freedom they love, and for glory contend, The muse o’er the hero still mourns as a friend; So here let the muse her poor tribute bequeath, To one British hero--’tis brave Captain Death.
The ship was the _Terrible_--dreadful to see! His crew was as brave and as valiant as he; Two hundred or more was their full complement, And sure braver fellows to sea never went. Each man was determined to spend his last breath In fighting for Britain and brave Captain Death.
A prize they had taken diminish’d their force. And soon the brave ship was lost in her course; The French privateer and the _Terrible_ met, The battle began all with horror beset: No heart was dismay’d, each bold as Macbeth, The sailors rejoiced, so did brave Captain Death.
Fire, thunder, balls, bullets, were soon heard and felt, A sight that the heart of Bellona would melt; The shrouds [were] all torn and the decks fill’d with blood, And scores of dead bodies were thrown in the flood; The flood, from the time of old Noah and Seth, Ne’er saw such a man as our brave Captain Death.
At last the dread bullet came wing’d with his fate, Our brave captain dropt, and soon after his mate; Each officer fell, and a carnage was seen, That soon dy’d the waves to a crimson from green; Then Neptune rose up, and he took off his wreath, And gave it a triton to crown Captain Death.