Part 27
Our guns set for the best advantage alongside they did come. We said we need not fire till execution [could] be done; As soon as they bore upon him we immediately let drive, And wounded three of his Irishmen. ’Tis a pity we left them alive. _We’ll go, etc._
Our captain walked the quarterdeck like a lion stout, Cry’d, ‘Don’t let it be said, my boys, we cowardly give it out.’ Our running ropes, sails, and rigging being all shot away, Our ship in this condition could neither wear nor stay. _We’ll go, etc._
We fought them five glasses, but found it all in vain; You see she carries 18 guns and we’re sure for to be taken; Our captain cry’d, ‘What must we do? To strike it will be best; The cutter never will leave us until they see us lost.’ _We’ll go, etc._
Then seeing us an inferior force they unto us did shout, Saying, ‘You poor English dogs, why don’t you give it out?’ We found it was in vain to fight; down colours we did hawl; ‘Hoist out your boat and come aboard’ [unto] us, they did call. _We’ll go, etc._
O then our captain went aboard, and part of our noble crew. They beat the captain on the head and swore they would run him through; Now into their hold they put us, bound into irons strong, And for twelve days they kept us where we were thick and throng. _We’ll go, etc._
The first meal that they gave us was calavances and salt beef, Which made us curse fortune and wish for some relief; We lying in this condition, for Ireland Captain Ray in did push Unto the Irish Channel, where he was bound to cruise. _We’ll go, etc._
They had not cruised many days, but only four or five, Until they spied the _Friends_ brig and soon made her a prize; But cruising two days longer in breast of Boron Head, Which proved to our advantage, they took the _Jenny_ brig. _We’ll go, etc._
Ransom being made for her, it being all agreed For to knock off our irons and put us aboard with speed, We’re now on board the _Jenny_. To Glasgow she is bound, And to secure us from the press we landed in a Highland sound. _We’ll go, etc._.
Now to our joy and comfort we’re landed all on shore, And to Newcastle we are bound, to see our friends once more. But travelling thro’ the Highlands, the people, very poor, They scarce would admit us to come within their door. _We’ll go, etc._
We being in this condition we travelled long and sore, But as we came to the southward more pity they did show, At last meeting with one John Robson, who proved very kind, And for three days he kept us and maintained us like a friend. _We’ll go, etc._
After this refreshment on our journey we do proceed, But coming near to Edinburgh we met a rogue indeed, Who pretended to be our friend, but [with] an evil eye, For then he did deceive us, as we in the barns did lie. _We’ll go, etc._
Next morning after two o’clock 50 of Neper’s gang Came with sword and pistol to take 10 naked men. They finding us able seamen, as we knew very well, They gave us such an offer as is a shame to tell. _We’ll go, etc._
Now we are all taken, and to Leith we do come Before Captain Neper to receive our doom. We were that night in two barns as we were ne’er before, Or we had broke some of these ruffians’ heads and made them for to roar. _We’ll go, etc._
He told us we might enter if that we would pay Forty shillings a man to the rogue that did us betray; But Neper’s high offer we rejected with disdain, But we’ll fight for our King against France and against Spain. _We’ll go, etc._
But I hope in short time sweet peace will be restor’d, And the Devil will have Neper tho’ we’re in the hold. When peace is restor’d to Leith we will come, To pay Neper and his men for what they have done. _We’ll go, etc._
Come, all you jolly seamen that to Greenland do go, We wish you good success, alltho’ we go no more, For we are forced to serve the King on board of a man-o-war; But expects to return with gold and silver store. _We’ll go, etc._
_ADMIRAL KEPPEL TRIUMPHANT; OR, MONSIEURS IN THE SUDS._
Each bold British tar, Who ne’er dreads wound or scar, Now to honour and glory advance; Never let it be told That Britons so bold Shall stoop to be conquer’d by France.
This American war Had ne’er gone on so far Had they not been supported by France; But Keppel so brave, Such music he’ll have, Will teach them the Old English dance.
Tho’ railing there’s been ’Gainst statesmen and King And they said, we durst not declare war, But, whether or not, Such a navy we’ve got That will soon be a scourge to Monsieur.
Bold Keppel, we know, Was ever their foe, And his courage no Briton need doubt; Two French frigates he’s ta’en, That were sailing the main Our West India fleet for to rout.
Now Keppel, they say, Off Brest Harbour does lay: Monsieurs with their fleet can’t come out; If they do they must fight, Which was ne’er their delight. We shall beat them; of that there’s no doubt.
Each true British soul, Push round can or bowl, Drink success to his Majesty’s arms And his navy at sea; Then we all must agree We fear no invading alarms.
_KEPPEL AND DE CHARTRES._
A NEW SONG.
(1779.)
Come, all ye valiant seamen that plough the raging main, And listen to my ditty, ye jovial sons of fame; It is of the bloody battle between us and Monsieur, And if you’ll give attention the truth of it you’ll hear.
On the ninth day of July, at St. Hellens where we lay, Our admiral hove a signal out for all the fleet to weigh. Down Channel we all sail’d, till a Dutchman we did meet, Who gave us the intelligence of seeing the French fleet.
The twenty-third of July was the day we hove in sight Of the Duc de Chartres and forty sail so bright. Our admirals hove the signal out for all the fleet to chase, But the French prov’d cowards and run, to their disgrace.
We continued chasing them till the twenty-seventh day, Then about the hour of ten at noon our colours we did display. The _Shrewsbury_, Captain Lockhart, was the first that did engage, Which made our noble admirals hoist their bloody flags with rage.
The _Egmont_, Captain Allen, that ship of mighty fame, She’s worthy to be called the Dread of France by name, For boldly she bore down, and twenty-eight ships engag’d, While our officers and men, boys, did show them British play.
The brave Duc de Chartres came rolling in his pride, Thinking to send the _Egmont_ down with one of his broadsides; But he was mistaken, as plainly doth appear, For we gave him such a drubbing as put their hearts in fear,
To speak of the _Formidable_ and give that ship her due, She stood in our behalf, boys, like Englishmen so true, The French admiral lying at our stem, thinking us for to take, But [she] gave him a broadside, which [made his heart to ache].
And at the very same time we gave them three more louder. Bold Allen cries, ‘Luff, my boys, and let us smell their powder,’ Our ship was so disabled that she would hardly steer, Which obliged us for to heave her to, our damage to repair.
The French they form’d a line again, with a pretence to fight, But on purpose to deceive us and steal away by night.
[Two lines missing.]
Our ship she was very foul, likewise at Lisbon grounded, With fourteen brave fellows kill’d, and twenty-four was wounded, Which made us cry out, ‘Revenge,’ and made our hearts to grieve To think we could not see them, but they should us deceive.
So, to conclude and end my song, I do you kindly greet To drink to our brave admirals and captains in the fleet, Likewise to Captain Allen and his officers so bold, And to his ship’s company; they’re valiant hearts of gold.
_A NEW SONG IN PRAISE OF ADMIRAL KEPPEL’S FLEET._
Come, all young seamen, wherever you be, That sails with Admiral Keppel to sea, For we are the boys that are loyal and true, That fights for King George and our country too. _So, boys, fill your bumpers all round; Success to the fleet that’s outward-bound, For we are the boys that wears true blue And belong to Admiral Keppel’s crew._
But when he hoists the British flag, Not France or Spain has room to brag; He will fight the French and Spaniards too, And make Monsieur to cry, ‘Morbleu!’ _So, boys, etc._
Had Keppel but orders for to fight The French wou’d not have run away at night; No orders he had for to give them their due, Which vex’d the admiral and his brave crew. _So, boys, etc._
I wish their heads on Temple Bar, Who’d hinder bold fighting in time of war, Or else, like Jack the Painter, to be Hanged high upon Tyburn tree. _So, boys, etc._
Now drink a health to George our King, Not forgetting Charlotte, his royal Queen, And all brave seamen that sail on the main True blue for ever will never stain. _So, boys, etc._
_ADMIRAL KEPPEL TRIUMPHANT._
Ye brave British tars, come, attend to my muse, Be jovial and hearty, in wine let’s carouse; For Keppel from the accusation is clear, That was brought against him by Sir Hugh Palliser.
One morning, last July, at break of the day, The French was descry’d in battle array: Brave Keppel, impatient to fight proud Monsieur, Directed his course and unto them drew near.
The French fleet to windward first gave a broadside. Augustus, undaunted, their great guns defy’d: His fleet, being mann’d with compleat British tars, Appal’d the Monsieur with the thunder of Mars.
Aghast the pale French in dismay bore away; Our ships, being crippl’d, oblig’d us to stay, Main-sails, gallant royals, stay-sails to repair, That we might again re-attack the Monsieur.
This done, our commander the signal did make For the ships to the lee to come to his wake. Regardless of order, Sir Hugh Palliser Refus’d to obey, and kept back in the rear.
This gave the French time to retreat into Brest: But observe the sequel, which is a meer jest. As guilt is always [the] companion of fear, So mind the dark plan of Sir Hugh Palliser.
Assisted by Beelzebub, prince of old Styx, His infernal sire, the weapon he strikes; Himself to exculpate, the shaft he lets fly, Intending a sacrifice Keppel should die.
The plan was laid down, then the charge it was made, Augustus accused of being afraid To fight the Monsieurs, and of running away, And leaving the French fleet triumphant at sea.
But justice and Montague there did preside; They found out the falsehood, his errors descry’d; The jury withdrew, for they all saw the cheat, Acquitted Augustus, because he was great.
This true son of Neptune, couragious and bold, Will fight for his king, and by him be controul’d; To minions in power he’ll not be a slave, The French he’ll chastize with a heart free and brave.
So now, brother sailors, let us reunite To serve under Keppel, the French for to fight; His name, like the gold from the furnace, shall shine In Old England’s annals to time’s latest line.
Then fill up your glasses, and let them not stand; A health to the hero that doth us command: May each British heart and voice say, without fear, ‘A fig for the French and Sir Hugh Palliser!’
_KEPPEL FOR EVER!_
Smile, smile, Britannia, smile, on Admiral Keppel smile, Thy darling son; With laurels crown his head; go, Fame, his glory spread; His name monsieurs do dread, from him they run.
Goree, th’ Havannah too, where shot in showers flew, Keppel so bold, In the midst of the fray, he to his men did say, ‘We’ll shew them British play and share their gold.’
Tho’ he’s been false-accused, his character abus’d, Still he’s the thing; Keppel these forty years has serv’d in the wars, Fear’d neither wounds nor scars, for George his king.
But Twitcher and his crew (I mean his dupe Sir Hugh), Wicked their scheme! To try Keppel did call, thro’ malice, that was all. Lucifer’s pride must fall, like Admiral Byng.
Bonfires, bells did ring; Keppel was all the ding, Music did play; Windows with candles in, all for to honour him; People aloud did sing, ‘Keppel! huzza!’
May he draw his sword again in defence of George his king And country’s right. On board the _Victory_, again his flag does fly. Monsieurs will feel, by-and-by, if he will fight.
Go, go, thou base Sir Hugh, vice-admiral of the blue, Prythee be still! Ah! what a wicked dog, to splice the very log! Give him, instead of grog, a leaden pill!
_A NEW SONG ON ADMIRAL BARRINGTON._
Come, all you jolly sailors of courage stout and bold, Come, listen to these lines; the truth I will unfold. Jack, ensign, and pennant in the morning we let fly, We engag’d the French fleet the 6th of July.
Our drums they did beat and to quarters we went, And for to engage the French fleet it was our intent; Our guns they being loaded with round and grape shot, We beat three ports into one on board the _Languedoc_.
There was Admiral Barrington, Britannia’s delight, With courage undaunted he boldly did fight; His rigging being shatter’d, and likewise his sails, He still kept cannonading on board the _Prince of Wales_.
We had one floating battery carry’d guns upon three decks And in the time of action she left her f a legs [_sic_]. We never back’d our topsails French cannon to shun, But boldly ran the gantlet with Admiral Barrington.
If Royal George of England will give us the grant For Admiral Barrington to have the command, We would conquer the French fleet were they ever so strong, We’d hoist the British colours on board the Count d’Estaing.
There’s Captain Fitzherbert was valiant in the fight, And in the _Royal Oak_ he took great delight, In the loading their guns and discharging so free; It shew’d that they were loyal to King and country.
Come, my brave boys, this engagement is all o’er, And when that we return, my boys, we’ll dance, sing, and roar; This song it shall be with the old and the young: Long life and success unto Admiral Barrington.
Our sweethearts and wives they are not to be forgot; The balls they now engage with are softer than French shot. When e’er we do return, my boys, we’ll make these culls to run, We’ll make them dread the sailors that fought with Barrington.
Our bowls they are full, and we have plenty for to drink, And that’s the thing which causes me to drop my pen and ink; Whene’er we meet the French dogs we’ll make their jackets smoak, Whilst Captain Fitzherbert commands the _Royal Oak_.
_PAUL JONES._
An American frigate, called the _Richard_ by name, Mounted guns forty-four, out of L’Orient came For to cruise in the Channel of Old England’s fame, With a noble commander: Paul Jones was his name.
We had not long cruised before two sails we spied, A large forty-four and a twenty likewise, With fifty bright shipping well loaded with store, And the convoy stood in for the old Yorkshire shore.
At length the proud Pearson came up alongside With a long speaking trumpet. ‘Whence came you?’ he cried. Come, answer me quickly--I’ve hailed you before-- Or else a broadside into you I will pour.’
Paul Jones he then smiled and to his men did say, ‘Let every man stand to the best of his play.’ We received the broadside from the proud Englishmen, But soon our brave Yankees returned it again.
We fought them four glasses, four glasses so hot, Till 40 bold seamen lay dead on the spot, And 55 more lay bleeding in gore, While the thundering large canons of Paul Jones did roar.
Our gunner, being frightened, to Paul Jones he came. ‘Our ship she makes water and is likewise in flame.’ Paul Jones he made answer in the height of his pride, ‘If we can do no better we’ll sink alongside.’
Oh, now, my brave boys, we have taken a prize, A large forty-four with a twenty likewise, With twenty fine merchantmen laden with store, So we’ll alter our course to the American shore.
_CAPTAIN FARMER._
The muse and the hero together are fir’d, The same noble views have their bosoms inspir’d; As freedom they love, and for glory contend, The muse o’er the hero still mourns as a friend; His name from the jaws of oblivion to save, The muse shall immortalize Farmer the brave.
His ship was the _Quebec_, fatal, glorious name, The source to Britannia of sorrow and fame. We’ve twice to our cost that name ill-omen’d found, But now we’ve no balsam to heal this fresh wound, For then tho’ Wolfe’s loss to our joy gave a check, Whilst we morn’d for the chief we rejoic’d for Quebec.
At daybreak, ere Phœbus had shed his blest light, Three sail he espy’d, and prepar’d for to fight; October the 6th, anno seventy-nine, With a forty-gun ship he in battle did join; At nine in the morning began the fierce fray, Which without intermission held most of the day.
Five hours and upwards the action did last; The shrouds were all torn, and they lost every mast; Tho’ thicker than hail the dread bullets did fly Yet still to his men gallant Farmer did cry, ‘Fight away, my brave boys; I will spend my last breath Ere I’ll yield to the foe: give me conquest or death.’
At length the proud foe was constrain’d to retire; They steer’d to some distance and slackened their fire. The victory, Hibernia, had then been thy son’s, But the sails of the _Quebec_ were fir’d by her guns. Then all was distraction, confusion, despair: The vessel took fire and blew up in the air.
Thus fell gallant Farmer, the generous and brave; The _Rambler_ in vain strove his life for to save. Her long boat she hoist out for to take up the crew, But the sea rose too high, and too hard the wind blew. Seventeen she picked up on the waves that did float; The barbarous enemy fir’d at the boat.
Ye sons of Hibernia, for valour renown’d, The praises of Farmer, your hero, resound; His name bright shall shine. Then a truce to all grief; Vernon, Warren, Tyrrell shall welcome the chief, And the brave British Cornwall with pleasure shall crown An Hibernian whose exit resembled his own.
Taught by his great example let’s danger defy; For the sake of our country let’s conquer or die. May our navy triumphant ride over the main, And check the presumption of Gallia and Spain; And, oh! may some hero rise ere ’tis too late, Chastise insolent Jones, and revenge Farmer’s fate!
_THE BOLD BLADES OF OLD ENGLAND._
Come, rouse up, my lads, let us haste to the main, And load home our chests with the dollars of Spain, For as we have beat them we’ll do so again, _And it’s, oh! the bold blades of Old England_!
They tell us that sixty fine ships of the line Of France and of Spain in the ocean do shine; But let them remember the year fifty-nine; _They were banged by the blades, etc._
Those villains they thought some advantage to take On America’s land, for to lessen her state; But they quickly shall know it was all a mistake, _Convinc’d by the blades, etc._
How proudly they came with a numerous host To take, sink, and burn, and to land on our coast; And when they had done nothing went home for to boast _Afraid of the blades, etc._
Already we have some of their dollars to shew At Liverpool, Guernsey, and London also, And took one of their islands, call’d fam’d Omoa. _Oh! the bold blades, etc._
Brave Rodney and Parker have done the thing well, And altho’ their admirals made such a swell, Will soon be sent home the news for to tell; _They’ve been drub’d by the blades, etc._
Bold Rodney, we hear, is come up with a foe, Took one man-of-war, and five frigates also, With about eighteen transports, a very smart blow. _Oh! the bold blades, etc._
Then come, my true Britons, and fill up the glass To George and his navy; around let it pass, And he that won’t pledge it proclaim him an ass; _And it’s, oh! the bold blades, etc._
_THE ROYAL SAILOR._
The foes of Old England (France, Holland, and Spain), Made bold by indulgence, insulted the main; The flag of defiance together unfurl’d, And at England, Old England, their vengence they hurl’d: When Neptune arose from his watry throne; In a coral [red] suit he most beautifully shone; He call’d for his tritons, and bade them repair To the Court of great George, for young William was there. ‘_He’s royal, he’s noble, he’s chosen by me This isle to protect and reign prince of the sea._’
O’erjoy’d at the message, the youth rear’d his head. ‘I’ll fight like a prince,’ were the words that he said; ‘The cause of my country I’ll boldly espouse; To the sea I’m wedded, and give her my vows. With Rodney, with Digby, with Ross I will go, And die, but I’ll conquer each insolent foe.’ The tritons reported the words that he said, And Spain heard the plaudits by Neptune then paid: ‘_He’s royal, he’s noble, he’s chosen by me Britain’s isle to protect and reign prince of the sea._’
The Dons they have felt the effects of his rage; No more with blood royal they’ll dare to engage; For he stood on the deck with his naked drawn sword, And by the bold Digby he passed the word. Humanity touch’d him, tho’ not with base fear, When one noble ship was blown into the air. His courage gave rapture to each jolly tar, Who look on Prince William their bulwark in war. _He’s royal, he’s noble, he’s chosen to be The guard of this isle and the prince of the sea._
_HOOD’S CONQUEST OVER THE COUNT DE GRASSE._
Come, all you jovial sailors, give ear unto my song; Let joy inspire your hearts while glory leads you on. The Count de Grasse with all his fleet has threatened us full sore That with his great armada he’d scour the British shore, Our ships he’d sink, our islands take all under his command; But the courage of bold Britons has stopt his warlike hand.
The proud and lofty hero in Port Royal harbour lay, And on the eighth of April from thence he sail’d away, And with his floating batteries, in all just thirty-three, A large convoy of transports to bear him company; With troops and ammunition, as plainly does appear, For to besiege Jamaica his course he strait did steer. He thought this great attempt was very bold indeed, But now I will unfold to you how far he did succeed.
For Hood soon had tidings the birds had took their flight That he with so much diligence had watch’d both day and night; Then with the gallant British fleet we sail’d from St. Lucia, Resolving the destruction of the daring enemy. It was on the ninth of April, just at the break of day, We spy’d these lofty Frenchmen at Dominica lay. There being but little wind, and they to windward were, In spite of our best efforts their convoy did get clear.