Part 4

George was killed by a ball from the Frenchman’s maintop, but David Condon, his lieutenant, carried on the fight (assisted by that ‘gallant spark,’ Captain Ben Clark of Wapping, ‘in the European of London, a mast ship,’ which carried ten guns), and beat off the assailant. When New England rose against the government of Sir Edmund Andros in April 1689, George had been made a prisoner, but was released by order of the King, though much distrusted by the supporters of the revolution. One reason for publishing the relation was that the base Bostonians, ‘cursed sons of Cham,’ said that the captain had betrayed his convoy (see _Cal. State Papers, Dom. 1690-1_, p. 376; _ib. America and West Indies, 1689-92_, pp. 66, 121, 269; Charnock, _Biographia Navalis_, ii. 98, 308).

In 1691 Admiral Russell was in command of the fleet in the Channel, but though he cruised from May to September, achieved nothing (Burchett, pp. 63-91). A satirical ballad, ironically entitled _England’s Triumph at Sea_, probably by the same author as _Torringtonia_, hints that ‘the cherry-cheeked Russell’ was very careful not to meet with his foes (p. 112). Two regiments of marines had been raised in April 1690, and served in the fleet, and the first allusion ballads make to this branch of service is contained in the following lines:

‘We had sea colonels o’ th’ nature of otter, Which either might serve by land or by water, Though of what they have done we hear no great matter.’

In September 1691 Russell’s fleet put into Plymouth in a violent storm, losing two ships, the Coronation, a second-rate, and the Harwich, a third-rate. This disaster is commemorated in _England’s Great Loss by a Storm of Wind_, which exaggerates, as ballads generally do, and makes him lose nine ships (p. 113).

The failures of 1690 and 1691 enhanced the glory of the victory of La Hogue in 1692. On that battle there are no less than four ballads. One of them, _Admiral Russell scowering the French Fleet_, long kept its popularity with sailors, and is to be found in most eighteenth-century collections of songs. A pamphleteer, writing in 1757 about the action off Toulon on February 11, 1744, says, ‘I myself heard the song about the battle of La Hogue sung by almost every man on board one ship the day of the battle of Toulon with very good effect, till the infamous behaviour of some in the fleet put an end to their song, and changed their praises of the dead into curses of the living, and, upon inquiry, I had reason to believe it was sung in every ship in the fleet with the same effect’ (_Three Letters relating to the Navy, Gibraltar and Port-Mahon_, 1757, p. 18). Rear-Admiral Richard Carter, who was killed at La Hogue, is the subject of an elegy preserved in the British Museum. It shows that he was popular with those who served under him:

‘His virtue was not rugged, like the waves, Nor did he treat his sailors as his slaves: But courteous, easy of access, and free, His looks not tempered with severity.’

There was also published in 1692 a _Congratulatory Ode to Admiral Russell and the other Sea-Commanders for their late Glorious Victory_. It refers in the last verse to the rumours spread against the loyalty of the admirals:

‘Go on, true sons of Honour, still advance The English glory by depressing France: Go on to prove, how much a royal trust Works upon spirits that are brave and just: This our great mistress knew, whose piercing eyes, Unprejudiced by lying calumnies, Could look through every faithful breast, And saw the loyal zeal they afterwards exprest.’

The year after La Hogue was marked by the capture of a large part of the Turkey fleet which Sir George Rooke was convoying. On this event the naval muse is silent. On May 10, 1694, Captain Pickard, in command of two third-rates, the Monmouth and the Resolution, and of the Roebuck fireship, fell in off the French coast with a fleet of fifty-two merchantmen bound for Dunkirk, and destroyed thirty-five (Luttrell, _Diary_, iii. 312; Burchett, p. 214). This is the subject of a ballad entitled _The Valiant Seaman’s Courage_ (p. 125) More interesting is _England’s Glory in the behaviour of brave Killeygrove_, which relates the capture of two French ships, the Content, of sixty guns, and the Trident, of fifty-two, off Pantelaria, by a squadron of six ships, under the command of Captain James Killigrew (p. 126). The action took place about January 27, 1695, and Killigrew lost his life early in the engagement (Burchett, p. 266; Charnock, _Biographia Navalis_, ii. 327).

From July 1694 to the autumn of 1695, Admiral Russell, in command of a combined Dutch and English fleet, dominated the Mediterranean and checked the progress of the French arms in Spain. The significance of his operations is brought out in Mr. Julian Corbett’s _England in the Mediterranean_ (ii. 149-184), and the ballad called _The Frighted French, or Russell scouring the Seas_, represents the feeling which Tourville’s disinclination to come out of Toulon and risk an engagement produced in England (p. 128, _post_). ‘The honour of commanding the sea and of shutting the French within their ports,’ says Burnet, ‘gave a great reputation to our affairs.’ The ballad, written early in 1695, refers also to the intended operations on the coast of France. It threatens the French:

‘Now the spring’s a-coming, our English will be burning Your towns that be builded near the sea.’

‘We had another fleet in our own Channel,’ continues Burnet, ‘that was ordered to bombard the French coast; they did some execution upon St. Malos, and destroyed Grandville that lay not far from it; they also attempted Dunkirk, but failed in the execution; some bombs were thrown into Calais, but without any great effect; so that the French did not suffer so much by the bombardment as was expected: the country indeed was much alarmed by it; they had many troops dispersed all along their coast; so that it put their affairs in great disorder and we were everywhere masters at sea’ (_Own Times_, iv. 277, ed. 1836).

On the other hand, while the French fleet was confined to its ports, English commerce was poorly protected, and it suffered greatly during this period both from privateers and pirates. The pirate now begins to make a figure in ballad literature. The first quarter of the seventeenth century had been marked by the development of the Barbary corsairs, and its last decade was characterised by the growth of a new form of piracy. It is true the buccaneers whose exploits reached their height when Morgan captured Panama in 1668, were little better than pirates (though some of them had commissions of a sort from the Governor of Jamaica), but they confined their activity to the Spanish Main and the South Sea. The new pirates, however, frequented the eastern even more than the western seas, and avowedly preyed on the commerce of all powers. One of the most famous of these was Captain Avery, upon whom in 1720 Defoe published a pamphlet entitled _The King of Pirates; being an account of the famous enterprises of Captain Avery, the mock king of Madagascar_. In 1713, under the name of Arviragus, he was made the hero of a play called _The Successful Pirate_. Earlier still there was published the _Life and Adventures of Captain John Avery now in Madagascar_, 1709. The ballad gives the pirate’s name as Henry Every, but Avery is the commoner form. In May 1694 an English merchant ship, the Charles the Second, commanded by Captain Gibson, was lying near Corunna. She was a stout vessel and carried forty guns. Avery persuaded the crew to mutiny, set the captain on shore, baptised the ship the Fancy, and sailed for the East Indies. Amongst other prizes he captured on September 28, 1695, a ship called the Gunsway, belonging to the Great Mogul. This led to reprisals, and the seizure of the factories of the English in India. On the application of the East India Company a proclamation was issued on July 18, 1696, declaring Avery and his crew pirates, and offering a reward for their apprehension. Five of the crew were seized on their return to England, tried at the Old Bailey, October 29-November 6, 1696, and duly hanged. Others were arrested later. The commencement of Avery’s career is commemorated in _A copy of verses composed by Captain Henry Avery, lately gone to Sea to seek his fortune_, and the fate of his followers in _Villany Rewarded; or the Pirates’ last Farewell_ (pp. 131, 133).

Avery’s success fired others to imitate him. Captain William Kidd sailed from Plymouth in May 1696 in command of a privateer called the Adventure galley, equipped by private subscription, but with a commission under the Great Seal to seize pirates. Kidd, however, turned pirate himself, was arrested at Boston in July 1699, transmitted to England for trial, and hanged at Execution Dock on May 23, 1701. _Captain Kidd’s Farewell to the Seas_ was a popular song and set to a popular tune. The whole ballad is only to be found in Lord Crawford’s collection, and to him the Society is indebted for permission to reprint it in this volume (p. 134).

During the last ten years of the seventeenth century pirates made the eastern seas and the coast of Africa as unsafe as the buccaneers had made the western. The ballad entitled _The Caesar’s Victory_ tells how an Indiaman successfully beat off five such adversaries (p. 129). The attack took place near Cape Verd Islands on October 31, 1686. A full account is given in Mayo’s _Medals and Decorations of the British Army and Navy_, i. 61-6.

In the West Indies European pirates continued to be a danger much longer than in the East, and after the peace of Utrecht there followed a great recrudescence of piracy, which lasted for ten years or more. The exploits of these pirates are recorded, with a large mixture of fiction, in Charles Johnson’s _General History of the Pirates_, published in 1724. On September 5, 1717, George I. issued a general proclamation for the suppressing of pirates, offering a pardon to all who surrendered before September 5, 1718 (Johnson, p. 33). One of the most notorious, Edward Teach, alias Blackbeard, was killed by Lieutenant Robert Maynard of the Pearl, in an action in James River in Virginia on November 22, 1718. A ballad called _The Downfall of Piracy_ celebrated Maynard’s exploit, and forms a fitting close to the series illustrating this portion of our naval annals (p. 166).

To return to the reign of William III. During the later years of the war with France the development of privateering was more dangerous to English trade than the growth of piracy. From the very beginning of the war English commerce had suffered greatly. Nearly every year there were loud complaints against the management of the navy, and parliamentary debates ‘on the miscarriages at sea.’ ‘By an odd reverse of things,’ writes Burnet, speaking of the year 1692, ‘as we made no considerable losses when the French were masters of our seas two years before, so now when we triumphed in that element, our merchants suffered the most.’ The same thing happened in 1695 (Burnet, _Own Times_, iv. 169, 268). Much was attributed to the mismanagement of the admiralty, and as much to the incapacity of some of the commanders. The old controversy as to the relative merits of ‘tarpaulins’ and gentlemen captains revived once more. That question is the main subject discussed in the tract called _A Rough Draught of a New Model at Sea_, written by Lord Halifax, probably about 1694 (Foxcroft, _Life of Halifax_, ii. 454). It is also the subject of _A Satire on the Sea Officers_, apparently written about the end of 1690, from its references to the battle of Beachy Head (p. 137). The author’s conclusion is that tarpaulins should rule at sea. He refers also to the desire of captains to line their pockets by carrying plate for merchants instead of fighting, and he might also have mentioned the habit of exacting money from merchants for convoys, an act for which in 1689 the House of Commons committed Captain Churchill to the Tower.

As the war went on there were loud complaints of corruption in the victualling and shipbuilding departments, and the grievances of the seamen were set forth in pamphlets by Robert Crosfield, William Hodges, George St. Lo and other writers. Hodges published in 1695 _Great Britain’s Groans: or an account of the oppression, ruin, and destruction of the loyal Seamen of England, in the fatal loss of their pay, health, and lives, and dreadful ruin of their families_. One grievance was impressment, a greater that men, once pressed, were kept at sea continuously, and not allowed any interval of liberty between their cruises. But their greatest grievances related to their pay: their wages were too long delayed; they were transferred from ship to ship without being paid; they were obliged to sell the certificates for their wages at half-price to ticket-buyers, and so on. Besides this, they were badly fed and harshly treated. In the good old days, said a pamphleteer, ‘they were not poisoned by bad provisions, pease bread, and stinking beef and pork.’ Moreover, ‘such men as General Blake, the Earl of Sandwich, Dean, Lawson, Bourne, Minns, etc. were familiar with their sailors, and instead of calling them damned dogs or sons of whores, called them brethren’ (_Remarks upon the Navy. In a Letter from a Sailor to a Member of the House of Commons_, 1700, part ii. p. 14). These grievances found expression in a ballad called _The Sea Martyrs, or the Seamen’s Sad Lamentation of their faithful service, bad pay, and cruel usage_, which the vigilant Pepys preserved, but forgot to date (see p. 140). The sailors punished were evidently regarded as popular heroes, and the ballad is a parallel to those written later on the mutiny of 1797.

A grievance still more often mentioned was that the food was defective both in quality and quantity. Balthorpe’s verse narrative of his cruise in the Mediterranean in 1669-1671 is full of complaints. Within a month after leaving England the crew of the St. David were put upon short allowance.

‘What meat before the King for four Allowed, now six men it devour; A dollar to each man is due, Each twenty-eight days ’tis true: When we can get it we drink wine.’

The wine which the sailors could cheaply procure in the Mediterranean ports compensated for the scantiness of the food:

‘A seaman when he gets ashore In one day’s time he spendeth more Than three months short allowance money. ... Their beef and pork is very scant, I’me sure of weight one half it want; A kind of horse beans they do get for pease, No nourishment at all there is in these; Instead of English cheese or butter A little oyl we get, God wot, far worser. A little rice we get instead of fish Which unto you is known, but a poor dish: Except good sauce to put it in you had, For with good sauce a deal-board is not bad.’

On the coast of Portugal and in the Mediterranean a mixture of wine and water was served out instead of beer. It was commonly spoken of as ‘beverage.’

‘Our drink it is but vinegar and water, Four shilling beer in England’s ten times better-- So that when saylors gets good wine They think themselves in heaven for the time: It hunger, cold, all maladies expels, With cares of the world we trouble not ourselves.’

Balthorpe drew up a verse petition to Sir John Harman on September 4, 1670, denouncing the malpractices of the purser and the victuallers, which is dated ‘written on Ban Yan Saturday, being Kettle Holyday.’ As usual, the complaint made was not against the regulations, but against the officials:

‘Purser, steward, mate, all three I wish them hanged upon a tree: Except that we have scoffe for dinner, It were no harm as I’m a sinner. They say they give us what the king allows, They think they speak to fools that nothing knows; But they’re mistaken in the matter quite, Were we their judge, they’d hang outright.’

No petition or promise of redress produced more than a temporary amendment. Resignation and an occasional drinking bout was the only course.

‘I know the King far better doth allow, But how to compass it we do not know, For mutineers we will be never If that we keep but life and soul together.’

The same complaint recurs in the eighteenth century, and is set forth at length in the _True Character of the Purser of a Ship_ (p. 233).

Yet the sailor of the seventeenth century, badly fed, badly paid and badly treated, was a cheerful person and pleased with small things. Whitelocke, in his relation of his embassy to Sweden in 1653, describes his life on board ship. The ambassador was affable, and gained the love of all the ship’s company. He ‘got into the favour of the officers and mariners by his kindness and familiarity, by being much on the decks and drolling with them and discoursing, especially by affording them now and then a douse in the neck or a kick in jest, seeing them play, and then giving them some of his own tobacco, wine, and strong waters, as there was occasion, which demeanours please those kind of people’ (_Journal_, i. 135). As he amused them, so they in return amused him. On his return, when he was wind-bound off the mouth of the Elbe, ‘the mariners, in their usual way of sporting, endeavoured to make him some pastime to divert the tediousness of his stay and of the bad weather’ (_Journal_, ii. 389).

Of what nature the pastime was we can infer from a few notices. Pepys mentions in the journal of his voyage to Tangiers, under August 27, 1683; ‘Till midnight on the quarter deck, seeing the seamen dance to the harp and sing’ (_Correspondence_, i. 343). And again on September 3: ‘This evening much mirth among the seamen dancing, the sea running high’ (_ib._ i. 346). There was music of some kind on board most men-of-war. In the Bristol, during Teonge’s voyage to the Mediterranean in 1675, the only instruments mentioned are trumpets. When the ship left the Downs ‘our trumpets sound “Maids, where are your hearts?”’ and again as a compliment to the English consul at Scanderoon the trumpets played the same tune. In describing the celebration of Christmas Day music is mentioned again. ‘At four in the morning our trumpeters all doe flatt their trumpetts, and begin at our Captain’s cabin, and thence to all the officers’ and gentlemen’s cabins; playing a levite at each cabine doore, and bidding good morrow wishing a Merry Christmas. After they goe to their station, viz. on the poope, and sound three levitts in honour of the morning’ (_Diary of Henry Teonge_, 1825, pp. 12, 91, 117). Balthorpe’s ship, the St. David, only had a fiddler. On Christmas Day,

‘Our Fidler then did play and sing At cabin door, made steerage ring, With cheerful voice bid them good morrow. I think that he did verses borrow From some famed poet, for he’d sing Brave merry songs made all to ring.’

Before the voyage began, as the ship lay in Portsmouth Road,

‘Our Fidler did in triumph fetch His fiddle from aboard a ketch Called the _Portsmouth_, and did play Oft times to pass the time away. Sometimes to pass sad cares away On Forecastle we dance the Hay; Sometimes dance nothing, only hop about-- It for good dancing passes ’mongst the rout; Yet, on my word, I have seen sailors More nimble dance than any taylors.’ (_The Straights Voyage._)

Dr. John Covel gives a still more detailed account of the diversions of the sailors. ‘If the weather be fair and permit it we seldome fail of some merry fellows in every ship’s crew who will entertain us with several diversions, as divers sorts of odde sports and gambols; sometimes with their homely drolls and farses, which in their corrupt language they name interlutes, sometimes they dance about the mainmast instead of a maypole, and they have variety of forecastle songs, ridiculous enough’ (September 1670. _Diary of Dr. John Covel_, p. 104, Hakluyt Society, 1893).

A play written in 1681 represents a captain on shore who makes a companion sing one of these songs. Captain Porpuss is described as ‘a blunt tarpaulin captain.’ When a song is proposed in the drawing-room where he happens to be, he demands a song with some sense in it--not a whining thing about Phillis or Chloris--such a song as he used to hear in the happy days when he was Captain of the Success.

‘Well, she was riding at Sole Bay; ’twas just before the fight (wherein I did such notable service); I had then a lieutenant aboard--a little dapper fellow, but as stout as Hercules; and when we met a-nights in the great cabin, over a jolly bowl of punch, the rogue would sing us the best sea-songs, and so roar ’em out! I think I’ve a fellow can remember one of them. Sing, Sirrah!

_Song._

Blow, Boreas, blow, and let thy surly winds Make the billows foam and roar! Thou canst no terror breed in valiant minds; But, spite of thee, we’ll live and find the shore. Then cheer, my hearts, and be not awed, But keep the gun-room clear; Tho’ hell’s broke loose, and the devils roar abroad Whilst we have sea-room here, boys, never fear.

There now, there’s life, there’s soul, there’s sense. As I’m a living man, gentlemen, the rogue has foxed me three times, one after another, only by singing this song.’

(D’Urfey, _Sir Barnaby Whigg_, 1681, Act i. scene i. See also _Pills to Purge Melancholy_, vol. i. ed. 1719, p. 96.)

This song, which was written by D’Urfey himself, was set to music by Purcell, and may be found in his _Orpheus Britannicus_. The same collection also contains Purcell’s song of _Britons, strike home_, from the opera of _Bonduca_, 1695, which is founded on Fletcher’s play of the same name. It was an adjuration to the ancient Britons to avenge the wrongs which their country and Queen had suffered from the Romans, but seems to have been adopted in the navy as a suitable battle-song. An eighteenth-century pamphlet, describing an action between an English privateer and a French ship, relates the following incident:--‘The master-at-arms had one of his arms and part of his body torn away: in this bloody condition he was carried down to the surgeon, who saying it was impossible to save his life, and the poor man finding himself dying, bravely in his last moments sung the song of “Britons, strike home,” and expired with the words in his mouth’ (_A faithful Narrative of the cruel Sufferings of Captain Death and his crew_, by Samuel Stoakes, 1757 [?], p. 6).