Malta—Dreadful accident by the Explosion of a Magazine in the town, on the Bermola side—Nearly get into a scrape about breaking quarantine—Kind answer of the gallant Admiral Sir Sidney Smith to the complaint—Rejoin the Melpomene—Mutiny in Fribourg’s regiment—Cruise in the Adriatic.

On my arrival at Malta I learnt that the ship was on a cruise, and that she had lost, a short time after I was taken, our gallant first lieutenant, Andrew Thompson, who was killed, with most of his boat’s crew, in boarding,—in the middle of the day, with the barge alone,—a French armed settee, with six long nine-pounders, off Leghorn; but the few survivors—Lieutenant Gascoigne, R.M.; Mr. W. Butler, mid; and a noble fellow, a sergeant of marines, named Milligan, with eight seamen, all that remained out of twenty-five men—gallantly hooked on the boat, and carried the vessel, driving some of her crew overboard, and causing the rest to beg for quarter.

At the prize agent’s I found my chest of clothes, which had been left behind to be forwarded to England, it not being expected I should rejoin the ship. This was a great and unexpected comfort. The delight of a nice new coat, linen, &c., after my poor ragged dress was a treat, which, fully to enjoy, a person should be placed in a similar situation.

I was sent on board the Madras (guard-ship) to wait for a passage to join the Melpomene, when, in August, a dreadful accident happened. I was awakened out of sleep about six in the morning by a tremendous noise, and the bursting of shells. I jumped out of bed, and ran upon deck, thinking we were in action, when a shell fell upon the wharf to which the ship was secured, burst, and killed the gunner of the Madras. An immense cloud of black smoke and dust was hovering in the air, and cries, shrieks, and groans were heard in every direction: a magazine in the centre of the town of Bermola, nearly opposite the dockyard, in which many live shells had been placed by the French during the siege in 1800, had exploded. A party of artillerymen had been sent to take out the fuses, and by some unfortunate accident one shell had gone off, for one or two explosions were heard before the magazine blew up. How the event happened of course not a soul employed was left to tell, and, in addition to a sergeant’s party of artillerymen, nearly 300 of the inhabitants were killed or seriously injured; part of two streets were thrown down, and many more houses were severely shaken.

A short time after this shocking event, a transport was directed to sail for Palermo, and a passage thither was ordered for me to look for my ship. Outside of Malta harbour we were boarded by a boat, bringing a lieutenant and some men from a vessel in quarantine to join their ship also at Palermo. The wind, which had been fair, suddenly changed, and the weather appearing unsettled, the master prudently bore up, and returned into harbour. I thought it very hard to be placed in quarantine, because we had taken the above officer and men out from the lazaretto, therefore the moment the ship dropt anchor, without waiting for the pratique boat to come alongside, I got into a shore boat, and landed in the town of Valette.

Fortunately, as soon as I had landed, the captain of the Madras met me, and instantly sent me back to the transport, saying, if the quarantine officer found me out, I should be sent to prison. The next morning the wind came fair, and we put to sea. Just when we had got clear of the harbour—the pratique office having gained intelligence of my visit to the shore—a boat was sent after the ship to take me out, and place me in the lazaretto; but the wind freshening, we left her astern, and proceeded on our voyage to Palermo, where I expected that nothing more would have been thought of the matter.

From thence I went on board the Thunderer (74), for a passage to Naples, where I was taken very ill with a kind of cholera morbus, which in a few hours reduced me very much, but a good constitution enabled me soon to recover from its attack, although it left me very weak for some time.

On our arrival off Naples we found cruising at the entrance of the bay the gallant Admiral Sir Sidney Smith, who sent for me on board the PompÉe (80), and said, “What is this you have been doing? You are a very pretty fellow! This morning a brig came from Malta, bringing a formal complaint against you from the governor for breaking quarantine, and requesting me to send you back there to be tried; but,” added he, in the kindest manner, “never mind, I have answered them, and told them they, not you, were to blame, for had they done their duty you could never have got on shore, and it was entirely owing to their neglect that you transgressed the quarantine laws.” That answer settled the matter, and I never heard anything more of the affair, although, after joining the Melpomene, which I did in the course of a few days, the ship was sent to Malta to refit.

I was quite delighted to get back to my old ship, and be under the command of her dashing gallant young captain, who, had he not been killed afterwards in America, would have now been one of the best officers in the service. Shortly after our arrival at Malta, in September, a most serious mutiny broke out in a foreign regiment in our service, quartered at Fort Recazzoli, called “Fribourg’s,” or the Greek Light Infantry. It was composed of Germans, Swiss, French, Greeks, Istrians, Dalmations, and Albanians. Most of the officers were Germans, and the discipline of the regiment did not suit the ideas of these mercenaries; added to which, some of the Albanians and Dalmatians had been most shamefully cajoled by emissaries, under false promises, into our service. In those countries a kind of clanship prevails, and some of the heads of those clans were told, that if they would enter, with their followers, into this regiment, they would receive the rank of captain. These wild chiefs, thinking it a great thing to be made captain at once in the British service, embarked with their followers, and came to Malta, where, instead of being placed in the situation they expected, they were put into the ranks, and one or two of them made a sergeant or corporal. This, with other causes, created a general disgust, and a secret plan was formed by these wild tribes to rush into the officers’ mess-room, while at dinner, and murder every one of them indiscriminately. Suspecting, however, that their plan had been discovered, they did not wait for dinner time, but about two or three o’clock in the afternoon, rose upon the few officers that were in the fort at the time, killed a captain, the adjutant, and quarter-master, wounded the colonel and major, whose lives were saved by the Germans, and hauling up the drawbridge, demanded terms, which were that the regiment should be disbanded, and themselves sent back to their own country.

In the fort at this time was a gallant young officer of artillery, Lieutenant Fead, with a few of his men, one or two of whom refusing, like good soldiers, to quit their post without orders from their own officer, the mutineers killed them, making Lieutenant Fead prisoner, obliging him to point the guns and mortars towards the town of La Valette.

Fort Recazzoli is a strong isolated fortress on the left hand side of Malta harbour as you come in from the sea, and in which was a large magazine of gunpowder. The mutineers held out several days, and threatened to fire upon the town of La Valette if their terms were not immediately agreed to. One day indeed they did fire a few shells, but Lieutenant Fead purposely gave the mortars so much elevation, that the shells dropped quite clear of the town. Things had remained in this state for two or three days, with all the garrison at Malta and the seamen and marines of the few ships in harbour on the alert, boats rowing guard, the batteries manned, and a cordon of troops drawn round the fort; when, on the afternoon of the second day a grand tiraillade was heard within it, the Germans and Swiss, with the few artillerymen who had taken no part in the mutiny, and had been disarmed by the others, watching an opportunity, made a rush, destroyed the guard at the drawbridge, let it down, and sallied forth out of the fortress, bringing with them one or two wounded officers and forty-five of the principal malcontents; the remainder hauled up the drawbridge and held out for several days, again demanding terms, and threatening to blow up the magazine if they were not complied with.

The mutineers being now reduced to a few, early in the morning, we stormed the place with scaling ladders, when part of the 44th Regiment and some sailors got possession of most of the fort; but the mutineers had not been idle, they had built up a kind of high breast-work of large loose stones before the magazine, within which they retreated, and kept up a brisk fire of musketry—a ball from which grazed my hat and stuck in the wall near me. They used occasionally, from behind this breast-work, to demand a parley and terms, always ending with the threat of blowing up the magazine, with themselves, in which were several hundred barrels of gunpowder. General Valette, who commanded the garrison, very properly refused to listen to any but an unconditional surrender—things having gone too far.

We stationed our men under the bomb proofs, it being the general opinion of the engineer officers that when the magazine did blow up the greatest explosion would be towards the sea, where the wall of the magazine was weakest, and that under the bomb proof the men would be comparatively safe; and as these desperate fellows had declared, that if when St. John’s clock should strike the hour of nine in the evening, their terms, free pardon and safe conduct back to their own country, were not complied with, they would set fire to the train and blow themselves and the fortress up, we awaited the event with much anxiety. A strong suspicion existing that they had undermined the garrison, and had made a passage out for themselves at the back of it, I was sent to row guard to intercept any attempt they might make to escape by water. At about nine, off went the train, and a most awful explosion took place; the whole sea wall was blown to atoms, and the shock like that of an earthquake was felt far and near, some fish in the harbour made a spring out of the water, which showed they also were sensible of the vibration. Three of the 44th Regiment who were posted sentinels were killed by the falling stones, and a few more were hurt. I immediately pulled on shore and had communication with the fort, and then went and made my report to the senior naval officer. These desperate wretches, at first, were considered to have perished, but, about a week afterwards they were brought in, nearly starved to death, having been unable to make their escape from the island. They were immediately tried by a court martial and hanged.

To return to those forty-five mutineers dragged out of the fortress by the sortie. They were also brought before a military tribunal; fifteen of them were condemned to be hanged, and most of the remainder to be shot. The execution was most terribly mismanaged: it presented, indeed, a shocking spectacle. But I will say no more upon the subject, further than to the last moment these poor wretches continued to vent their abuse on the English, and the men sentenced to be hanged endeavoured to keep up the spirits of those that were about to be shot—even when the ropes were round their necks they called to them, saying, “What are you crying for? It is we that ought to bewail our fate of being hanged like dogs instead of being shot like men.”

I recollect seeing a Catholic priest very busy on the scaffold, wishing to persuade the criminals to kiss the crucifix before they were launched into eternity, but they kicked him off, and spat in his face, telling him he was no better than themselves.

In November we sailed on a cruise off Corfu, and from thence up the Adriatic, where we spent a very stormy winter, blockading Venice, anchoring occasionally at Trieste, and under Cape Salvatore, the islands of Lissa, Sansego, and various other places. The N.E. winds in winter blow most furiously from the Istrian and Dalmatian mountains, and, if caught by these winds on the Italian coast, a ship is placed in a most critical situation; a heavy, short sea rises with the wind, and you are obliged to carry a press of canvas to prevent being driven on a lee shore.

A Russian squadron of seven sail of the line, besides frigates and transports, with troops on board, arrived from Naples early in the spring of 1807, and anchored off Trieste, the Emperor of Russia having withdrawn his alliance from us, professing neutrality, in consequence of the great success of the French army under Napoleon in Austria, &c. The Russian admiral, Greig, very politely sent to Captain Pat. Campbell, of the UnitÉ, the senior officer in the Adriatic, to say that he intended to send a ship of the line with the transports to land the troops they had on board at Venice, we being off the port blockading it, in company with the UnitÉ. Captain P. Campbell replied that two British frigates would never suffer one Russian seventy-four, with her convoy, to break the blockade, and therefore requested, if that was the admiral’s intention, he would take his whole force, which would prevent any collision between us.

Admiral Greig very properly did so, and saw his convoy enter safely the port of Venice.

During the nine months we cruised in this sea we took and destroyed a great many of the enemy’s small vessels; but our prize concerns were unfortunately entrusted to agents, who became insolvent, and our hard-earned money was in consequence lost. I shall in the sequel suggest a plan for the management of prize-money, in the event of our again being engaged in war, it having fallen to my lot to lose every penny by the breaking of four agents in different parts of the world, into whose hands we entrusted the management of our prize affairs.

These honest people have an easy way of getting rid of money committed to their charge. A ship brings captured vessels into harbour; on board comes Mr. A., B., C, or D., with a smirking face and soft tongue, making low bows, hoping he may have the honour,—being an accredited agent under a bond for £20,000,—to transact the affairs of H.M. ship! Officers generally being strangers in the port, and having orders frequently to proceed to sea again in forty-eight hours, after completing water and provisions, have no time to look after or make inquiries about stability of prize agents, and therefore trust the concerns to the first that comes. The moment a ship is fitted out she goes to sea on another cruise—probably for three or four months; the prizes in the meanwhile are sold by the agent. Now, what does he generally do with the money? Why! speculates with it on his own account. If the scheme answers, he puts the amount of his speculation into his own pocket—we, whose the money ought to be, never getting any part of it. If it fails, the prize agent breaks, and off he starts, paying perhaps not a shilling in the pound. Oh! but then you have got his bond for £20,000! What matters this amongst a whole fleet, when he runs away with perhaps more than £100,000 of their money!

I am not putting an extreme case—this did happen more than once—and it would astonish the public if the whole system of prize-plundering agents that was carried on last war could be laid open. They would, indeed, wonder men could be so easily led to trust persons with large sums of money without knowing more about them. My reply is, necessity obliges them.

Now, the remedy I propose is this. Let the Government, in the event of another war, take the prize agency into their own hands, and deduct an eighth or a quarter to cover all expenses, and, whenever ships leave a station, let the money be sent to England. Government would have the use of it; the officers and ships’ companies would be sure to receive the remainder; and it would be much better to give up an eighth or a quarter to Government to make sure of the rest than to lose, as has happened in many cases, every sixpence of our hard-earned reward.

But to return to our cruise. One morning watch, during the time we were washing decks, and when the after-skylight gratings were off, a strange sail was seen from the topmast-head. Without thinking of such things as hatchways, back I ran from the fore part of the quarter-deck to hail the maintop-masthead, and to ask the man looking out what she looked like, when, just as I had placed my speaking-trumpet to my mouth, head over heels down the after-hatchway I fell, bang into the gun-room. Fortunately, I came off with only a severe bruise, and the spraining of my right ankle, which laid me up for three weeks.

The vessel proved to be an enemy’s small coaster, called a “trabaculo,” the rig of which is merely two large lug-sails, with a boom at the foot of them, with a jib, and sometimes a stay-sail and top-sail, to be set flying when going before the wind. She was in ballast, from Chiozza, bound to Ancona for a cargo. On searching the prisoners for letters and papers, we found concealed in their waistbands and linings of their clothes seven hundred and sixty-eight gold Venetian zechins, besides some dollars, which we took the liberty of extracting. They belonged to a rich Venetian merchant, and he had sent the money on board, under the charge of the master of the vessel, to purchase her cargo. On our chasing him, seeing no means of escape, he distributed the money amongst the men to sew in their dresses.

When we first captured him, finding the vessel without anything in her, Captain Parker was on the eve of letting her go, when the prying eyes of a young mid made the discovery of the concealed money, which we took from them, and then allowed the vessel, with her crew, to return to her own port, she not being worth the trouble of sending to Malta.

Some prizes in a gale of wind having been driven on shore near Pesaro, on the coast of Italy, a flag of truce came off to offer an exchange of prisoners, to which we gladly acceded. I was sent thither, with two boats, to bring back our seamen and petty officers. The French, seeing us coming, got the men down on the pier, to have them ready. Several officers of that nation, who were standing there, came bowing and scraping to the stairs of the landing-place, making a great number of fine speeches, and offering me refreshments of all kinds, if I would do them the honour to walk up into the town, which I gladly accepted, hoping to rest my boats’ crews and stretch my legs for half-an-hour on shore, after blockading their ports for six months.

Just when I was stepping out of the boat I observed they held a consultation. Afterwards one of the officers came up to me, and said that he was very sorry, but orders had just arrived for them on no account to suffer me to come out of my boat. Now this was utterly false, no one having come near them, for I kept my eye upon them the whole time. “It was very unfortunate—they were quite in despair about it,” holding up their hands, shrugging up their shoulders, and making wry faces all the time; “they wished so much to show me civility—refreshments were already laid out at their lodgings—but what could they do?—they were so sorry—but orders must be obeyed.” So, taking off their cocked hats, they wished me adieu. I returned the salute, thanked them for the trouble they had taken in getting a repast ready for me, which the authorities would not permit me to enjoy; then off we shoved the boats, and, after a long pull, got back to the ship with our exchanged shipmates, much amused with the French offer of refreshments, which it was never intended I should partake of.

We continued in the Adriatic until the end of September, 1807, when we proceeded to Trieste to embark Lord Pembroke and suite, and carry them to England. They had come from Vienna. Amongst his lordship’s suite were Sir William A’Court, the present Lord Heytesbury, and a Mr. Hammond. They were all pleasant, gentlemanly men, and although bred in Courts, where little else than cold-heartedness and deceit are learned, they in a short time won the esteem of us unsophisticated sailors.

After a stormy passage of nearly six weeks, we anchored at Spithead, when I found myself appointed lieutenant of H.M. Ship Swiftsure (74), bearing the flag of my much-esteemed friend and admiral, Sir John Borlase Warren, who had been appointed commander-in-chief on the Halifax station.

After an absence from England of three years, the ship being on the point of sailing, I could only get one day’s sight of home, when I set off to join my new ship at Plymouth, and the end of November sailed for the North American station to relieve Admiral Berkeley, where we remained three years and a half.