A Middy's Recollections, 1853-1860. Victor Alexander Montagu
salt junk (beef), or of pork as salt as Mrs. Lot, execrable tea, sugar, and biscuit that was generally full of weevils, or well overrun with rats, or (in the hot climates) a choice retreat for the detestable cockroach. In one ship—I think it was the Nankin frigate—cockroaches swarmed. Sugar or any other sweet matter was their attraction; and at night, when they were on the move, I have seen strings of the creatures an inch and a half long making a route over you in your hammock. Some ships were overrun with them. Rats also were a dreadful nuisance: they invariably nested among the biscuit bags. We mids used to lie awake and watch them coming up at night from the hold on to the cockpit deck; and, well armed with shoes, hair-brushes, and so on, we persecuted them.
Spithead, at the time I joined my ship, afforded an interesting spectacle. Men-of-war of all classes were gradually collecting, and the dockyards were very busy; but we were short of men—so much so that all available coastguard-men were requisitioned to complete our crews, which in those days were for the most part collected from the streets.
The war with Russia which (keen-sighted diplomatists warned our Government) must come, and that soon, necessitated active preparations. The newly-joined men were being trained in great-gun drill, and target practice was always going on.
My ship was a battleship of about 3400 tons, and said to be quite the prettiest of her class. We were afterwards styled the Pretty Royal; which so much pleased the middies that we all bought eyeglasses, and wore them, when not on duty, by way of swagger. We carried 32-pounders on the main and the upper deck, and 56-pounders on the lower deck, throwing hollow shot; with one solid 68-pounder on the forecastle. Our full-steam speed under favourable conditions was nine knots; but this speed under steam was of rare occurrence—eight knots was usual. We had a complement of 850 men and officers.
In the gun-room (or midshipmen’s) mess we numbered about twenty-four, all told. I grieve to say that we had a few very bad specimens of the British officer: bad both professionally and socially. Though discipline was generally very strict on deck and on duty, irregularities went on below that were winked at, and in later days would not have been tolerated. There was a remnant of the bad style of earlier days, without any of the higher qualities of the old naval officer to temper it. One heard now and then of notorious characters that seemed always just to escape retribution; though long before the end of the war three of my messmates, if not more, were “hoisted out” by court-martial or otherwise. Bullying also was common. On one occasion I was so much irritated by a lout of an Irish assistant-surgeon that I lost my poor little temper and gave him the lie. Being overheard by one of the senior mates, I was immediately kicked out of the gun-room and ordered to mess on my chest for three days. The punishment was carried out to the full. The most fiendish case of bullying it ever was my lot to endure was perpetrated by one Berkley. I glory now in presenting his name to the British people. He was one of the senior mates. It was his wont to regale himself with port wine and walnuts of an afternoon. On one occasion (possibly it may have been oftener) he sent for me, and he lashed me to a ring-bolt in the ship’s side, ordering me to say, “Down, proud spirit: up, good spirit, and make me a good boy.” I had to suit the action to the word by moving the hand and arm down and up the body. I had to repeat the formula a hundred times, while he jotted down my penances with a pencil on his slate. I have always considered myself lucky that I did not cross that man’s path in after life. In my last experience with this creature, I got the better of him. The Princess Royal was paying off, and the ship’s company and officers were hulked in one of the old ships in Portsmouth harbour. I think all our middies, except myself and two others, were away. A signal was made from the flagship for a midshipman to copy orders; and, though I was just going home on Admiralty leave, having packed my portmanteau and proceeded to change into mufti, Berkley sent for me to obey the summons for this signal, he knowing perfectly well that I was just about to go on shore. My answer to the message was that I would come up immediately, but that, as I had changed my uniform for mufti, I requested five minutes within which to don proper dress. In less than that time I had carried out my view of the matter by hailing a wherry under the stern port, popping my portmanteau into the boat, and telling the boatman to pull for his life to the Hard, keeping his boat well in a line with the stern of the hulk. Luckily, the tide was in my favour; but, to my horror, when nigh half-way to the Hard, I discovered the jolly-boat pulling after me like the very devil. “Give way, you beggar! Double fare! Only land me at the Hard before this infernal boat can overtake us!” We just did it. The portmanteau was whipped up on the boatman’s shoulders, and thrown into a fly that, luckily, saw the little game going on; and off we galloped to the station. I did him—Mr. Berkley:—that was all I wanted. He was promoted, and had left before I returned from leave; and from that day to this we have never crossed each other’s path.
One of the amusements with which the seniors entertained themselves was slitting the end of your nose open with a penknife. The idea was that you could not properly be a Royal, bearing the name of your ship, without a slight effusion of blood. The end of one’s nose was well squeezed, and thus there was little pain. A ceremony something after the style of blooding one over one’s first fox was gone through.
Every officer was limited in regard to his wine bill: you could not exceed a certain monthly sum. A middy was allowed about 15s.; the seniors, more; but, as many of them were of thirsty habit, some means had to be found to procure more wine or spirits after the bill was stopped, which usually occurred about the middle of the month. There were several methods. As on one occasion I had to suffer severely for the faults of others, I will tell a story.
The youngsters had to draw lots as to who should go and represent to a Naval Instructor fresh from one of the Universities that it was the birthday of some one in the gun-room, that his wine bill was stopped, and that he had no means of procuring any liquor if Mr. Verdant Green were not able to oblige by lending some. The lot fell upon me. I felt I was running fresh risks; but go I must. I soon found my man, and forthwith told my story and made my request. Instead of my being answered as I expected, by a “Yes” or by a “No,” my green friend went straight to the Commander’s cabin, tapped at his door, and in my hearing asked whether this were permissible, or in contravention to naval discipline and custom. The Commander settled the matter by ordering me to the mast-head on the spot and stopping my leave for six weeks. One would have thought the original delinquent would have pitied me on my return from the cross-trees; but I was told that I must have acted in a clumsy manner, and that I was a useless cub. The worst of an escapade such as this is that it gets you into the bad books of the Commanding Officer.
Soon after I had joined the Princess Royal, my uncle made me his A.D.C., and gave me charge of his 12-oared cutter, a boat which he preferred to the usual 6-oared galley. It was, I think, on the first occasion of my taking charge of this boat that I was sent into Portsmouth Harbour to fetch my captain and bring him off to Spithead. On my way to the King’s Stairs, while passing “the Point,” a locality (beset with public-houses) where the immortal Nelson left the English shore for the last time, the coxswain suddenly accosted me. “My sister,” he said, “keeps a pub close by, and it is quite the right thing that you should treat the boat’s crew to a glass of grog all round.” Feeling that I had plenty of spare time, and that it would be mean to refuse this very strong request, I gave permission to beach the boat, and forthwith produced the last of my pocket-money (a ten-shilling bit), in order that the crew might be regaled. They returned one man short. I could not wait to search for him, and I thought it just possible that his Lordship might not discover one oar minus: so I arranged that, on whichever side of the boat the captain took his seat, my vacant thwart should be on the other. All went well until we were nigh our ship; though I must own to many moments of anxiety during the long pull off to Spithead. Alas! He noticed the absence of a man as the men tossed their oars in. I could have died on the spot. Of course, we were all paraded on the quarter-deck. The coxswain made some plausible excuse; but I myself was threatened with immediate expulsion and watch-and-watch for a fortnight—four hours on duty and four hours off duty throughout the day and night. Within a few days, however, my uncle, having found a soft place in his heart, sent for me and let me off. I fancy that, being an old hand, he had seen how the land lay, and had taken pity on my youth, thinking that his coxswain had had more to do with the episode than I. Needless to state, the coxswain’s sister was a Mrs. Harris. She had been designed in order that a bad hat whom the coxswain and the crew detested