The Memoirs of Admiral Lord Beresford

Admiral of the Blue Phipps Hornby, C.B., was promoted acting-lieutenant from the Victory, flagship of Lord Nelson, to the Excellent, 74. As captain of the Volage, 22, he received a gold medal from the Admiralty for gallant conduct in the action off Lissa of March, 1811, when a British squadron of 156 guns and 859 men defeated after six hours' action a Franco-Venetian force of 284 guns and 2655 men.

Such is the tale of the admirals of the Red, White and Blue in the year 1858-9. Several of them had actually served in Nelson's ships; the most of them had served under Nelson's command, when Lord Charles Beresford joined the Navy.

In the same year, the number of officers receiving pensions for wounds on service was 104.

Admirals............... 2

Vice-admirals............ 10

Rear-admirals............ 4

Captains............... 27

Commanders............ 22

Lieutenants.............. 24

Masters.................. 5

Surgeons............... 2

Mates.................. 2

Second masters............ 1

Paymasters............... 5

—

104

===

The total number of men in the Royal Navy in 1858-9 was 53,700: 38,700 seamen, 15,000 Marines. In 1912-13, the total number was 137,500: 118,700 seamen, 15,800 Marines. In 1810, the number of seamen and Marines was 145,000: 113,600 seamen, 31,400 Marines.

CHAPTER IV

THE SHIP OF UNHAPPY MEMORY

I did not like the Defence. I thought her a dreadful ship. After the immaculate decks, the glittering perfection, the spirit and fire and pride of the Marlborough, the "flagship of the world," I was condemned to a slovenly, unhandy, tin kettle which could not sail without steam; which had not even any royal-masts; and which took minutes instead of seconds to cross topgallant yards, a disgusting spectacle to a midshipman of the Marlborough. Instead of the splendid sun and blue waters of the Mediterranean, there were the cold skies and the dirty seas of the Channel. I wrote to my father asking him to remove me from the Navy.

The Defence was one of the iron-built, or iron-cased, armoured, heavily rigged, steam-driven, broadside-fire vessels launched from 1860 to 1866. They represented the transition from the Old Navy to the New, inasmuch as they retained large sailing powers and broadside fire, combining with these traditional elements, iron construction and steam propulsion. They were the Warrior, Black Prince, Defence, Resistance, Hector, Valiant, Achilles, Minotaur, Agincourt, and Northumberland. The Defence, launched in 1861, was (in modern terms) of 6270 tons displacement, 2540 h.p., 11.6 knots speed, carried 22 guns, and had a complement of 450 men. She was commanded by Captain Augustus Phillimore, and was one of the Channel Squadron, which, in the year 1863, was commanded by Rear-Admiral Robert Smart, K.H.

CHANNEL SQUADRON

(NAVY LIST, 1863, DESCRIPTION)

Rate H.P. Name Guns Tons Com. Officer Complement

2nd S. 800 Revenge (Flag) 73 3322 Capt. Charles 800

    Fellowes

Iron-cased

ship S. 1250 Warrior 70 6109 Capt. Hon. A. 704

    A. Cochrane,
    C.B.

" S. 1250 Black Prince 40 6109 Capt. J. F. A. 704

    Wainwright

" S. 600 Defence 16 372 °Capt. Augustus 457

    Phillimore

" S. 600 Resistance 16 371 °Capt. W. C. 457

    Chamberlain

Gunboat S. 60 Trinculo 2 – Tender to 24

    Revenge

The Channel Squadron at that time was employed in cruising round the coasts of the British Isles, in order to familiarise people on shore with the Fleet. In later life it fell to me, as commander-in-chief, to conduct similar cruises, of whose object I thoroughly approve.

The Warrior and Black Prince, in particular, were stately and noble vessels whose beauty was a delight to behold. Their great spread of sail, their long hulls and yacht bows, the vast expanse of flush wooden decks, their solidity and grace, set them among the finest ships ever built.

I was somewhat consoled in the Defence by being placed in charge of the cutter; in which I succeeded, by a small feat of seamanship, in earning the rare commendation of the first lieutenant. I was about to sail off to the Fleet from Devonport, when I discovered that the yard of the dipping lug was sprung. This was serious, as it was blowing fairly hard. Fortunately, I had one of those knives so dear to boyhood, containing a small saw and other implements; and with this weapon I shaped a batten and fitted it to the yard, woolded it with spun-yarn and wedged it tight. I did not expect it to hold; but, double-reefing the sail, I put off. All the way to the ship I had an eye on the yard, and it held. Of course I was late on board; and the first lieutenant declined to believe my explanation of the delay until he had had the yard hoisted on deck. Then he was kind enough to say, "Well, my boy, if you can do a thing like that, there's hope for you yet." Every little ray of hope is worth having.

But by reason of my love for the cutter, I fell into trouble. In the dockyard at Devonport, there stood a mast newly fitted with beautiful new white signal halliards, the very thing for the cutter. I should explain that, as we were kept very short of stores, stealing in the Service from the Service for the Service, used to be a virtue. There was once an admiral who stole a whole ship's propeller in order to melt the brass from it; and it was another admiral who boasted to me of his brother officer's achievement. Of course, no one ever steals anything nowadays; nothing is ever missing out of store; and no midshipman would dream of attempting to convey signal halliards from the dockyard into his boat.

But I did. I brought an end of the halliard into an adjacent shed, concealed in which I revolved swiftly upon my axis, winding the rope about me. Then I put on an overcoat, borrowed for the purpose. But my figure presented an appearance so unnaturally rotund that a policeman experienced in diagnosing these sudden metamorphoses, compelled me to divest and to revolve, unwinding, in the public eye. He also reported me for stealing Government stores. "Zeal, all zeal, Mr. Easy!"

It was during my time in the Defence that I was so fortunate as to be enabled to save two lives. On one occasion, the ship was lying in the Mersey, and visitors were on board. A party of these was leaving the ship, when their boat was slewed round by the strong tide, and one of them, a big, heavy man, fell into the water. I dived after him. Luckily there was a boat-keeper in the galley secured astern of the ship. He held out a boat-hook, which I caught with one hand, holding up my man with the other.

I received the gold medal of the Liverpool Shipwreck Humane Society, and the bronze medal of the Royal Humane Society. The name of the man who fell overboard was Richardson. More than forty years afterwards, the son of Mr. Richardson sent me a kind letter, enclosing a photograph of his father, who had died in 1882, nineteen years after his rescue.

"My mother," wrote Mr. J. Richardson, "was in very great terror, as my father could not swim a stroke. He was a very fine man, and this made your task you so quickly undertook not any the easier… The clothes he wore on that memorable occasion were, after their thorough wetting, too small for him to wear again, so they were cut down for my elder brothers, and were called by them their 'Channel Fleet' clothes, and jolly proud they were to wear them too."

The boys' sentiment is pleasing, whether it arose from the exciting fact that Mr. Richardson had fallen overboard in them – a thing which might happen to any gentleman – or from his having in them been picked out by an officer (however junior) of the Channel Fleet.

The second occasion when I was successful in saving a man from drowning was in Plymouth Sound. A string of boats from the Fleet carrying liberty men was pulling ashore, when a shore-boat crossed their bows and was run down by the leading boat. I jumped in and held up one of the passengers; and was again awarded the bronze medal of the Royal Humane Society.

In the Defence, as in my other ships, my Service transgressions were few and venial, as in the case of the signal halliards. My troubles arose from my intervals of relaxation on shore. It is now so long ago that perhaps I may without imprudence relate a sad episode in which I fell under the condemnation of the law, with all that attendant publicity which – as one journalist rather unctuously remarked at the time – is so often worse than the penalty.