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Naval History in the Naval Review

Although the original (and continuing) aim of the Naval Review has been to provide a forum in which professional Naval officers can discuss matters "relevant to the higher aspects of the naval profession", there has always been a place for history. This has sometimes taken the form of an up-to-the-minute eye-witness account of what the ships and men of the fleet were doing (which gives the Naval Review the status of a Journal of Record, and provides us in the 21st century with invaluable and extra-ordinary reports of events in two World Wars which are now history). But there are also serious historical studies of earlier events, which have a present day relevance, and lastly (and this is a rich mine for the digger-up of quirky and unknown aspects of naval life in days gone by) there are the anecdotes and reminiscences of the old sailors, sometimes published in their lifetime, but sometimes discovered among family records by their descendants, and given an airing two or three generations after they were originally written.

What follows here is one of these last. It is an extract from an article in the July 1958 issue, entitled "When I was a Snotty", written by Captain Charles Hutchinson, RN, in 1876, at the age of 87. There are no reference details given, e.g., was it published?; what was its provenance?, but there is no reason to doubt its authenticity, and the author seems clearly to have been in possession of all his faculties when he wrote these "Recollections". He would have been a Volunteer or Midshipman at the time of the incident recorded below, being aged 11-12. He became a Lieutenant in April 1807, and Commander just at the end of the Napoleonic War, in July 1814. He was promoted and retired as a Captain in July 1851, and died in 1882.

The article refers to Captain (later Admiral) Sir Edward Hamilton, who had been knighted for the cutting out of the former British frigate Hermione, whose crew, driven to extremes by the unspeakable Pigot, had mutinied and handed her over to the Spanish in 1797. These events took place in the West Indies, and had nothing to do with the mutinies in the Channel and North Sea Fleets, but the recapture was seen as being a Good Thing, restoring Britain's prestige.

"This most gallant deed of Sir Edward Hamilton made his name so popular among seamen that, though at that time it was difficult to obtain crews for our numerous ships, even with the assistance of the Press-gang, and receiving the sweepings of the jails, volunteers in abundance presented themselves to him; and, finding this, he would accept none but the best men and our crew was composed of thorough-bred seamen, and there was not another ship in the Navy that could say the same. Sir Edward kept very quiet while the ship [ the Trent, 36] was fitting out, lest any severity should induce any of the men to run away again; and indeed, with exception perhaps of some cases of drunkenness, there was no occasion for punishment, for men and officers were as desirous to get the ship ready for sea as Sir Edward himself could have wished, and all were full of the hopes of a successful and brilliant cruise under such a commander. I do not recollect the exact day on which we sailed, but it was probably in early December, 1800. We were to cruise off St. Maloes (sic), on the French coast to watch two French Frigates which lay there, apparently ready for sea. It is usual in the Navy, especially in winter time, to reduce the sail upon the ship before night, to be ready to meet any rough weather which may arise, and one of the most important reductions is taking in a reef in the Topsails, sometimes two reefs, if the weather looks threatening. So accordingly, at sunset, the hands were called to 'reef Topsails', but before the men were sent aloft Sir Edward called them all to the Quarter Deck, and said to them, 'Now, my men, you are all thorough seamen, and able to do anything with promptness and skill. You are to take a reef in the topsails. The Topmen shall get into the rigging ready for the word of command; I will take my watch in hand, and from the moment I say 'Away Aloft' to the moment when the Topsails are hoisted again, and set, I will give you three minutes – mind – three minutes. I know you can do it in that time, and By God! You shall. Now away into the rigging; Sharp'. This was all spoken in a very peremptory tone and manner, which rather astonished the men (and officers too) but Sir Edward had been so quiet in harbour, that Jack thought it did not really mean much, and accordingly the topmen moved into the rigging very deliberately, as well as to say 'We don't believe you'. Sir Edward took no notice of this, apparently, and as soon as the men were placed in the rigging, ready, he looked at his watch, and gave the word of command 'Away Aloft'.

Jack, however, did not move any quicker, hoping, of course, to beat him. It was full ten minutes, or more, before the Topsails were reefed, and set again. Then Sir Edward had the hands called to 'make sail'. He ordered the men into the rigging, and said quietly, 'Away Aloft' and shake the reef out again'. This was very deliberately done and, as soon as the sails were set again and the men had come down, the order was given 'All hands reef Topsails'. As soon as the men were placed in the rigging ready, Sir Edward said to them, 'My Lads, you do not seem to understand me and that I am a man of my word (with great emphasis). Now, if those Topsails are not reefed and set again in Three Minutes, from the time, by my watch, that I say 'Away Aloft' I will punish every man in the Ship – 'Away Aloft'. Jack's heart may have failed him a little bit at Sir Edward's manner, but he was not going to be so easily frightened and, as to punishing every man in the ship that seemed mere bluster; so the Topsails were not reefed and set again any quicker than before. When the men had come down, and all was quiet and seemingly settled, Sir Edward gave the order, 'Turn the hands up to punishment'. The Marines were drawn up in the after part of the Quarter Deck with fixed bayonets, the Officers, with their side-arms on, were all on the Quarter Deck, with Sir Edward, about the capstan, and the crew all ranged on the fore part of the Quarter Deck, and on the gangways. The Sir Edward called the Boatswain (Carroll) and told him 'Give all you Mates half a fathom of inch rope apiece'. 'Mr. So and So (I forget his name) bring up the Ship's Books'. When all was ready (an awful silence reigning) Sir Edward told the Purser to call the men's names. As the men came forward to answer to their names, the Boatswain and his Mates were ordered to take them by one hand and then to thrash them soundly with the ropes they held for the purpose. So every man in the ship was actually punished. Then Sir Edward merely said to the men 'Now my lads, I daresay we shall understand one another better. Pipe the hands down'."

This calls to mind the story told by Geoffrey Lowis, in his book Fabulous Admirals (Putnam, London, 1957), under the heading of "Commissioning":

"The shortest commissioning speech on record goes far back into the last century.

'Sit down', commanded the Captain.'Now get up, you buggers. That's the last bloody sit down you'll get this commission'."

The article "When I was a Snotty" goes on:

"Such unflinching and summary severity, perhaps, was never exercised upon a whole crew before … It was a daring act, and, no doubt, severe in excess; but that, and a uniform and unwavering severity of discipline in continuance had the intended effect, and in a very short time, the whole crew were made the most admirably efficient of any I ever knew, or heard of. No ship could do anything with us; and the perfect way in which the ship was handled was the admiration of all the ships and fleets we sailed with. Sir Edward was, in fact, the most perfect seaman or officer the Navy ever had. There was nothing he could not do, either in manoeuvring the ship or in fitting every part of the rigging, and sails, better than any other man, or officer, in the ship. He spared nobody in the complete fulfillment of every duty, and he did not spare himself. Night or day, he was always on deck if anything at all particular was going on; and it was this perfect skill, and indefatigable perseverance in the performance of every duty which alone enabled him to carry on such a severe system of discipline with safety and effect. If he had not been the thorough seaman and the resolute superior man he was, the crew (and even the officers, probably) would have mutinied. The officers were as much afraid of him as the men. The first Lieutenant, Chamberlain (son of an Admiral Chamberlain), the Master, whose name I forget, and Carroll the Boatswain were all first-rate seamen, and very effectually assisted Sir Edward in his endeavours to make the ship and her crew fully equal to any duty or encounter they might be engaged in. We were stationed off Havre, and afterwards off Cherbourg, in which last port were two 40-gun frigates which we blockaded. We often stood in within long gun shot of the forts, and fired shot at them in defiance, hoping to provoke the frigates to come out to drive us off. But we had no intention of flying from them; on the contrary, Sir Edward fully intended to fight them both, though one of them was much more than our equal. He did not however intend to fight them regularly with his guns, which would have given us no chance, but he hoped so to out-manoeuvre them, as to get a chance of running alongside one of them, and carry her by boarding.

For this purpose, he was constantly training the men for boarding, and in fine, favourable weather, if we fell in with any merchant ship, English or neutral, he would run alongside her, and throw the boarding parties on to her decks, himself always the foremost man, cutlass in hand, and pistols at his belt, to the great terror and astonishment of the poor Merchant ship." (I would classify that as one of the great understatements!) "It was impossible, however, even in the finest weather, without doing some damage to the unfortunate vessel upon which he experimented, and he then sent his carpenter and seamen to repair all. This practice gave the officers and crew great confidence, and they would readily have followed him, I believe, if he had even attempted to board a Line-of-Battle ship."

I find this story to have some interesting contradictions, but also interesting lessons (and making allowances for some overstatement by the author). In the first place, Hamilton was popular because he had displayed conspicuous personal gallantry in the recapture of the Hermione, but he must have been aware of the causes of the mutiny (however much he might have abhorred the mutiny itself): there were plenty of captains who ran a taut and efficient ship without resorting to brutality. The answer (and herein lies the lesson) is that it's all down to leadership, and example. Hamilton clearly intended to turn his ship into an efficient fighting machine, and spared no effort to do so. And it has long been dinned into officers of the armed forces that your men will respond better if they know where they stand, and have a set aim, to which they can relate. So Hamilton 'got away with it'.

The story also illustrates why the Royal Navy achieved what it did (and why the British armed forces still have an enviable reputation). You train, and train, and train ….. (which is why such things as manning 'Green Goddess' fire engines are unpopular: it upsets the programme of training for the primary purpose). Though I must say, I don't think you could get away today with leaping on some unsuspecting Merchant ship peacefully minding its own business as it ploughs its way up-Channel. The consequences (Health & Safety, Insurance, etc., etc.) don't bear thinking of.

What is sad, though, is that if the Dictionary of National Biography is to be believed, Hamilton went too far. Shortly after the events described above, he was court-martialled for having his Gunner (a Warrant Officer) and his Mates flogged for alleged gross disobedience, and he was dismissed the service, but it was suggested that his wounds had affected his judgement, and he was reinstated. From 1806 until 1819, he was captain of the royal yacht Mary, and then the Prince Regent, being advanced inexorably through Rear-Admiral (1821), Vice-Admiral (1837) and Admiral (1846). He was made KCB in 1815 and a Baronet in 1818.

Alastair Wilson