As soon as we were put on board, the captain, officers, and passengers crowded round to inquire the news. Bramble, according to pilot custom, had brought off one or two late Plymouth papers (one of which, I recollect, gave the account of the cutting out of the Hermione by Captain Hamilton); but the people on board were eight months behind hand at least as regarded what had passed: they had not even heard of Sir Sidney Smith’s defence of Acre against Bonaparte, or any thing else which had subsequently occurred; so that as soon as Bramble had taken charge, and put the ship’s head the right course (for the wind was fair), there was no end to question and answer.
— Frederick Marryat, Poor Jack
Sir William Sidney Smith brandishing a scimitar at the Siege of Acre, by John Eckstein 1801-1802.
Again the topsails were hoisted and top-gallant sheets home. It was a strong breeze, although the water was smooth, and the Aurora dashed through at the rate of eight miles an hour, with her weather leeches lifting.
— Frederick Marryat, Mr. Midshipman Easy
“The quarter-master during ordinary watches conns the ship, and stands beside the wheel at the conn, unless close-hauled, when his station is at the weather side, where he can see the weather-leeches of the sails,” wrote Admiral William H. Smyth in his Sailor’s Word-Book.
Leeches are the borders or edges of sails, and those on the weather side are facing the wind (the opposite of lee).
The Blackwall Frigate ‘Yorkshire’, British School 19th century.
The sea broke over as we lay in the trough, deluging us with water from the forecastle, aft, to the binnacles; and very often, as the ship descended with a plunge, it was with such force that I really thought she would divide in half with the violence of the shock. Double breechings were rove on the guns, and they were further secured with tackles; and strong cleats nailed behind the trunnions; for we heeled over so much when we lurched, that the guns were wholly supported by the breechings and tackles, and had one of them broken loose, it must have burst right through the lee side of the ship, and she must have foundered.
— Frederick Marryat, Peter Simple
A frigate heeling in an offshore gale, Nicholas Pocock (1740-1821).
In the meantime, it was dark; the cutter flew along the coast; and the Needles’ lights were on the larboard bow. The conversation between Cecilia, Mrs. Lascelles, and her father, was long. When all had been detailed, and the conduct of Pickersgill duly represented, Lord B. acknowledged that, by attacking the smuggler, he had laid himself open to retaliation; that Pickersgill had shewn a great deal of forbearance in every instance; and, after all, had he not gone on board the yacht she might have been lost, with only three seamen on board. He was amused with the smuggling and the fright of his sister; still more, with the gentlemen being sent to Cherbourg; and much consoled that he was not the only one to be laughed at.
— Frederick Marryat, The Three Cutters
Cutter running through the Needles, drawing by Lt. Edward Bamfylde Eagles, circa 1840.
The French fleet used to come out and manoeuvre within range of their batteries; or, if they proceeded further from the shore, they took good care that they had a leading wind to return again into port. We had been in-shore about a week, every day running close in, and counting the French fleet in the harbour, to see that they were all safe, and reporting it to the admiral by signal, when one fine morning, the whole of the French vessels were perceived to hoist their topsails, and in less than an hour they were under weigh, and came out of the harbour.
— Frederick Marryat, Peter Simple
Three French Frigates & a Gun Vessel aided by a Battery on the Shore, close in with Belleisle April 9th 1799 (detail), 1801 print after Nicholas Pocock.
Well, then, you must mind that an old shipmate o’ mine, Ben Leader, had a wife named Poll, a pretty sort of craft in her way, neat in her rigging, swelling bows, taking sort of figure-head, and devilish well-rounded in the counter; altogether, she was a very fancy girl, and all the men were a'ter her.
— Frederick Marryat, Jacob Faithful
Sweet Poll of Plymouth, 1786 stipple engraving after Thomas Stothard.
As there was no time to lose, our hero very soon bade adieu to his paternal roof, as the phrase is, and found his way down to Portsmouth. As Jack had plenty of money, and was very much pleased at finding himself his own master, he was in no hurry to join his ship, and five or six companions not very creditable, whom either Jack had picked up, or had picked up Jack, and who lived upon him, strongly advised him to put it off until the very last moment.
A country dance was now called for, which was more acceptable to all parties, as none of Mr. Apollo Johnson’s pupils were very perfect in their cotillon, and none of the officers, except O'Brien, knew any thing about them. O'Brien’s superior education on this point, added to his lieutenant’s epaulet and handsome person, made him much courted; but he took up with Miss Eurydice after I had left her, and remained with her the whole evening; thereby exciting the jealousy of Mr. Apollo Johnson, who, it appears, was amorous in that direction.
— Frederick Marryat, Peter Simple. 1837 illustration of the Barbados Dignity Ball by Robert W. Buss.
But as the second evening closed in, the sky was loaded with heavy clouds — the scud flew wildly past them — the sea increased to mountains high — and the gale roared through the rigging of the schooner, which was now impelled before it under bare poles.
We were ordered to the dockyard to draw sea-stores. When we arrived there, I was quite astonished at the piles of timber, the ranges of storehouses, and the immense anchors which lay on the wharf. There was such a bustle, everybody appeared to be so busy, that I wanted to look every way at once.
— Frederick Marryat, Peter Simple
Wharf Shed of the Trafalgar Lock; view in a dockyard storehouse, filled with sailors and goods. Block cut wood engraving by Mason Jackson, 1847-1851.
He never permitted anything to be locked or hidden away from his children, who were allowed to indulge their appetites at their own discretion; nor were they ever banished from the apartments which he occupied. Even whilst he was writing, they would pass freely in and out of the room, putting any questions to him that occurred to them, and the worst rebuke they ever encountered was the short, determined order, “Cease your prattle, my child, and leave the room,” an order that was immediately obeyed.
— Florence Marryat on her father Frederick Marryat, in The Life and Letters of Captain Frederick Marryat(1872)
It has been assumed as an axiom that every one in this world is fond of power. During our passage in the track-schuyt I had an evidence to the contrary, for as we glided noiselessly and almost imperceptibly along, a lady told me that she infinitely preferred the three-horse power of the schuyt to the hundred-horse power of the steam-packet. We arrived at Bruges, escaping all the horrors and difficulties of steam navigation.
— Frederick Marryat, Diary on the Continent
‘De trekschuit omstreeks 1850’ (The tow barge about 1850), Dutch tile panel artwork.
When the hands were turned up to muster, the number of killed amounted to nine, and wounded to thirteen. When this was made known, there seemed to be a general smile of congratulation at the number fallen, rather than of their regret for their loss. The vanity of the officers seemed tickled at the disproportionate slaughter in a frigate of our size, as compared to what they had heard the ships of the line had suffered.
— Frederick Marryat, The Naval Officer (Frank Mildmay)
Engagement between His Majesty’s Ship Amelia… and L’ Arethuse French Frigate… off the Isles of Loss, on the Coast of Africa… 7 February 1813, 1817 print.
Halifax is a charming, hospitable place: its name is associated with so many pleasing recollections, that it never fails to extort another glass from the bottle which, having been gagged, was going to pass the night in the cellaret. But only say “Halifax!” and it is like “Open sesame!” — out flies the cork, and down goes a bumper to the “health of all good lasses!”
— Frederick Marryat, The Naval Officer (Frank Mildmay)
View of Halifax from Dartmouth Cove, c. 1828 print
The frigates were now within gunshot of each other, and it was impossible to say which vessel would first attain the desired goal. The foremost guns of the respective ships which had been trained forward were reported to bear upon the enemy, and both commanders were aware that “knocking away a stick” — i.e., the shots striking the masts or yards of her opponent, so as to occasion them to fall — would decide the point.
— Frederick Marryat, The King’s Own
Action at sea: a French frigate completely dismasted, by Robert Dodd, late 18th century to early 19th century.
Survey the empire of India; calculate the millions of acres, the billions with which it is peopled, and then pause while you ask yourself the question—how is it that a company of merchants claim it as their own? By what means did it come into their possession?
— Frederick Marryat, Newton Forster
‘The diamond eaters, horrid monsters!’: 1788 satirical print depicting British colonial administrator Warren Hastings feeding ‘Indian plunder’ to Lord High Chancellor of Great Britain Edward Thurlow, Queen Charlotte, and King George III.
I’ve held off on posting this to Reading Captain Marryat because I wanted to add some commentary on my main blog.
It’s an extraordinary passage from Marryat—part of a long tirade of harsh criticism directed at the East India Company and seemingly, at British colonialism in general. He even opens the chapter with a quote from the poet Thomas Campbell that begins:
Rich in the gems of India’s gaudy zone,
And plunder piled from kingdoms not their own,
Degenerate trade! thy minions could despise
Thy heart-born anguish of a thousand cries
All this and still, the Hero of the book, Mr. Newton Forster himself, is someone who becomes a captain of an East India Company ship. It’s not played as ironic or tragic, or even a good person becoming a cog in an evil machine because of the society that produced him. It’s strictly a triumph for Newton, and a great career for a man of humble origins. He gets the ship, he gets the girl, and Marryat lampshades the whole thing: “Such is the history of Newton Forster, which, like most novels or plays, has been been wound up with marriage.”
There’s a lot going on in Newton Forster (with Marryat’s often snarky intrusions in the narrative being highlights), but it’s also a reminder that there’s a book about Marryat’s works called Puzzled which to Choose: Conflicting Socio-political Views in the Works of Captain Frederick Marryat. Marryat seems to contradict himself often.
There is something fundamentally conservative about the Captain in the way he often points out injustice and inequality, but then backs off with a kind of, “oh well, that’s just the way things are!” *shrug emoji* It’s puzzling and sometimes infuriating.
In celebration of Henry Le Vesconte’s 209th birthday, today on the 14th of June, here is a classic blog post from Franklin scholar Russell Potter, revealing the identity of the book in Lieutenant Le Vesconte’s hand in his 1845 daguerreotype portrait: Captain Marryat’s Code of Signals.
I appreciate that Professor Potter is an English professor first, and he knows Marryat, even bringing up his antihero Frank Mildmay:
Although the book itself is unremarkable, its author, Marryat, brings a rich resonance to the image. Marryat was an acquantance of Dickens and a prodigious novelist, who more or less established the classic narrative arc of the “sea story” in which some likely lad runs away to sea, faces a series of challenges and adventures, and eventually rises to the rank of Captain. The earliest of these, The Naval Officer, or Scenes in the Life and Adventures of Frank Mildmay (1829), was said to be partly autobiographical. Who knows but that some of the younger lads aboard Franklin’s ships might have been inspired by such tales?
On a personal level, this was one of the first times I heard Marryat’s name! I mentally filed him away as The Code of Signals Guy (sounds pretty technical and dry); and only after other nautical writers praised Marryat did I try his novels. (Which obviously made quite an impression on me).
James Fitzjames and Harry Goodsir’s younger brother Robert Goodsir are also Marryat readers associated with the Franklin expedition.
About Graham Gore Fitzjames said that “he plays the flute dreadfully well”
Apparently Fitzjames owned a flute as a teenager but never had much time to actually play it. He took it with him on the HMS Pyramus and HMS St Vincent.
After that we hear no more of the flute.
[Detail from: The Interior of a Midshipman’s birth, 1821 Print, after Captain Frederick Marryat, British Museum]
Fitzjames mentions the flute in a few letters:
HMS Pyramus June 29th 1826
Dearest Uncle
You no doubt expected a letter from me yesterday but I could not get on board till to day — so I did not write — I arrived quite safe at Portsmouth on Tuesday Morning, but when I got here I had to pay 10 Shillings for they said that when I was booked you only paid 10 Shillings. I told them that I paid a sovereign & they kept my luggage till I had paid it — I forgot the ink Powder but got every thing else quite safe — Mr Sterling got me a very nice flute indeed and I have got it quite safe
—–
HMS St Vincent Decr 20th 1830
My Dear Uncle
I am now comfortably on board, and am a little more accquainted with my messmates some of them, indeed all of them, are very nice fellows, and I think I shall be very comfortable. I have a good birth for my desk, and one of the mates has allowed me to keep my flute and several other things in his cabin.
—-
To William Munn [a friend/neighbour from Blackheath]
In the Bosphorus HM Cutter Hind
April 10th 1832
[…] The flute gets on slowly as I have not much place & time to play. You must be quite a professor by this time.
[Detail from: ‘Master B finding things not exactly what he expected’, the midshipman arrives on board ship; study for an illustration to 'The Life of a Midshipman’, 1820 Drawing by Captain Frederick Marryat, British Museum]
Thanks@marryat92 for pointing me to these wonderful illustrations
